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ssahotchnerr · 10 months

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okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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mead-iocre · 4 months

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Brown Eyes | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Brown Eyes.

You and Jessie have been dating for a little over a year now. When you transferred to Chelsea you were quickly charmed by the shy Canadian, who on one of your earlier training sessions, welcomed you to the team with a ball to your face.

Hearing “Heads up!!” should’ve given you more than enough warning, but you were so focused on your own drills that you did not think that the warning was directed at you, nor were you expecting the sheer force of the ball hitting you right on the side of your head.

As soon as the ball made impact you came barrelling down to ground, luckily just about managing to roll yourself over to your side to land safely without injuring yourself any further.

“Fuck! I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

You hear the voice coming closer and the sound of their cleats pushing into the grass before you feel them drop down to crouch beside you. You wince as a warm hand lands on the arm currently nursing the side of your head. Your eyes squint as the throbbing continues, trying to take steady breaths to alleviate the dizziness that’s starting to take over your head. A dull ache settled behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus. The training ground around you felt slightly off-kilter, as if gravity had momentarily lost its grip. You attempted to push yourself up, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that forced you to slump back down.

“The medics are coming, don’t move” You squeeze your eyes closed a few times in pain. The dull throbbing in your head making it hard for you to identify who is talking to you, but the accent makes it pretty distinguishable.

“Jessie?” The Canadian with the freckles and the pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah. It was me. Sorry about that y/n” Said brown eyes meet yours, concern and guilt swimming in them. However, there’s more to her eyes– something so alluring and captivating about hers. Amber with the smallest hits of green under certain lights, but under others her eyes are like expressive palettes of cocoa, a special treat for those lucky enough to gaze into them.

Warm, tender and familiar.

You avert your eyes away from hers quickly when you notice you were staring a little too long, the headache still a dull drum, nagging and incessant. It would be weird to memorise the exact Pantone shade of one of your newest teammate’s eyes so you instead focus on the rest of her. The Chelsea midfielder’s cheeks are flushed red, as she struggles slightly to catch her breath, clearly having ran the entire length of the pitch to get to you.

“Sorry I–“

“s’alright. Just a slight knock” You grin at her— or at least you hope you are grinning and not looking like you were about to pass out at any minute now.

“a slight knock, eh?” She’s cute. Very cute. And very Canadian

Before you had a chance to quip back, you were surrounded by the medics. They assess you, going through all the steps to make sure there were no signs of anything serious. They poke and prob at you before concluding that the only thing you’ll suffer from is a sore bump on the side of your head and a lingering headache.

The entire time Jessie was stood by you, refusing to leave even when the medics and the coaching staff assured her that you were in good hands. She insisted that she stay with you.

And she did.

After that incident, you and Jessie were practically inseparable. The quiet, reserved brown eyed girl that you had first met was now the girl that you would sit next to on the bus, partner up with during drills, and have front row seats to her entertaining dry sense of humour.

A few months later, Jessie finally found the courage to ask you out on a date— and of course you had agreed. On your first date, Jessie took you to a farmers market where there were stalls and stalls of seasonal foodstuffs from artisan and local producers. You had the most perfect day with her, stopping at almost every stall to taste the samples that vendors leave out. You and Jessie barely let go of each other’s hands the entire day, much preferring to walk side by side and hadn’t in hand. If you weren’t holding hands, Jessie’s hand was a comforting touch on your lower back or around your waist.

Occasionally, you would take your phone out from your bag to snap a picture, wanting to document all the cool foods and the pretty flower stalls. You knew Jessie wasn’t too fond of the camera; however, it seemed like every time she noticed your phone in your hand, she would smile at you, even striking a pose or two at times, clearly showing that she didn’t mind you taking pictures of her.

“Cute” You mumble, mostly to yourself, after you snap a photo of Jessie drinking her iced coffee.

“Did you say something, baby?” The brunette steps closer to you, personal space be damned, and wraps an arm around your waist.

You grin down at her as you click the lock button on your phone, sliding it back into your bag. You take a moment to focus on the girl in front of you, appreciating her warm brown eyes, her pretty freckles, her rosy cheeks, and the little flyaway hairs that would not stay down no matter how many times she fix her hair.

You bring a hand up to cup her cheek, turning it away from you slightly, before you whisper “I said you’re cute” against the soft skin, pecking multiple kisses before planting your lips against her cheek for one more big kiss.

“Gimme one here” Jessie turns her head towards you, her eyes closed and a small pout already on her lips.

You bite your lip at how adorable she looks, so different from the aloof girl you met months ago. You must’ve taken longer than she wanted because she opens her eyes and playfully squints up at you. “you gonna kiss me or what?”

You gently squish her cheeks together with one hand, her lips forming a cute little pout. “how ‘bout a bit of patience, cheeky girl” You press a wet kiss right on her still-puckered lips, moving your hand from her cheeks to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

If you had to list one of your favourite pastimes it was making out with your girlfriend. For someone so shy at first, Jessie wasn’t afraid of PDA— anytime, anywhere. She is always the one initiating affection, not caring about who may be watching. Jessie always had an arm over your shoulder, a hand placed on your lower back, or a grip on your waist.

Pulling away slowly, to savour the kiss, you open your eyes to enchanting brown gazing up into yours. A cascade of warmth, like autumn's embrace, like the coffee she solemnly drinks, like the muted shade of her hair against the morning light.

It’s comfort, it’s love, and it’s Jessie.

You often wonder how it would be like to see the world through her eyes, but if you were to ask the Canadian she would say you could see a glimpse of her entire world reflected if you simply looked into her eyes— You.

currently obsessed with jessie fleming and as a result: this.

stay warm, my loves

--- butter

#jessie fleming #woso #woso fanfics #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #jessie fleming x reader

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yeeterthek33per · 9 months

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Mic'd Up (Photo Day Edition) (Auswnt x Reader)

A/n requoosted

*The camera pans to you jogging around the producers, testing out the compact harness they had under your training jersey.

-----------------------

"Aw man, do I have to wear this? Do the others know? Oh, they don't. That's freaking amazing, I can be like, stealth ninja, catching all the secrets and the juicy deets."

"I feel like a super secret spy."

You jump up and down, clapping your knees in a mini back flip to get started. The staff chuckle as you do some dodging motions, making a dododo mission impossible sound.

"Okay, cool, we're done here? Alright, the girls should be out of the change rooms soon. Who's gonna be my first target. I feel like once they find out they're gonna start avoiding me. So, like, I have to be super stealthy."

Tony, walking onto the pitch behind the team, draws your attention as you pretend to be doing some precursory runs, while the rest of the camera crew pretends to be the photographers for photo day.

"Alright, you lot, let's start with our team photos, since it's photo day. Everyone on the stands, you know the drill."

"Tony! What do we do if we haven't brought our boots?"

You laugh as he rolls his eyes and swats at you lightly. You jog away from your coach and jump up on the stands, intentionally standing one spot to the left to annoy Charlie, who swats at you, shooing you back into place.

"Little turd, move it."

"She's so mean to me."

You wink at the videographers that are setting up.

"Hey guys, Tony says the beep test's optional today."

The girls around you chuckle, and you hear Tony behind you.

"Keep starting rumours, L/n, and you'll be doing it twice."

"No, please."

You turn and give him puppy dog eyes that just make raise a brow at you.

"Ugh, fiiine, I'll behave."

Your arm comes around to rest on Charlie and Alanna shoulders, though you do struggle a bit because Alanna is much taller than you.

"Jeez, Lans, can you like, not be a tree for a second?"

Her elbow digs into your side playfully.

"Can you like, not be a little turd for a second?"

A pout makes it's way onto your face.

*Cut to taking the photo, and everyone's arranged themselves correctly.

"Yo guys, I feel like I'm being bullied here."

-----------

There's the formal picture and the muck around one. Which you end up on Mini's shoulders for.

"Everybody say Mini!"

You throw your arms up in the air as the camera flashes, and Katrina laughs below you.

Tony claps his hands, and the team all move to start the basic dynamic warmups.

-----------

*The camera pans to some cones set out as each group takes their turns dodge and weaving.

"Oh my god, fast feet. Fast feet. Fast feet. Let's f****** go."

The girls in line chuckle behind you and you whoop as Vine follows through behind you.

"Ayyyy, nice one, Viney."

-----------

*Cut to another drill setup.

Your groan is audibly loud as you hear the traumatic sound of the beep test instructional introduction.

"Everybody start, three, two, one, go!"

"Ah f***."

You're panting by the fourteenth round.

"Oi, Tony, can we call it quits now?"

"Nope, keep going."

You pout for a second before jumping when the next beep goes for you to start.

You do halfway decently, making it to level 48 before it catches you off guard.

"You're out, Y/n!"

You grunt and collapse off to the side with the others with a huff, leaving just five of the others still in.

-----------

*Cut to passing drills.

"Ooh, ooh, Foordy, you're my buddy today."

The striker playfully groans, giving you a soft shove. Her arm wraps around your head to give you a noogie.

"Oi, get off!"

"Alrighty, let's go, you lot! That includes you, too, Y/n."

"I feel like I'm being targeted now."

*Cut to short tapping passes.

"Ayo, let's go. I've been practising my mini taps, hit me."

Short sequence of you and Caitlin playing taps with the ball, eventually getting faster to the point of it being a competition to keep it between you.

"Oh f***."

The ball nearly jumps past you for a second before you boot it back.

"Ah s***."

Just barely scrambling to keep it in, you send it back to the striker, but it pops past her to the right.

"YES! Suck on that fast feet!"

The forward clutches at her chest, dramatically falling over and playing dead.

"Nooooooo!"

"HA HA! Victory is miiiine!"

You do a little dance around Caitlin, eventually putting your foot up on the centre of her back in a power pose, grinning at the photographers who take several photos of the moment.

She eventually turns over, shoving your foot off her as you laugh. You pull her up.

-----------

*Another drill set up, shooting this time.

"Woot, yep, here!" "Caity! Here!"

You sprint around the cones as she sends a ball to your head, and you jump to make the header, the ball just barely grazing the post and into the net, falling onto your back with a dramatic scream.

"Oh my f****** god! That was amazing! Ha!"

You shoot up.

"Tony, did you see me? I got an eight footer!"

The camera switches to him, nodding with an amused applause. Off camera, Katrina yells out.

"Honestly, I'm impressed. She only makes up five feet of that!"

The rest of the team and staff crack up at that.

Cut to you, standing still, arms now by your side as your mouth drops open in a confounded expression.

"Did you hear that? Mocking me in my time of triumph. I'm still taller than you, Mini!"

You huff and jog back into line, giving the woman a swat as you pass her.

"Bloody brat, honestly."

You mutter into the mic. You turn to your captain, who's out of frame.

"Sammy! Mini's bullying me!"

"Tell someone who cares, nerd!"

It's faint but still audible, and as the camera pans to her, she takes off with a cheeky grin to make her shot. Which she does, rising to about the same height to make the header.

"Ohhhh! Gah damn! Check it, L/n!"

You just huff, taking a seat as Sam does a backflip.

"Brooo, I just dunked on by the Rabbitohs supporter."

Sam stops, a pout on her face.

"Why you gotta make it personal, bro?"

You poke your tongue out at her.

"Cause the bunnies suck and we all know it. Go the Broncos!"

"Ayyyy, there's my girl!"

You high five Mackenzie as you jog back to the line.

-----------

*Cut to the crew setting up for some scrimmages.

"You think they'll let me pick the teams this time?"

It's said into the mic, but Tony walking up beside you with a resounding, "Not happening." Startles you.

You get picked for Steph's team, opting for war against your skipper now that she's tripped you at least three times since the start of the session.

"I'm gonna get you, Kerr."

"You're not gonna get me."

"I will, fight me on it."

"Chew on my studs, pipsqueak."

"Alright, that's enough, you two. Save it for the scrimmage. Let's set up, you lot."

Steph has to pick you up and walk you away from Sam, a laser point glare from you over her shoulder at the skipper.

"Can you put me down now?"

"You gonna promise not to leave stud marks in Sam's shins?"

"I'll think about it."

"Oh, for the love of god, behave yourself."

It's a stern tone, and the others half to hold back laughs at your dejected expression.

"But she's so mean..."

A stern look from the older girl quietens you, and the camera zooms in on your expression. You give a small wink in its direction.

"What's that, Sammy?! Your mum loves me more than you?! Aw, how sweet is that? I always knew I was the favourite kid. It's okay. Tell Roxy I love her too!"

"Oi!"

You end up getting chased across the pitch to which you move to hide behind Alanna, poking your tongue out at Sam as she growls.

"Samantha Kerr! Back to your side of the pitch!"

It's Steph.

"But she started it!"

"Sam, I swear to god."

"Fiiiine."

You poke your tongue one last time and jog over to the defender, an innocent smile on your face.

"She's a bloody child, ay."

The glare you get from her makes you shrink a little, and Mackenzie just wacks you on the back of the head.

"Owww, Macca!"

You quieten up after that, though, and Steph starts putting everyone into positions and game plans.

-----------

*cut to about halfway through the game, Steph had initially positioned you away from the Skipper to avoid either of you fueling your apparent and sudden sibling rivalry but she ends up having to move you back anyway since you play best in the mirror position to your captain anyway.

"Steph! Hit me! Hitme! Here!"

Just like you'd been practising just minutes earlier, the ball gets sent in directly to your head and slips past Lydia when she goes down for it.

"OHHH, suck on that NeRD!"

You hop around Sam giggling when she tries to swat at you, before you all return to positions.

It's only when a camera cut to minutes later finds you and Sam battling it out in the centre.

The moment she goes for the ball, you slip past her, tapping the ball between her legs and crossing it to Alanna, who volleys it in.

The entire field just breaks into "Ohhhhh"s and whistles.

Sam does a dramatic fall to her knees and flops to the ground as you jump onto Alanna's back with a whoop.

"OH, she's spicy today, ladies and gents!"

Alanna shakes her head, dropping you from her grasp and you both return to your positions.

A couple more minutes go by.

"Oh lordy lord, she's got skill! Mini, watch right! Mini watchright! Ayy atta girl!"

And.

"Clare! I'm here! Toss me! Yepyepyep!"

"Lans! Im going! I'm runnin'!"

"Let's freaking goooo!"

-----------

*The cuts to right before the whistle blows, and Tony calls the end of training.

"Alright, well done, excellent work all of you. Rest up, recovery work, warm down. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

You jump in the centre of the huddle quickly.

"Before anyone leaves, I have an announcement... you're all on Mic'd Up with the Tillies! Photo Day edition!"

Some of the girls groan around you, Sam in particular. Some of them start laughing as you do the stealth stance.

"I was a fricken ninja, guys, I'll tell ya!"

"Yeah, Tony definitely already knew you were Mic'd up."

"Shush, you."

Tony just grins as the camera pans to him, and he winks at it.

-----------------------

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #auswnt x reader #auswnt imagine #auswnt imagines #matildas x reader #matildas imagine #matildas imagines #this was a little cracked ngl

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

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how does her injury happen/her brothers reaction

im going to be writing an in-depth fic for this aswell but with finals the next two weeks i dont have a lot of time! so here's some thoughts!

the injury itself happens during one of her competitions. it's her first season without her abusive coach, and so the pressure was on blake to win because her old coach was notorious for producing winners.

anyway! she agitates her back (which is an injury she's always had troubles with. she sprained it and it never properly healed due to her training) during her short program. she doesn't tell anyone about the injury because she needed to prove she could win. so she competes anyway...

everything's going fine in her long program, until shes almost at the end. she has a short sequence of jumps and she lands the first one fine, until she moves onto her next jump and completely falls out of it.

she falls on her back and shes literally sobbing out in pain on the ice clutching her back. she tries getting up but can't, and thats when the medical team rushes out.

reactions!

jack: actually freaking out. thats his twin! as soon as he sees that shes slow to get up hes rushing his whole family out of their seats so that he can get to her.

when he finds out how serious the injury is hes so upset. hes not allowed to see blake right away, and so hes literally cursing out loud in the hallways.

quinn: hes in shock. he doesnt really say or do anything right away, just sort of letting jack order him and everyone else around. when he finds out its serious, his hands are shaking but he tries his hardest to stay collected for jack who's literally panicking

luke: blake is luke's second mother! when she cries, he cries. and so when he hears her sobbing on the ice he's tearing up and immediately asking his family if she's going to be okay. he doesn't really know what to do when the doctors tell them its a serious injury. he just sits with blake and tries to distract her from the pain/realization that she may not be able to skate anymore. they watch tiktok's or something on his phone.

#blake hughes au #jack hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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jmdbjk · 7 months

Text

Golden

Kookie had a runny nose. He said when he's just hanging out with nothing to do he's fine but as soon as things start ramping up and getting hectic, the cold that won't go away comes back. Jimin was on to something when he said he was concerned about Jungkook staying healthy with such a busy schedule.

As usual he has stayed true to himself and I admire that a person of his age can be so honest about himself.

He was trying to keep it real and said things to lower everyone's expectations: About writing songs, he said he can't really write songs. He said he just doesn't have it in him. He said when he tries it always ends up being about Army.

He wondered if it was because he was so simple. This is what makes me love him as just a human being: he says things about himself that WE might not agree with but that he feels about himself. He's just so honest and unpretentious, and he doesn't even try to be that, he just is himself.

He said he thinks he doesn't have the intellect and that he doesn't have anything to write about, and if he HAD things to write about, he couldn't say them prettily and that there are so many other talented creators that he would just fall short. He mentioned RM, Yoongi, Hobi... they are so talented.

It is understandable that Kookie, being last, he saw what the other members did, and truly, it had to be intimidating. He may never feel confident enough but I bet if he gives it a try he’ll do great.

All of what he said adds another nuance as to why he said “something amazing" is coming when he did that live back in March and Set Me Free Pt 2 was about to drop. He saw how hard Jimin worked through that process and the end result WAS amazing. Intimidating indeed.

Perhaps he still needs to live some life before he can have enough emotional baggage to pour out some lyrics (lol). Give it time, Kookie, life will throw some shit at you. Or maybe expressing whatever is inside of him will never come out in words to a song. And its ok. Not everyone is a songwriter or poet.

I can accept this album as "this is where he is in his life right now". He said they worked fast. That's a lot to accomplish in the amount of time from start to finish.

My thoughts on the songs...

The lyrics to several of these songs are a little ... meh..., sort of disconnected. THAT BEING SAID... I can see some lyrics that probably did resonate with him.

But I am not going to focus so much on the lyrics but more on JK's vocal work and think about how he was trying to sing and pronounce well. THAT is what he was trying to do. He said lyrics are lyrics and images are images... they are not meant to be autobiographical so the lyrics will be secondary to the vocal production for me.

Jungkook explained that the pronunciation was a challenge. The producers each had their own idea of how the lyrics should be delivered to achieve the color of the song. English not being JK's first language, he was coached on what to do in the studio. He said especially pronouncing the "EEE" sound was a challenge.

I recognize some sounds that seem trendy. Some of the songs remind me of other songs I've heard in the past by other artists.

Closer has that flute and Afro beat that reminds me of another song but I just can't remember it right now.

Standing Next to You is giving me Michael Jackson Rock With You from his Off the Wall album or Remember the Time off his Dangerous album. A rockin' groove... "... when it's deep like DNA..." and "leave your body golden like the sun and the moon..." yes, those lyrics definitely resonate.

Yes or No, I can definitely hear the Ed Sheeran throughout that song. A nice song about that first thrill of love. Ed Sheeran is a great song writer. I've always liked his work.

Please Don't Change would probably be the song that comes closest to expressing how Jungkook feels about his fans. Though his life has been spent on camera, things might change and if he's no longer on camera, he'll still be the same but he hopes we please don't change. This song also has the same little flute sound as Closer.

Hate You. This is the Shawn Mendes song. It is one of those angsty relationship songs that are popular now like what Olivia Rodrigo and her ilk does. If Jungkook had not gotten this song, I could see it easily going to a female artist. It's quite painful. Kookie does a great job expressing the tragic drama of it all with his vocals.

Somebody is where he really lets loose with his range. Its a sad song. Like many, his opening lines had me doing a double take. I don't think we've ever heard Jungkook sing in this tone before? Very nice.

Too Sad To Dance. This is the kind of song I think Jungkook could write. It is simple and straightforward. The song is cute and poignant at the same time. He was able to keep his tone simple to match the vibe, he didn’t try to make it over the top… I love this song especially the very last line: "...you don't need no one to dance..." Stand on your own and be yourself, just like Kookie is doing.

Shot Glass Full of Tears is the best song on the album. There, I said it. He really reached down and brought JUST enough edge into his voice to pull it off. I could actually get emotional over this song. I will repeat, this is the best song on the album.

Well done, Jungkook.

Overall, Kookie is relieved the pressure is off. Now he can get out there and do what he’s knows he can do and that’s performing

And then he said it again: BTS is the most important thing to him.

Kookie knew he had to do this album. And now he's done it and ready to move forward.

When he finally realized Tae had commented:

The panic over his house not being clean hahahahahah!

Because he wasn't sure what kind of chaos they were going to bring to his house, Kookie ended the live in a stress-clean panic.

My, what a turn of events... not long ago he was laying in bed naked causing mayhem trying to convince Jimin to let him come over and take a shower and now here they come to his house bringing trouble LMAO!

I hope they had a great evening together. I loved seeing Tae and Jimin out and about, it really hits a spot in my heart.

A little while ago, I picked up a copy of Golden at Target, I don't know which photo card is the Target exclusive but this is what I got:

It's a nice package with a hard cover photo book and a case it slides into. The stickers are nice. Jungkook was wearing an earring with the that motif so I suppose it will show up as merch on the Weverse shop soon.

Anyway, that's my review of Golden.

#jungkook golden #vmin #vminkook #jimin #taehyung

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 11 months

Text

A/N: Erik takes over the throne after killing T'Challa. T'Challa was your husband. It's a whole thing. Go to part one because this is the sequel.

As Killmonger talks military advancement without the help of Princess Shuri, who is MIA, your mind drifts. It's been two weeks since that incident, and you're still beating yourself up mentally. One time is an accident, but three? You went three sweaty rounds with the man who killed your husband. You feel despicable.

The worst part? Part of you is ready to do it again. He warned you against crossing a line you'd regret. Now, every time he licks his lips...

"What do you think," one of the scientists asks. You don't recall the question.

"She's a little tired from coaching me all day," Killmonger covers, gesturing to Aneka. "Would you make sure she gets somewhere to rest."

You leave with Aneka and ignore her concerned questioning.

"Are you going to ignore us forever?"

"Yes," you nod, then continue brooding as if she isn't there. Every now and then, you fall into a grief that's hard to pull yourself out of, but now you've added guilt.

"Not today, not now," your leg rocks. You tell yourself to pull it together. You have more responsibility now. You're an advisor. You need to be sharp. Get it together.

After regrouping, you're able to return and hear explanations of the new weaponry and armored suits. T'Challa used to handle this with his little sister. You were never this involved, with anything, really. You barely recognize yourself these days.

At the palace, you walk the courtyard for some air and think about T'Challa. What would he say to this new Queen? 'You're much harder on yourself than I ever was' sounds like him. You smile with sadness. You've been lonely, and loneliness will make anyone do things they typically wouldn't, like having sex with your husband's killer. You imagined T'Challa all three times and the time before that when you received oral sex. It made sense in your head, but no one would understand. No one could know.

Watching you from an above-floor window, Erik glows in his accomplishments. You've been losing focus but ultimately falling in line. The Queen at his side brings a legitimacy to his rule that ritual combat alone does not. With you there, people move easier, more willing to comply. They see you and feel safer, more trusting of him.

At his desk, he inks out more of his plan to turn wardogs into agents who will topple their respective countries from the inside using chaos tactics as he's been taught. Blood, trickery, and deception in trade for global freedom. Wakanda will be the new Mecca.

As soon as you come back in, he can bring you up to speed and ease you gently into his real plan. Bit by bit.

Signing off, he sets it aside.

"Has the queen returned yet," he asks Ayo who mans the door. She comes inside to check, looking out the window.

"No, she is outside."

"What's she doing?"

"Just... lying on her back in the grass."

"Go get her," he nods.

"Yes, my king."

"You sent for me?" You enter the office and your eyes zero in on the walls. Your jaw drops.

"You're quick."

Your head tilts as you try to comprehend what you're seeing and why. You close your eyes, and they open on Killmonger.

"The past kings' pho-tos are miss-ing," you say very slowly, looking at that face of pure ignorance and disregard. "Namely, my hus-band's."

That was the first spot your eyes traveled. There's no reason for him to take that specific one down. He knows how important T'Challa's presence is to you.

"Where did you put it?"

"Oh, right here. Just some redecorating."

He produces the frame, pulling it from under his desk and presenting it to you.

Your lids droop. You grasp it, suddenly just as distrustful of him as the day he showed up. You put T'Challa's photo back on the wall, making sure it hangs straight.

"What is it you want, Killmonger?"

Eyeing T'Challa's picture to ensure there are no marks or tears, you clasp your hands behind your back to listen.

"Well... Now that you're back, I can tell you all about the new plan and shoot some things your way." His pen clicks.

You turn back and take the page from him as though you're looking it over.

"Overall," he continues, "What's your predicted outcome should we pit our warship against a Navy vessel?"

Rip. Tear. You shread the page into pieces that you drop all at once.

To his raised brow, you ask again. "What do you WANT?" You feel like he's been bullshitting you these past few weeks, taking advantage of your emotional state.

"I told you. I want to run these ideas through you before I do it."

Your lips thin with tension. You're not stupid. You can feel his dishonesty. Little by little, you've been dragged into his web. T'Challa's picture being taken down makes it absolutely clear.

"You want to replace T'Challa in more than position. You want to replace him in memory."

He looks confused.

You shake your head evenly. "I won't let that happen. I told you. As long as I live, so will his legacy!"

"Wait," Erik chuckles. He has to stand for this, surprised at your nerve. "While you iced your wounds, I talked to the scientists alone. You don't want people to think we're together? Ok. Out of respect for your marriage, I defended that. Now you accuse me of trying to erase your husband's memory?"

Your eyes don't waiver.

With a scoff, he shakes his head. His fist hits the desk in frustration.

"This is why I know you're the only one who can serve as my Queen." Chef's kiss. "Now I can stop pretending."

"I knew you were a low-down, slimy bastard and I should have killed you when the opportunity presented itself."

"May I ask, what are you gonna do NOW that you know I don't give a fuck?"

"I won't make that mistake again," your nose scrunches.

Picking up the stack of frames, he tosses them onto the desk like old junk.

"Fuck these niggas! I'M the king now," he growls, no longer pretending to care about the disgust manifesting in your deep brown eyes.

"It's over with! He's dead. He ain't fuckin coming back."

That one hurt your feelings.

He snorts and spits on the stack of frames before him, looking you in the eyes as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Now take that shit and get it out my office," he waves toward T'Challa's hanging photo, dismissing you, his back turning as he faces the window.

You wish you could push him through, but the glass is thick. Instead, you step outside and snatch Ayo's spear from her grasp, threatening her with it so she backs down.

You march back into the office and with both hands, drive the point directly through his armor and through the center of his back. It takes you multiple thrusts, all of your energy each time. His palms are planted against the window as you attempt to nail him through it.

The few Dora in attendance finally take advantage of the moment, yelling their battle cry as they attack.

Erik's black and gold suit materializes on his body as he backhands you out of the way, down to the floor. You roll from the force, but Aneka's spear would've knocked you out in her desperate attempt for a headshot.

Block. Block. Dodge. Attack.

Erik's strength, combined with the strength of the black panther, has him slinging Aneka and Okoye across the room like rag dolls, ultimately sending them both through a wall.

"Shake it off," Erik teases.

Wobbly, they stand and let the plaster fall.

The spear in his back is the motivation he needs. With a heavy sniff, he pulls it and calculates the Dora's incoming attacks.

Okoye's coming at his right side. Ayo, though weaponless, is coming at his left. He uses force to blow them both back, leaving Aneka to come for him head-on again. Getting behind her, he twists and drives Ayo's spear directly through her body, watching Ayo and Okoye as he does it.

"No," Ayo gasps.

"Oh yes," Erik smiles, waving her forward to be next as Aneka thuds to the ground, lifeless.

Okoye charges with tears in her eyes, a noble suicide, but you jump in with Aneka's spear.

Again, Erik knocks you out the way. Now, he has to dodge and fight.

High on adrenaline, Erik battles her spear to spear, distracting her to slice her face with his claw. In that moment, he gets the gut shot.

As an insult to injury, he rips the spear out of her body and stabs through her back when she falls.

"You standing there powerless. COME DO SOME," he looks to you. Scowling, he tosses Okoye's spear at Ayo and gets into position.

"For Wakanda," she announces, running into a quick death. He slashes her throat easily.

"YOU HAPPY?" Erik turns to you. "LOOK WHAT YOU CAUSED."

He sighs, seeing you fearful on the floor, and quickly checks his anger. Losing a few Dora is nothing in the grand scheme. Losing you would be an issue. The blood all over the room can and will be cleaned, but as for you...

"Go to your room."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some child," you stand, suddenly rediscovering your boldness.

He holds the bloody spear in his hands casually to your throat.

"I won't kill you. I will, however, knock yo ass out if you EVER... do that shit again."

You glare at him with easy eye contact, and you are definitely planning your next attempt for some time soon. The instant look of defiance is his weakness.

"You know, the more you rebel, the sweeter the reward in breaking you."

He lowers the spear from your neck and lets it clang to the ground.

"Fuck T'Challa. All this shit is mine now, including you," he points.

Stepping over Aneka's dead body, you stand inches from him, looking up into his eyes. Your finger digs each time it taps his chest to drive your point across.

"You may have the title, Killmonger. You may have the power. You will never have the honor. You aren't half the man T'Challa was, and you'll never replace him in the hearts that matter. I swear to you... You will die by my hand, and I will dance on your unmarked grave."

"I look forward to it." He closes the distance. You can feel his erection pressing against you. Appalled, you nearly trip over Aneka to get around him, leaving the room and feeling his eyes on you.

For the next few days, you avoid Killmonger. The Dora are lesser in number. You wonder if sense will ever catch on, but don't hold your breath.

Killmonger leaves you alone until it's time to make an appearance to the Jabari. He sends for you, and when you refuse, he comes to get you.

There's no knock. He lets himself into your quarters as you're journaling in front of the vanity mirror.

"Tantrum over. It's time to go."

You ignore him and continue writing, the sunlight bright and pouring in through the large window.

"So you ain't leaving?"

You tune him out completely. Your mental and emotional state has been everywhere lately. You need some calm and stability.

He closes and locks your door, still in the bedroom.

When you finally do look at him, Erik has passed annoyed and gone into petty. He reads over your shoulder, kissing his teeth and moving on.

"Still crying over T'Challa," he scoffs. "But fucking me. What would he think seeing his wife in that position so soon after his death?"

You're still silent, but your pen stalls. He smirks, knowing what buttons to press as he paces the vast bedroom.

"I bet he turned in his grave that night you reached for me, wanting me, pulling me closer. The man who defeated him in ritual combat and took his life. I took everything from him just like this place did to me. And you thanked me."

"Enough!"

"That pussy was wet and waiting. Wasn't it?"

"Shut up," you growl, slamming your pen against the table. "You're vulgar, and you're wrong. I wasn't thinking about you. I was missing my husband! You wouldn't understand."

"You were using me to get off," Erik nods, stopping at the window. "To ease your loneliness, thinking we're the same. We're not the same. You grew up in a cozy little castle. I grew up scraping for everything I got in Oakland. You had a silver spoon while I got mine out the mud."

"Silver spoon?" You laugh bitterly, turning to follow him with your eyes. "Don't assume you know anything about my life."

"But I do," Erik smiles wryly. "You're from the Water tribe where food is plentiful. Mommy and Daddy only had to worry about you and your sister."

"Say one thing about my family and I swear," you threaten as he plays with the pattern of the thin veil of a curtain. Hand-stitched.

"The biggest threat you've had your entire life was a lion or something local that was taken care of within a matter of days, weeks, months... You don't know the definition of grief, pain, loss, or oppression you spoiled brat," he turns back, pulling the thread.

It's sturdily made and doesn't unravel.

"That's where you're wrong," your eyes narrow, full of anger. "Thanks yo you, I now have personal experience with ALL of the above."

"I can't feel sorry for no rich kept lil girl when niggas like me who put their life on the line die every day."

You toss a glass vase of wild picked flowers that he easily dodges. It smashes on the wall, leaving flowers, glass, and water scattered. Another tantrum.

"How dare you come into my country and presume to know about me and my family when you couldn't even save your own. I heard about your mother," you smirk evilly when you see you've got your in. "People talk. Your mother died in jail. Like mother, like father, like son!"

Erik's jaw clenches, his eyes darkening as he struggles to find his restraint quickly.

"I'll do you a favor and end your miserable bloodline myself," you sneer. "Then you can reunite with your criminal mother and your treacherous father."

"You seemed to like it when I buried this criminal, treacherous dick inside of your pretty little kept warmth. 'You're a monster! You're a villain!' But my dick was inside you. I killed T'Challa with these two hands," he grins, holding them up to you.

These hands that touched you. These hands that rubbed every inch of you and held you at night when you asked.

"Oh, T'Challa, T'Challa," his head rolls, mocking you. "All that and you still coated my dick in cum. I made you taste it, just to show you. What does that say about YOU, Ms. Perfect?"

He awaits your reply with a raise of his brow.

"You stuck?"

You look away, turning back to your journal quietly.

"Uh, uh. You don't get to talk shit and back out. I want all that smoke you had."

You jump up and come at him with your pen as he laughs.

"What's that supposed to do."

You stop on his foot and jab it in the side of his neck. He chuckles, grabbing your fists and throwing you. Immediately you get up looking for something. He watches you find the big piece of broken glass on the floor.

"Don't cut yourself," he cautions, interested in your next attack. He smirks as you come up him high, but drop low.

"Aye," he jumps back. "That's my dick. I use that."

It's what you were aiming for.

"You a lil dangerous," he concedes, grabbing your hand to shake glass out. He kicks it away.

"But, baby, I'm hard to kill. Your nigga couldn't even do it. What makes you think you can?" His hand cradles the soft skin of your face though you turn away.

"You're getting used to me."

"No, Killmonger, I never will," you combat, but in the scheme of things, things are still going pretty well.

He shrugs, a smug dimpled smirk still on his face.

"Ok. Then you won't."

Erik heads to the door unbothered, unlocking it on his exit. As he walks through the corridor, he can't help but reflect on the fun he's had.

The more you fight, the more he wants to conquer you and claim you for his own.

He snickers, what you did with the glass sticking with him.

Sooner or later, just like that vase... you WILL break.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @tgigoldie @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybee @playgurlxoxo

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction

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clovermarigold · 4 months

Note

Could you do a one shot of MK1 Johnny with a street racer reader?

Johhny Cage x Street Racer Reader

Johnny was in peak of his career, every movie he was in earning award after award. He was practically expected in every action movie of the decade, along with the occasional rom com. So here he is, looking over the long list of films his agent had procured for him to star in. Most had been by the request of their directors, but a few were movies his agent went out of his way to look into.

Being that films took years of work to film and edit, reshoots and last second voice overs, Johnny could only really commit to one, and the occasional small series or backup role. Looking through the list his attention was caught by a high pace action movie where he would star as the lead; an undercover cop trying to crack down on Los Angeles' street racing epidemic, only to be drawn into numerous hijinks.

It seemed like an interesting concept, the script was good, and he did have experience with this studio and director. But the real draw was the warning that was attached with the script.

Due to the risk factor involved in numerous stunts, scenes, as well as for realisms purposes. All cast members will be required to take safety courses as well as in constant supervision of professional consultant at all times.

He was going to be doing his own stunts and working with a real street racer. If that didn't have 'Cage Flick' written all over it in bold he didn't know what did.

He of course got the part, he still questioned why the audition was even necessary.

His first day on set was simple enough, meeting the cast and crew, as well as a few brief investors for the movie. That was until he met you.

You had grown up in LA and gotten into street racing fairly young, so naturally you were the best pick for this job. And the producers were willing to pay a fuck ton to be able to advertise that extra layer of 'authenticity'.

You were an instant hit with the cast, getting along with nearly all of them instantly. Johnny in particular was rather captivated. It was your first time meeting such a high-profile celebrity, even as a born and raised LA resident.

The attraction on Johnny's part was immediate. Confident, hot, and looked damn good in the driver seat.

Throughout shooting, you had coached Johnny on safety guidelines and how to do complex drifts and turns.

That wasn't to say the attraction was one-sided. Hell, you had thirsted over this man with your friends when you binged his movies. So, when you heard the director making fun over him about his less than hidden attraction towards you, you took your chances.

A hand guiding his when instructing him how to use the gear shift, giving him pats on the back when he figured out how to pull off the reversed driving sequence, and being extra sure he was behind you when you decided to bend over to inspect the hood of the car. (there was nothing wrong with it)

Despite what media would have you think, being an actor is a very busy and grueling job. Johnny had wanted to ask you out a number of times, but by the point he had enough courage and confidence that you were also interested, filming had wrapped up.

So here he was, sitting in an Italian tux, surrounded by some of the most talented minds in the filming industry, with an Oscar nomination, wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

"Johnny" he looked to his co-star sitting to his left. Looking down to see the small bound together papers with the word 'draft' on it.

"It's soon, but, by the looks of it.... It's been greenlit" A sequel?

Well, seeing as he was the main lead, it was no doubt they'd need him to come back. And if they did?

He knew the condition he was going to demand if they wanted him.

Maybe he could finally ask you out for that drink.

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #street racing #movie au #fast and furious #mk1

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witch-and-her-witcher · 3 months

Text

Chapter Twenty

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

For my darling @asnowfern!

Ao3 | Chapter 20/30

~*~

The evening becomes sitting around the dining room table, everyone’s hands busy either knitting, holding the baby when she wakes up, or playing cards. Mor doesn’t stay very late, needing to return to “the city” — which Nesta now knows to be Velaris.

What a loss, to not have her nose high in the air and snide, backhanded remarks.

Or the slightly shitty way Cassian talks about their mutual acquaintances as they catch up. Like he’s in on the joke and the joke is at everyone else’s expense. It’s a crueler, colder side of the male than she’s grown accustomed to and there’s only one added influence.

Elain has been kicking Nesta’s foot under the table regularly when her hackles rise at the female’s irritating ways, at the way her and Cassian roar with laughter and casually touch …

Yeah, Nesta really doesn’t fucking like Mor.

“Tita Koa is craving her pickled cabbage,” Mor says, nose scrunched in obvious distaste. “Can you get the jar for me, Cass? I’ll take it back with me and see if she cries at the sight or tries to rip my head off to get at it.”

“How is she getting along?” Tita Noonya asks, kissing two of her fingers and sending them up skyward. “I pray the baby is growing well?”

“Oh, just crazy mood swings, non-stop eating and then non-stop throwing up. Not that anyone would know looking at her, she holds it together so well. But she may lose her mind if Owain keeps her on the no-flying restriction.”

Tita Noonya clucks her tongue and lifts her nose in the air. “That male has no clue.”

“Careful,” Cassian warns, patting the baby’s bottom. He’s been holding her while coaching Elain through an Illyrian card game.

“What? Like he’ll hear me all the way over here? He’d rather we waste away into nothing unless it's time to bleed our young people dry or produce an heir. Those High Fae have never deserved Illyrian strength in their blood lines. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but those children will be the strongest in history all thanks to Koa. The Night Court will be the mightiest all thanks to the people they treat like pig shit.”

Cassian passes the baby to Elain. “I don’t disagree with most of that … but it’s important we don’t breed dissent. Koa and Owain’s mating bond have given us an opportunity —”

Tita Noonya erupts in a flurry of Illyrian and Nesta can feel the tides of an old current of hard feelings, an old argument. Cassian bears it all without flinching. A glimpse of the illustrious Morrigan shows through as Mor also gracefully hears out Tita Noonya. Once Tita Noonya collapses back into her chair with a puff of red cheeks, Mor comes to her side to touch her shoulder.

“I know you worry about your sister. It isn’t the Illyrian way, but Koa is safe. The High Lord would never do anything to harm his mate or his baby. As for the rest …” She shoots Cassian a look and Nesta feels more than sees his apprehension. “It will take time. No one was untouched by this war, but what has happened for the humans is promising.”

“Bah. Locked behind a wall. Real promising. We already have our icy tundra of a prison.”

Mor squeezes Tita Noonya’s shoulder and steps back. “I’ll let Koa know you’re thinking of her. She’ll come back to visit as soon as she can.”

Tita Noonya nods and returns to her knitting. There’s enough tension in her brow to know nothing Mor has said has truly resolved her grievances.

“I’ll go dig up the jar,” Cassian says, not letting the silence settle for long. He shoots Nesta a look and gestures towards Tita Noonya, but Nesta pointedly ignores him.

Unspoken communication isn’t for males who run off to get drunk with their friends and come back and act like a stranger.

If Cassian notices, he doesn’t react. Instead, he follows Mor to the back of the house.

Nesta is endlessly intrigued as to what they’ll discuss back there, what their opinion is of Tita Noonya’s viewpoint.

It sounds exactly like the radical sentiments made before humans and fae became divided between Loyalists and Abolitionists — but then, humans have numbers on their side and Illyrians long lives and low birth numbers. A rebellion would surely end swiftly and badly and those left would have to bear the consequences for centuries, the only reasonable explanation to staying their hands this far.

At least, from what Nesta has gathered in the sparse time she’s lived in Windhaven.

Gods, she hasn’t even seen Illyria outside of this town.

As if reading her mind, Tita Noonya peers up at her. “You have a big event coming up. You can’t fuck it up.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “Inspired.” As if she needs anymore fuel to her anxiety.

“I will have your robes altered by then,” Tita Noonya says, jabbing her knitting needle towards her. “Don’t gain any more weight until then, got it?”

“You’re never satisfied. First, I was too skinny, now —”

“— I thought you would gain weight like a female! Not like a milking cow!”

“Pardon?”

Elain is badly covering her laughter when Cassian saunters back into the room. Nesta throws her hands up.

“Defend my honor!”

“What’s to defend? I like where you gain your weight.”

“Pogi!”

There are tears welling in Elain’s eyes. It’s a toss-up who looks more offended, Tita Noonya or Nesta, while Cassian rustles his wings and grins toothily. All male pride.

It would be disgusting, if it didn’t ignite that spark of desire that remains running between them, only lying dormant when they’re not touching or tasting or fucking it into a whipped-up frenzy. It reminds her where they left off before coming downstairs, before having to bear Mor’s company. That spark alights the bond, it purrs and urges Nesta to show off just what Cassian finds attractive about her.

To take him back up to bed and pick right back up where she’d left him panting and wanting.

#CYLMWIHM #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

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Sarge and lil Mama Headcanons

I’ve never done a headcanon post and am rather dissatisfied with this one, mostly because I’m itching to write full fledged, descriptive blurbs and fics elaborating on these highlights. But this way y’all will get a little taste and hopefully something will spark your interest as I’d welcome any prompts, requests and suggestions for which ones you’d like to see written out in full 🌹

Warnings: NSFW…breeding kinks, lactation kinks, gender roles, housewife kink, innocence kink, free use, lots of kids, withdrawal mentions, Army Elvis being a hot tamale

The attraction starts a little differently from the usual romance, this man thought of you as the sweet and kitchen-skilled daughter of a Memphian music producer until one day Gladys opened her mouth to tell her impressionable son something along the lines of: “now there’s a pretty gal who would make you a marvelous wife and mother to your children”

Ever after that, this poor young man can’t help but think of you in that context, laying beneath him as he breeds you, swelling with his children, giving him little heirs to Graceland and then the whole cycle begins again…the other girls and the starlets are hot stuff and they’re all great for romance and sex, but when he’s alone in his room he wrings his poor cock out to the thought of filling you with his children and binding you to him forever. His intentions towards you are so wholesome they’ve turned primal, and it takes him ages to work up the courage to ask your daddy for your hand

This asking gets precipitated by two events: his induction into the army and the death of his mother. Without her in his life he can’t fathom making a home across the ocean without a woman, his woman, the woman his mama pointed out and he’s been married to in his head for a humiliating length of time

I mean, sure you’ve been trying to be a comfort to him whenever you two interact since his mama’s passing, and maybe you took more baked goodies over to the big house than strictly necessary, but it was all to make him get off the floor and stop looking so hollow, to be there for Gladys’ son and your father’s friend.

Here he’s been wanking to the thought of you swollen with his kids while you’ve been baking pies, finishing school and keeping your expectations for romance low.

But had such a fixed determination regarding your role in his life he forgets how little you’ve been let in on the secret. He’s been keeping his behavior circumspect around you as he distrusts what his instincts might compel him to do if he caught you alone wearing a dress and that perfume that sends him nuts

So it’s a shock to not really be asked, but rather told that you’re gonna marry him, like it’s something you owe the nation -like jury duty or the draft

And see, it’s gotta happen soon since he’s leaving and he wants to bring ya overseas with him and -well, that’s how you end up three months later laying beneath the King of Rock and Roll as he takes your virginity and makes you his wife,

He definitely tells you why he wanted you that night, praises you for being wife material and you preen under the weight of his adoration.And he absolutely asks you, as you both sit on the edge of the bed with his hand in your hair: “do you know what mamas and daddies do when they got to bed, lil one?”

You don’t, not really, all the “conjugal advice” dear sweet freshly married you got from your mama was to “be good” for your husband. So by golly you do it, you’re beyond good for him that first night and he coaches you through his voice tender, grounding and soft as he shows you

Wide eyed and fuzzy headed from the heat of his hand on your thigh you hear him explain, “the daddy goes inside the mommy’s kitty, baby”

It’s all alright, he tells your doe-eyed self, he’ll show you how it’s done between man and wife before God’s watching eyes, “thas’ it… spread ya legs lil.. no not that way… no.. goddamn it hang on honey lemme help ya”

And sure, partway through you’re asking “really Elvis? You’re not pulling my leg are ya? You’re really supposed to go inside me?” And he’s all, “How else am I gonna plant babies in your womb, honey? Gotta go far up in or else they’ll just get lost in your belly, with the cake you ate.”

He’s a bit insecure about the fact he has been long besotted with you and you’re merely fond of him. And so, both to assuage any guilt he might have over possibly pressuring you and to make you prove you want this -he has you on top, has you do the first impaling of your own free will

And he makes it so good for you that first night -after all, he wants you to look forward to him merging with you, he wants you to want to take him as often as he wants to take you, wants you to crave being filled, to be dissatisfied every minute he’s not inside you

He’s the one to teach you everything about such matters and as you’ve no set parameter or established sense of what’s “proper” or “dirty” you soak up every wicked trick he shows you. He gets to mould you into the perfect wife, perfect for his cock and his tastes, taking him just how he wants, whenever he wants, and your sweet self is in shambles from how good his foreign activity feels.

Now the papers, they’re having a field day. The colonel makes certain this sudden change of status is used for full image rehabilitation effect, there’s heaps of praise for Elvis the Pelvis repenting of his wildness and settling down, embracing the role of a wholesome family man.

When you visit him at Fort Hood and show up in your little sundress to the accompanying sound of wolf whistles, he's knocked flat on his ass by the sight of your pretty body filled out and matronly, a glow about you that suggests that finally you have the little piece of the puzzle of you that was missing before -him, a little bit of him inside you at all times

He pulls you aside for a frantic chat, eyebrows drawn together as he huffs out, u could so a specific like “Lordy, baby you been walkin around like that? glowin with your tits all big and swollen… shit... ain’t nobody look at ya too long did they?” “no elvis” “good answer lil girl i was bouta bust some heads in”

You have those twins right before he has to go overseas, and he forgets himself he’s so anxious he nearly crushes your little hand during labor

Elvis is a mess because you aren’t fit to travel and he has to leave you behind, no amount of money getting thrown around can allow him to stay longer, so he leaves you tearful, promising to get you over with the rest of his family and entourage

A nasty bout of mastitis makes your sicker than ever and delays any impromptu flights you might have tried to take, and Elvis is so worried for you since not even his mama is back home to make sure you’ll be alright, you’re all alone when he promised that you’d always be together as a family

One of y’all’s long distance phone calls gets bugged and recorded, sold to the papers and let’s just say that while the rest of the nation is choking on their eggs while reading a printed transcript of y’all’s dirty talk in the morning papers, you and Elvis are besides yourselves with anger and frustration that even this little comfort and closeness has been taken from you

It also disillusions the public regarding Elvis’ supposed reformation of character, he always has looked like he knows how to fuck, and now there’s swelling proof of that fact in you

Christmas is just around the corner -his first without his mama- and you’re healed up and mad enough that you pull some strings of your own and haul Grandma Dodger and the twins to an international airport and fly to Germany in Pan Am commercial class seats

That reunion at the airport?! Oh yeah, I’ve got a fic coming…let’s just say he missed ya, and he needs to inspect ya, make sure his boobs and his pussy are fully recovered

Reunion sex is trying to be hushed cause he’s living with other folks, but let’s face it, you two holler till the whole block knows what you’re up to, and you two can’t wait to get a house of your own

Succeed at that but then, it’s full of people often too

Which, seeing as how he wants free reign to take you every chance he can get, fill ya up again, that just won’t do. This is the true honeymoon of your married lives, and he’s got his little babies he wants to get to know

So yes, he rents other houses around the base for his family and entourage just so he can slip inside you whenever he wants, while you’re at the sink, or spread out on the kitchen table -undisturbed, save for occasional noise complaint - and talk, oh you two talk and this is where you truly fall in love with the man, not the legend

These days are the happiest of your life looking back, a taste of normality where you can look back and see your man coming home to you by six o’clock, dinner thirty minutes later, babies bathtime and reading time after that, and then the rest of the night to yourselves - alright, often you two fall asleep holding the snuggly little nuggets, let’s be honest…this man can hardly stand being parted from them more than he already is

Speaking of not being parted… cockwarming while nursing happens very often on the living room sofa, he helps support your tired arms and everything, and it’s almost boyish the way he peeks over your shoulder, his lips part and his eyes get wonderous as he watches his little ones taking their nourishment from your body

It doesn’t take you long to set up house and get into a rhythm, which means you notice when things are off -even if you two hadn’t much married time before all this. So it isn’t many nights reunited before you notice the addition of pills to his bedtime regimen and he tells you he hasn’t been sleeping well all alone out here, and you suggest an experiment… wearing him out before bed, and whenever he gets a craving in the night, you’re there for him to use… yes, we are gonna go full “breaking addiction through Free Use” here

Which is really just swapping one addiction for another -pills for pussy, but hey, it works and you haven’t been back a whole month before those tell tale signs reemerge and Elvis is the one to spot them first -half because he is so eager for it to happen again and for him to finally be apart of it, and another because this boy has studied the subject extensively in the interim and knows what to look for

This next pregnancy he is all over you, everything he missed before due to enforced separation he gets to watch unfold in real time, and to his consternation, he finds that you being pregnant is just as appealing if not more so than you fertile, his lust is magnified by gratitude now, as well as the sneaking suspicion that you’ve really finally fallen irrevocably in love with your crazy soldier boy

Elvis is so invested in your well-being when you are pregnant that he is reading all the recommended books, in between his army duties. This man lays in bed at night, glasses on, reading aloud to you by lamplight about all processes and symptoms, what stage your babies are at now (he swears it’s another set) and he goes to every doctors appt with you. He’s the one to ask tons of questions and actually tries to school the doctor on certain things, cause he’s a precious know-it-all with conviction

You visit him on base often and become quite popular with your goody basket, pretty smile and ripe tits -which drives him nuts when all the guys comment and notice that little Mrs Presley sure is a doozy… he just might haul you to the break room and take you on the pool table…and if they’re watchin him give it to ya real good through the glass doors?! Oh well, that ain’t his problem

After the third or fourth set of Irish twins the neighbors -and the general public- start to wonder if maybe this wholesome family might have a salacious underbelly…the other army wives pity you and your constant state of barefoot and pregnant, but your smug little face says: my man makes it worth it it

You two throw the best house parties over there, and in case all this talk of breeding has made you think this boy has forgotten his oral fixation…ha no, he mumbles his praises into your pussy for being such a remarkable hostess and an impeccable wife and mother after the guests clear out….sometimes before

This man, I am sorry to say, blames you and your tight little coochie for his trash pull out game, he’s all “honey, if you didn’t clench like a goddamn fury i-I might h-have a chance, but as it is, y-you gotta stay in p-p-possession of yourself if you want me to pull out, it’s the lady’s responsibility, i-it’s different for men, w-we can’t help getting carried away”

He tells you the condoms grit his foreskin so you burn them without a second thought, you’re addicted to the friction anyway

Riding him while wearing his army hat might be the first time you get a taste of submissive E, he goes from critiquing your salute and posture “straighten those shoulders out honey, drop that hand snappy, now!” (all while railing you from underneath ya) to being a glassy eyed mess when you cockily ask “you like that Sarge?” while swiveling on him like he’s an toy boy barstool

Returning stateside in the snow, in full view of a crowd of swarming fans and photographers with at least five more children than you two left with

For the next couple decades you rent out the entire top floor of every hotel you stay in just so the kids can freely run down the hall

#reposting for masterlist purposes #since the other links are deactivated #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #headcanon #mine #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you

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the-masculine-alpha · 4 months

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The Rugby Captain Who Lost a Bet and Embraced His Inner Sissy

Being a rugby captain comes with its own set of challenges – leading the team, making tough decisions, and facing opponents on the field. But for one rugby captain, his biggest challenge came off the field in the form of a lost bet with his teammate.

It all started innocently enough, with some friendly banter between two teammates during a training session. The stakes were set high – if the captain's team won their next game, his teammate would have to do a forfeit. However, if they lost, the tables would turn and the captain would be the one facing a humiliating punishment.

Little did he know that this bet would not only lead to him confessing his deepest secret but also embracing it in front of his hot girlfriend and her friends.

Fast forward to the day of the game, and it was a close call. Both teams put up a good fight, but in the end, the captain's team fell short by just a few points. As he walked off the field, he couldn't help but feel disappointed not only in losing the game but also in what was to come.

His teammate didn't waste any time in reminding him of their bet. With a smirk on his face, he produced a pair of pink satin shorts with lace trim and handed them over to the captain. The rest of the team gathered around, eagerly waiting for him to put them on and fulfill his end of the bet.

Reluctantly, the captain took the shorts and headed towards the locker room to change. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he stripped down and pulled on the frilly pink shorts. He couldn't help but blush at how feminine they looked on him.

But that wasn't all – his teammate also handed him a tube of bright red lipstick and challenged him to apply it before heading back out onto the field for the post-game celebrations.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement, the captain hesitantly applied the lipstick and headed back out to face his teammates. To his surprise, they were all cheering and clapping, even his coach who couldn't stop laughing at the sight.

But the real challenge was yet to come – confessing to his girlfriend and her friends. The captain's girlfriend, who had been watching the game from the stands, joined them in the locker room for the celebrations. As soon as she saw her boyfriend in his pink shorts and red lips, she burst into laughter and couldn't wait to hear what he had to say.

Gathering his courage, the captain explained the bet and how he had lost. He also confessed something that he had been keeping hidden for a long time – his love for all things feminine and his desire to dress up like a sissy. He had always been too afraid to share this with anyone, but in that moment, he felt a sense of liberation.

To his surprise, his girlfriend and her friends were not only understanding but also excited to see this new side of him. They encouraged him to embrace his sissy side and even helped him pick out a cute outfit for their night out later.

From that day on, the captain didn't shy away from his sissy side. He would often wear his pink shorts and red lipstick to training sessions and games, much to the amusement of his teammates.

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wrestlingarsenal · 4 months

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I was able to use the Bing Image Generator to create a series of AI scenes that illustrate a wrestling story. Here we have an aging Hollywood star who believes he can remain famous by transitioning to a career in pro wrestling. After all, it's all fake anyway and his fans will go wild over his costume: white trunks with tall cowboy boots.

He soon learns that his sleazy manager added a clause in his contract requiring him to take on a veteran Heel who reigns supreme in the ring and wants to show this pretty-boy that the sport isn't "fake."

It doesn't end well for the movie star as the trained fighter works him over without mercy.

Ever since I used to sketch pro wrestling drawings in my Science notebook while bored in school (hoping none of my classmates would peek over my shoulder and bust me as a gay pervert), I've always wanted to create wrestling-themed comic strips. I could indulge my fantasies, depict my favorite holds, cause handsome actors and other famous studs to suffer in the ring. (You should've seen what happened to our buff young assistant football coach in my drawings when I fantasized him in Tag Team action against the Road Warriors!)

Anyway, I'm glad I've lived long enough to witness the birth of AI because now it's possible to quickly generate in under a minute the kinds of drawings that would've taken me hours to produce. All for free. And my limited artistic skills could never achieve this quality of lighting, shading, skin tone, facial expressions, and musculature.

Plus, the AI machine seems to have a homo-erotic kink (or at least grasps the importance of sex appeal in pro wrestling imagery), because the drawings it spits out often surprise me with a very queer sexual overtone.

#AI wrestling images #bing image generator #celebrity pro wrestling #white wrestling trunks #wrestling in cowboy boots #jobber squash

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deliciouskeys · 8 months

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@cozycornerkinktober's prompt lucky #13: Nursing/lactation

Another deleted scene from the Selfish Gene (Butchlander)

Warnings: Everyone's going to write about HL's canon nursing/breast milk fetish for this one. And uh... so am I. But in mine he's the one lactating so trigger warning for that upfront. Mpreg. Supe baby. Injuries. Weird fetishes. Probably a little bit more emo than I intended. @vanshoundd requested this one, but I'm not at all sure they'll be pleased with the result lol, but I tried! AO3 link.

Butcher’s nose was never that sensitive, but he starts to detect it as soon as he’s out of the elevator on the twenty fourth floor of their new hoity-toity high rise condo building. It hits him full force when he opens the door to the apartment, thick, cloying, notes of melted butter and even something a little like apple, all mixing together into a bouquet that now smells like his partner, like their child, like home. Butcher puts away the groceries he brought in before following the overly familiar, obnoxiously loud sound of the pump coming from their bedroom.

Homelander is sitting half propped up in bed, browsing on his phone, the wearable vest with suction cups stuck to his otherwise bare torso, both 150ml milk bottles half-full with creamy white liquid, frothing up slightly from the negative pressure. Lena’s sleeping soundly on top of his body and not in her crib— as far as Butcher knows she’s never been in her crib in the two weeks since being born, Homelander being completely engrossed with taking her everywhere and keeping her close at all times. He hasn’t really left the house except to go out on the balcony, despite having been so enthusiastic about having the house confinement officially nixed a few months ago. At least their new apartment overlooks Central Park and has two spacious bedrooms— not that Homelander has let Lena stay in her nursery yet. Butcher made a token attempt to convince him that sleeping together with your newborn in the same bed was ill-advised, but SIDS was just not something on Homelander’s list of worries. ‘How about you worry about Sudden Dad Death Syndrome,’ he said dismissively. Butcher had no intention to stay away and sleep in another room. If he’s going to get lasered for rolling over on his infant daughter, well, it was a good run. Homelander seems genuinely worried about that eventuality though, and keeps Lena between his own body and a pillow. Butcher’s not sure how much the pillow would really protect him, but he’s learned not to argue about most of these things. He’s also not sure how much Homelander actually sleeps during the night, because he’s still feeding the baby so often, and every time Butcher wakes up groggy during the night, Homelander’s either feeding, burping, changing, or pumping.

At the moment Lena’s sound asleep, positioned along Homelander’s belly, tiny legs flexibly curled up under her diaper, tiny ribcage visibly moving in and out underneath the tiny blanket draped over her.

“I don’t know how she can sleep through that racket going on near her head,” Butcher says as he lies down next to Homelander.

“It’s really not that loud.” Homelander rolls his eyes, finally putting away the phone.

“It’s pretty loud, love. And I think you’re going to break it soon if you don’t stop running it 24-7.”

Homelander huffs. “What am I supposed to do if I can’t store much inside my body?”

Supplement with formula maybe, Butcher thinks but doesn’t say out loud. It’s a really sore topic they’ve been over multiple times over the past couple of weeks. Homelander’s body responded to pregnancy by the textbook, golden colostrum letting down as soon as Lena rut her face into his chest, not even an hour after being born. But his milk supply never came in as plentifully as the lactation coach assured him it would. He produced milk quickly, but had little storage capacity. His chest was only a little bit more swollen and veiny than before pregnancy, and there was apparently just not enough volume for a satisfying feeding, even for a tiny newborn. Butcher had probably never seen him as upset as when he was frantically switching Lena from one nipple to the other, to no avail because she’d drained both in short order and was crying for more. “Why can’t I do this right?!” he’d lamented, sobbing about his failure, rather than the fact that their famished newborn’s suction was apparently strong enough to make his nipples’ skin chafe, pop, and bleed. Butcher fed Lena formula out of a bottle between her breast feedings during those first few days, and Homelander refused to even watch it happen, lying in bed turned away, weeping, depressed, and defeated. The mere sight of the bottle would send him into what, in Butcher’s mind, was irrational hysterics, but suggesting that there might be some postpartum depression at play here was angrily dismissed out of hand. Butcher found what was at least a stopgap solution, buying one of those supplemental nursing systems where breast milk could be mixed with formula to boost the volume and be used to feed the baby through a thin plastic tube taped to align right with the nipple. All the nice physical bonding of not using a bottle, without the anxiety about your baby going hungry, Butcher figured. But Homelander was still a purist, and wanted zero Similac in the mixture. That’s why he’d taken to pumping day and night, every hour except when Lena was actually latched on to him. For better or worse, it seemed to be working, his body slowly adjusting to meet the demand. In the past few days, he finally started having leftovers to freeze.

“I just feel like I haven’t been able to talk to you without raising my voice over the din of that motor,” Butcher says, cupping Homelander’s face and kissing him on the cheek, then rubbing his hand against the rough beard bristles on his chin. Homelander was so focused on his baby that apparently he stopped prioritizing shaving every morning, brushing his hair, or showering.

“Sorry, I haven’t been taking care of myself today,” Homelander says defensively as Butcher’s hand runs along his jaw.

“D’you want to?” Butcher asks.

Homelander looks down at Lena and sighs.

“I can watch her while you take a fifteen minute shower,” Butcher says, both amused and annoyed. “You can’t keep being this much of a control freak.”

“If she wakes up-”

“I’ll inform you at once, commander-in-chief, Jesus.”

“And if she…”

He trails off but Butcher knows what Homelander is getting at without any more being said. Lena has yet to actually fire off a laser but her eyes have powered up a glow a couple of times in the past two weeks. They haven’t been able to pinpoint what seems to trigger it. Every time it’s happened she was latched on, feeding, and not fussing. Butcher thinks it’s overwhelmed-with-happiness-and-pleasure lasers, not rage-lasers, but they can’t know for sure.

“I’ll be careful and point her away from me. What do you want me to say?”

Homelander nods and slowly sits up. Lena makes a quiet whimper and he freezes but she seems to go right back to sleep, despite being held almost fully upright. Butcher takes her gently into his arms and cradles her. She turns toward his body but thankfully doesn’t wake up and start searching for milk. Homelander walks out of the bedroom with the pump still attached to him.

“Maybe you should take it off before you get in the shower,” Butcher mutters to himself under his breath, but Homelander hears him loud and clear, of course, even with the machine still on and says “Very funny” from the bathroom.

Butcher enjoys the rare opportunity to study this tiny creature snoozing in his arms, a creature he helped make. He leans down and inhales the scent of her head, her wispy dark hairs flying up when he does. He finally hears the pump being shut off and the shower running shortly after. Lena stays asleep, eyes sometimes moving underneath her thin eyelids, long eyelashes twitching slightly. She’s unbearably cute. Holding her, Butcher admits he can understand why her other parent doesn’t seem to want to let go of her for even a minute. He never would have imagined he’d feel like that about anything, let alone a newborn, but there’s some kind of biological or psychological program that’s kicked into gear in his brain once he finally saw her in the flesh. Somewhere in his deep memory he also recalls what it was like to see Lenny for the first time, and feel an overwhelming immediate sense of love for someone so tiny.

As he watches her sleep, his mind starts to drift as well, as if the sleepiness is contagious. He’s in this hypnotized state, so he’s not sure how it happens exactly, but Lena wakes up pretty suddenly. She doesn’t cry, just opens her eyes and next thing Butcher feels is her tiny fist finding and wrapping around the pinky of the hand he’s laid on top of her. Butcher immediately realizes his dire circumstances when he feels powerful force squeezing his finger and bone starting to crack. He stays stoically silent, looking down at her open eyes. They’re huge—sometimes it feels like they’re taking up half of her face— and a piercing blue. He’s heard babies’ eyes often darken as they grow, but as of now they’re the spitting image of Homelander’s. Maybe that’s why he feels just a tiny bit unsettled whenever she fixes them on him– some echo of their old antagonism still buried somewhere deep in his brain.

“Lena, love, let go of Daddy’s hand,” he says quietly through teeth clenching in pain, still smiling at her, already knowing talking like this is futile. He’s fairly sure he feels something fracturing and blinks back tears. She stares up at him, but doesn’t release her grip. He can’t even try to pry her hand off, with none of his hands free. The shower is turned off already, and loath as Butcher is to prove that he can’t watch Lena for fifteen minutes, he gets up and carefully makes his way to the bathroom.

“Can you help me out…” he says as he’s pushing the door open with an elbow and sees Homelander choke on something and press the back of his hand to his mouth. Although he’s at the sink, turned away from the door, Butcher can see in the mirror that he was sipping on one of the milk containers that he detached from his chest.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CAN YOU KNOCK?!” he explodes, apparently before he’s swallowed everything down because the first words come out with a gurgle.

“I actually couldn’t…” Butcher answers sheepishly, wincing because Lena’s grip tightened further around his already broken finger during the yelling.

Homelander looks over and sees the situation and his facial expression twists from anger to distress. He quickly approaches and pries her tiny fingers open, taking her into his own arms almost at the same time, cradling her close.

“She hurt you,” he says, frowning so dramatically that Butcher can’t help but feel amused at their predicament. A baby being able to mangle her father has some kind of dark humor to it.

“She’s fine. I was careless,” Butcher says, almost waving his injured hand dismissively before feeling a jolt of pain in his pinky at any movement.

“Your right hand. You need to go to the hospital,” Homelander laments, starting to sound panicked.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, alright? Leave it alone. I’ll take care of it later.”

Homelander looks unappeased by that, and it dawns on Butcher that he’s probably insecure about his child being perceived as a danger to normal people, the public. Perhaps to be locked away in a secure facility until all the powers are under control.

“Hey, I’m okay. I was just careless.” Butcher says, but he’s also starting to survey the scene he walked in on. Homelander’s standing naked, hair still wet, holding Lena in his arms who seems to recognize her feeder parent smell and is starting to root around his chest. Butcher sees the bottle of breast milk, almost drained. He doesn’t say anything, but Homelander seems to catch where his gaze went.

“I make enough for her! I’m not having anything that she needs!” he starts saying and Butcher doesn’t know where to start with this.

“Look, I don’t care what you do with it. You’re the one obsessed with not giving her formula. If you want to drink your own breast milk, I’m not going to be the one to stop you.”

Homelander chews on his lip, face crimson, and Butcher can’t believe that this is, of all the strange things this supe’s done, what he’s going to be mortified by.

“I’m not saying it’s normal, but you’re not harming anyone.”

“You don’t get it,” Homelander says, eyes fluttering when Lena finds his nipple and latches on but then he looks down at her and avoids eye contact with Butcher. “I obsess over it. I- I feel like I get turned on when she’s nursing. I even get a little turned on when I’m pumping. I’ve been wanting to drink it. I have real issues.”

Butcher rubs the bridge of his nose, remembering to use his left hand. “I mean, yeah, that sounds a bit sick, but it’s harmless I guess.”

“You never feel tempted to even just taste it?” Homelander asks. His tone is weird and desperate, as if he’s hoping to hear just a little bit of support for this freaky fixation.

“Can’t say I have,” Butcher says, but then adds. “I kind of like the way it smells. I’ll taste it if it makes you feel better.” He approaches and takes a small sip from the same bottle Homelander was drinking out of, smacking and trying to describe the taste like a connoisseur. “It’s really sweet. It’s not that bad. If I didn’t know what it was I might have though it was some kind of bland custard.”

Homelander watches him, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What?” Butcher asks. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re not revolted?” Homelander asks cautiously.

“I don’t know, after watching you be in labor for more than a day and then give the bloodiest birth I’ve ever heard of at home on a shower curtain I spread out on our bed? I think I’m beyond being revolted.”

When they move back to the bedroom, Butcher holds Lena while Homelander puts on fresh sweatpants. He’s rushing, as if every second Butcher is holding her is borrowed time.

“You can’t do everything yourself.” Butcher sighs. “It’s just a broken finger. I don’t even feel like going to the ER. They’ll just put it in a splint.”

“Fix your hand,” Homelander answers him brusquely. “I don’t want you walking around with an ugly crooked finger and have it be this ‘Story’ about how Lena broke your pinky.”

“And here I thought you cared about my well-being.” Butcher chuckles.

“Maybe that too,” Homelander says morosely, as he lies back and switches Lena over to his other nipple. His expression softens whenever she’s latched on. “If you’re not going to the ER, can you…bring the bottles from the bathroom…?”

Butcher shrugs and carries the two containers back into the bedroom.

“Can you…” Homelander’s voice gets really quiet. “Can you feed me with it.”

Now Butcher’s a bit disturbed. “Can I what now?”

“Just put the bottle top on it with the nipple and just hold it to my mouth.”

Butcher sighs, incredulous, but does as he’s asked. He watches Lena sucking languidly on Homelander’s nipple– she’s not hungry, she’s mostly doing it out of habit and for comfort. He watches Homelander slowly downing the remaining milk in one bottle and then the other.

“Yeah, this is a bit fucked, love, I have to tell you.”

Homelander licks his lips when he’s drained everything. Lena leans back at about the same time, and the synchrony is vaguely disturbing to Butcher.

“I know,” Homelander says, looking off into the distance and avoiding eye contact. “But it makes me happy.”

A/N: The oxytocin released by the brain upon the sensation of breastfeeding doesn't bring people to orgasm, but it can turn some people on quite a bit. Socially unacceptable biological phenomena, but honestly it makes a lot of evolutionary sense that you'd get rewarded for feeding your brood.

#butchlander #mpreg #cozy corner kinktober #I've missed so many days of kinktober!!! unacceptable #and this is what I bring you after the long absence lol pure id and self indulgence #the selfish gene #homelander #billy butcher #nursing #lactation #kind of messed up #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

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lemonmaid · 1 year

Text

I Want to be just like Him.

WARNING: Probably angst, angst, and cringe.

Y/N, MC, You = Yuu

Vil is eight and Yuu is four.

Yuu watched Vil on the every large commercial set, Yuu was starstruck. They watched their brother be a different person, like they magically changed into a different persona.

"LUNCH!"

Then that persona was flipped, Yuu saw Vill smirk as he skipped to their dad. "Dad, did you see me?"

Their dad was also an actor, went by the stage name 'Eric Venue', Their dad looked at Vill and smiled, "Yes I did little star!". Their dad twirled Vil around, Vil happily smiling for catching his dad's eye once again.

As their father and Vil bickered about the small script and 'boring', Yuu walked onto the set, memorized by the lights. Where their dad and Vil stood, the little four-year-old couldn't see them. It was like looking into a void.

"YUU, come on hun, get down from there!". Yuu rushed down and ran to their father, gripping their legs. "Sorry, dad". Yuu face flushed.

Their father petted their head, looking down at Vil, "Vil, why don't you get something from the buffet? Lunch will be over soon".

"Okay! But if they don't have anything I like I won't be eating!".

Yuu was in deep thought, "Yuu?".

They looked up to their father, a smile was laid across his face. "I know that look hun, what's on your mind?".

Yuu looked at their brother, who was smiling and chatting away with the other cast members. All of them looked at him with enchantment, like they wanted to be around Vil as long as possible.

"I want to be like big brother".

☆

Their father was able to pull some strings and get Yuu in the same beauty pageant as Vil. The show was in a few days and Vil was trying to 'coach them'. Their dad was always busy, so he trusted Vil to be a good big brother and help little Yuu out.

"NO YUU, not like that". Yuu had been stopped for the millionth time. "Yuu, you aren't supposed to walk like that! It will cost you to lose points. But we know that you aren't going to win because I am winning but we still need to make sure that you'll be right behind me". Yuu knew that they would never be exactly like their brother, but they wanted to be right beside him. They didn't want to stay home by themselves with a nanny anymore while their brother and father got to go out and see the world and be a family.

"Now, let's try again!" Yuu tried again, and again. Anything for their brother.

Pageant day came faster than little Yuu realized, the next thing they knew they were in deep, dark, purple, sparkly clothing. Behind the curtain, Yuu and Vill stood tall, their was chatter between all the contestants, some of them where giving Yuu and Vil glares while other were enchanted by Vil.

"Now Yuu, don't be discouraged when you lose points, keep your head high, and what do you remember?"

"Be number two, because Vil is one! And smile for the camera!". Yuu felt happy, they were smiling. They were finally going to be on stage with their brother.

Vill smiled brightly, "Good!".

Vil walked out stage first, and they wowed the crowd with his confidence. Yuu saw that different person again. The ego Vil played, it was truly memorizing. Their father was out in the crowd somewhere, probably talking to another producer or manager, a new gig or promo. But Yuu knew that their father was always looking, always giving his attention towards Vil.

Vil came back to the curtain and 'turn off' the persona and smiled at Yuu, "Come! Come! You're next!". Vil rushed Yuu onto the walkway, as Yuu was pushed onto the stage; the similar blinding light they saw on that set, the endless void was scaring them this time.

Yuu was stumbling as they walked, they looked at the crowds with nervous eyes, when they heard a camera flash their muscle memory kicked and look into the camera and gave a smile.

'The sooner I get off the stage, the sooner I can see big brother'!

As Yuu skipped toward the end of the stage, they stood beside Vil. "Did you see me? Big brother, did you see me?!". Vil looked down at them and sighed, "Yes, I did. You did great".

Soon the two were joined by the other competitors on the stage, in a single line. They stood by each other, as the names were listed.

"Finally, for the moment these young contents have been waited for, this year's 20XX pageant award goes to- "

Yuu noticed that Vil took a small step forward with a smile on his face, it was a different smile.

"YUU SCHOENHEIT!"

All Yuu heard was ringing, the crowd was clapping, there were cameras flashing, and apparently, a crown was placed on their head. Yuu looked behind them and Vil was staring at the floor, his fist closed and shaking.

After everything calmed down, everyone left, Yuu sulking walked toward their father and Vil. Vil had their arms closed, kicking their feet as they listen to their father and talked about Yuu to a manager.

"There's my little winner!", Yuu was picked up by their father and twirled around. Yuu just looked at Vil, it felt awkward. Yuu didn't feel happy, they felt excited that they did so well and did what their brother told them to do but they felt unhappy at the same time.

As the three walked to the car, Yuu stopped and looked at Vil. "Hey Vil......did you see me? Did I do okay?".

Vill stopped and turned around, with a disgusted looked, "Yeah. I saw you". Those words felt like poison, it gave them a shutter. Their face dropped and they felt sick.

☆

After that Yuu turned down every opportunity to be in the spotlight, they felt like they had ruined and hurt Vil and they never wanted to do that again, they didn't want to make their big brother angry. They felt like they didn't deserve it.

All they wanted was to be like them. To be seen.

Sorry this was kinda bad, the old was was accidentally deleted as I was writing so I had to re write the entire thing and try to get over writers block.

I hoped some of yall enjoyed! Please follow and like!

Authors Note:

Um I thought I posted this months ago. Sorry if it's kinda typical this was the first story that I wrote and didn't post apparently? Anyways I could make a part two if it does well! Thank you guys again

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst vil #vil schoenheit #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu

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ladyviolethummingbird · 1 year

Text

The Gloaming

An Outlander/Jane Eyre crossover fic

Read chapter 1 here

Chapter 2: Over the sea to Shetland

A Highlander born and bred, Jamie was never particularly comfortable on the water. Unfortunately, the only way to Shetland was sailing from Aberdeen — a journey of some four days. The late-winter sea was choppy and he spent much of the trip heaving his guts over the port bow. At length, they finally docked in Lerwick, the island’s main town, and a wobbly-legged Jamie staggered ashore.

According to the instructions received from Mr Abernathy, Wolverton Hall was ten miles from the township. Having used the last of his money to pay for passage to the island, Jamie had no option but to take the journey on foot. Forlornly he watched the coach depart from the dock, a rolling mist already descending as he started along the lonely track towards his new home.

The weak afternoon sun soon gave way to the shimmering of dusk. With a small smile, Jamie recalled his father telling him about the special time of day.

“It’s called the gloaming, mo mhac. When the sun has set but the ink of night has yet to descend; that’s when the faeries come out”

In his decade at the workhouse, Jamie hadn’t the chance to sit down and appreciate the changing colours of the night sky, much less see any faeries, but it warmed his heart to remember his Da. Distracted in his reminiscing, Jamie looked up to realise that at some point he’d left the track and was now walking through ever thickening woodland. Doubling back, he tried to retrace his steps but was soon hopelessly lost.

From the dark canopy of leaves above, an owl hooted. With just enough light to see his breath forming a cloud, Jamie shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Beginning to walk in what he hoped was the right direction he failed to notice a moss-covered log across his path. Right foot catching the wood he tripped and lurched forwards, soon tumbling head over heels down an embankment, coming to rest in a dried creek bed. Dirt covered his front and blood trickled down his cheek. The pain in his shoulder was searing, so much so that he couldn’t even remove his coat to properly assess the damage. After half a week when any food he’d eaten had come straight back up, Jamie was already in a weakened state. His tumble robbed him of what strength he had left and groaning in pain, he began to lose consciousness. As darkness closed in, he felt fingertips draw gently across his forehead, the scent of rosemary filling his nose. Trying to speak only produced a croak and whomever had found him shushed him into silence.

The next few hours were a blur. Rolled onto a woollen cloak, Jamie was dragged through the forest to a crumbling stone building; an old crofter’s cottage perhaps? A fire crackled in the hearth as a dampened cloth was pressed to his forehead. Jamie wondered if he was dying - freezing to death on the cold, muddy ground as his mind conjured up images of him being tended to in his hour of need. A voice - soft and feminine - cut through the fog.

“Hold still, this will only hurt a moment”

A pair of strong hands gripping his shoulder, Jamie started to cry out in protest. Unperturbed, the stranger continued, deftly manipulating the joint and popping it back into place. Confused that his pain had suddenly vanished, Jamie forced open heavy lids to identify his saviour. Golden eyes stared back at him.

“Are ye a faerie?”

The stranger laughed, a warm, lyrical sound.

“No. You need to rest now, soldier”

She pressed a cup of liquid to his lips, making Jamie feel fuzzy as the pain in the rest of his body began to melt away. He tried to focus on her cloud of deep brown curls but it was no use, seconds later the pull of slumber dragged him under.

Awaking the next morning to a smouldering fire, there was no sign of the mysterious woman. The arm of Jamie’s damaged shoulder had been put in a sling and pressed into his closed palm were several worn pennies. The whole event had been so utterly bizarre; who was the Good Samaritan and why had she helped him?

Leaving the dwelling, Jamie saw he was only steps away from the coach track he’d lost his way from the night before. With funds now to complete his journey, he gave silent thanks to the stranger and awaited the next passing coach to continue to Wolverton Hall. Focussed as he was on his new job, the young Scot couldn’t stop his mind reaching back to dwell on the beautiful angel who had rescued him. Would he ever see her again?

#outlander #outlander fanfic #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #thanks for reading #ol fan fic #ol ff #jane eyre #the gloaming

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aegontaargaryens · 2 years

Text

the fear of him || aemond targaryen

summary: your father's transgressions against the greens had finally come back around. nothing would satisfy them, not a bent knee, nor the offer of gold and silk. a captive in the form of your father's youngest daughter, you, was the only option. unfortunately, an unwanted betrothal to a horrifying man came along with it.

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader

note: this is the first fic i've written in years, so i hope you all enjoy it!! i tried to capture how aemond is described in the books as well as i could, and im willing to do a part 2 if there is interest! thank you to the lovely anon who requested, happy reading!!

word count: 2.6k

This was never how things were meant to go.

Not the betrothal, no. You knew how things went; you knew that one day your father’s name would be signed on the dotted line of a betrothal contract with your name spelled in plain, black ink. You knew your duty; represent your family name with honour, with dignity, produce a squabble of healthy children for your future husband all while remaining in the background, a ghost in the shadows.

The inevitable didn’t break your heart anymore, you had been trained to accept it, coached, and taught how to be a dutiful wife, the Lady of a keep that was overlooked by what you hoped to be, a docile and kind man. No one expected a loving marriage, not at first of course. Perhaps love would come about in time.

But Aemond Targaryen would never feel your love. Just like he would never feel or see your fear.

Your father’s first mistake was declaring for the Black’s when his lands were so close to the Crownlands. His second mistake was refusing to bend the knee when King Aegon Targaryen, the second of his name, arrived on the back of Sunfyre. It didn’t take much destruction before your father was declaring his fealty to King Aegon II, begging for forgiveness for his transgressions.

“Your bent knee is not to my satisfaction, my Lord. You participated in acts of treason, claimed to many that I was not the heir to the Iron Throne. Acts that many would see you dead for, my Lord.”

Your body shook at the words falling from his lips, the tears threatening to spill, your eyes closed as your father ducked his head in shame at the King’s words. Everyone in the hall knew what was coming, knew your father’s body would soon mark a mass grave, and your brother would take over as Lord.

“But I pride myself on being a merciful King to my subjects. I cannot rule over a land of empty castles and dead families. Your taxes will be raised, significantly. Your lands spread out to other Lords. Your youngest son will be called back from the Riverlands and will join us in Kings Landing as a ward.”

The Kings eyes surveyed the room as he spoke, the roar above your home shaking the very foundation and walls as you felt your body shake with it. It was mere moments before the doors of the hall slammed open, your head automatically turning to the source.

Aemond Targaryen strode into the room. A cocky smirk on his lips as he observed the sight in front of him, his dragon’s roars heard throughout the entire hall.

“And, as a sign of peace from your family… your eldest daughter shall marry my brother, for once the marriage is sealed, any act of defiance will be an act of defiance against your kin, and the kin of your kin. I, King Aegon, the second of my name, decree it as such.”

Eyes widening in horror, your father went to object and was swiftly denied, the look on the King’s face a case for no objection. You could barely breath as Aemond the Kinslayer passed by your family, joining his brother in front of all of you. A glare was observed between brothers, perhaps a sign that this marriage was not desired by him either, but no choice was given. The King had decreed it as such.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two moons since you had left your home, since the Red Keep had become your home. Since you had been placed in the dragon’s den, alone, with no confidante and no support system. Your family remained in their keep, informed that they would not be able to attend the wedding of their only daughter.

The wedding was impending, just mere nights away. Your relationship with your future husband was… rocky, to say the least. Aemond had made it clear this was not a marriage of desire, nor a marriage of want. It was a marriage of convenience and duty. He had made that clear when he paraded his paramour, Alys, wherever you could see them.

The roars of the dragons still frightened you at night, the roars of Vhagar shaking you to the core every time, knowing full well she and her rider would willingly take you down in just one bite at any moment.

“Enjoying the flowers, are you?”

Whipping your body to the sound of the voice, Aemond strode into the gardens, your guard stepping back as to allow him into your personal space.

You simply nodded your head in return, the words lost on your tongue as you turned back to the colourful objects in front of you. The grip you felt on your arm had a small cry dropping from your lips as you were whipped back around, the prince’s one eye glaring into yours as his grip tightened on your arm.

“I asked you a question, my Lady. I would expect my future Lady wife, and a future Princess to respond when her husband asks her a question.”

You tried to keep the shake of your body to a minimum as you stared back. “My apologies, my Prince. The flowers are quite beautiful, I find comfort in the gardens.”

It seemed he was satisfied with your answer, as his grip on your arm loosened and he stepped back. Your legs felt like jelly, the impulse to allow them to cave and drop had you focusing solely on them, not wanting him to see the fear that now covered your body from head-to-toe.

“You would do well to remember that this marriage, the home you will make here, is not for your comfort. You are, by all accounts, a captive of my family. When we marry, you will be my wife, and my property. You will be mine; you will do what I see fit, and you will go where I see fit,”

Your head ducked as you nodded your head, the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes which you hoped to keep at bay until he chose to walk away. “I understand, my Prince. I am the price for my father’s mistakes. I hope to one day satisfy the payment for his transgressions.”

Huffing at your words, the Prince turned towards your guard, the man that was instructed to be with you at all times to make sure you were not committing acts of treason or defiance against the King or his family. “Take her back to her rooms. She is to stay there until the wedding, only the maids and servants will enter. If she defies you, you will find me and inform me of such.”

The anger and frustration were radiating through your body as he set his eyes back on you, a smirk prominent on his face. “My dear future wife, I would learn how to turn that frown into a smile by our wedding. No one likes an unhappy bride.”

His thumb reached out to trace your lips as you subconsciously leaned away, prompting a look of annoyance to flash across his eyes as he swiped his finger up your cheek, wrapping a finger around a lock of your hair that had fallen before he took his hand away.

“You truly are a sight when you smile, Lady Y/N. I look forward to hopefully seeing a lovely smile on your face within the next few days.”

With that, Aemond turned his back towards you and departed from the gardens, your guard nodding his head at you to direct you to follow him back to your rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, he’s quite infatuated with you, my Lady.” Queen Helaena had been nothing but kind to you since your arrival in the Red Keep. She had gone out of her way multiple times to come to your rooms, informing the guards that since she was the Queen, her word was above that of her brothers.

Not responding, you gave a slight nod of your head at her words. It wasn’t right to badmouth the Prince, especially when the Prince was also the Queen’s own brother.

“I know he is not a good man in your eyes, and I’m sure he is not your ideal choice. You’re away from your home, he has confined you to your rooms, will not allow you visitors. I know you don’t see it, but many people here are still angered by your Father’s choices. Aemond is just trying to protect you.”

“And his protection involves evoking fear in me every chance he gets? Terrifying me to the core in the hopes that what? I’ll submit and do as he chooses? I don’t have a choice!”

Neither of you were expecting the outburst that fell from your lips, a rosy colour instantly reaching up your neck to your cheeks as you bowed your head. “Forgive me, my Queen. That was uncalled for, and not my place.”

Shaking her head slightly, a small sigh fell from Helaena’s lips. “You speak truthfully, and honestly, my Lady. My brother will not harm you once you are married, that I am sure of.”

“Perhaps he will focus solely on Alys and I will be a forgotten thought.”

Tutting at your words, Helaena sent a bashful smile in your direction. “I believe it is time to get ready for the wedding, the servants and maids should be here soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The sharing of blood, the fire that encircled the two of you, the words spoken in Valyrian, they were all foreign to you. You had attended plenty of weddings, weddings of those in the North, and those in the South. You had never attended a wedding based around Valyrian customs, had never seen the ways in which Targaryen’s and Velaryon’s would wed.

The ceremony had ended before you could even comprehend what had just occurred. Your arm was wrapped loosely through Aemond’s as he guided you throughout the room, stopping and conversing with all the Lord’s and Lady’s in attendance. You knew your body was shaking, your nerves on high the longer and longer you spent with your husband.

You knew he could sense it, could even feel the way your body shook against his as he guided you throughout the room. “My dear wife, if you continue to shake like this, people will begin to suspect you’re ill… or that you fear your husband. You don’t want rumours to spread throughout the kingdom, now do you?”

His words were whispered gently against your ear, the small pinch to your waist a signal that you ought to listen or there would likely be consequences, consequences that you had no interest in finding out about.

“My apologies, my Prince. My body and mind have been through a lot today, I believe I am simply nervous for what is to come.”

Quirking an eyebrow at your words, a small chuckle dropped from the man’s lips. “The bedding? Or our marriage? I am quite adept at pleasuring a woman, so no need to fret over that. Our marriage? I can’t say I have much experience, so I believe we’re both learning.”

A shiver ran through your body at his words, his arm tightening against yours at the reaction. Pulling you off to the shadows, Aemond leaned down into your space, his good eye staring directly into yours, his lips just a wisp away from your own. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, his violet eye moving over your face.

“It was a joke, Princess. You will need to learn to be around me without shaking in fear. If you continue to do so, I will give you a reason to fear me. I will not have the realm thinking I beat my lady wife, and you would do well to remember I have never struck you, nor have I caused you any physical harm. This marriage is a marriage of convenience and a marriage of need. It does not mean it must be a marriage of hatred. You are intelligent to fear me, Princess Y/N. Learn how to hide it.”

You didn’t have time to respond, as the room begin to erupt in cheers, the sound of the words you were dreading the most going throughout the room.

It was time for the bedding.

Barely having time to think, you were pulled from Aemond and he from you as you felt yourself being tugged and pulled along the hallways. Articles of clothing were pulled off the closer and closer you got to yours and Aemond’s newly shared chambers.

You were shoved into the room, your smallclothes covering what was left of your modesty as the door slammed behind you. A deep breath fell from your lungs as you slowly turned your body around, your eyes connecting with Aemond. His breeches were all that remained on him, a goblet of Dornish wine in his hand as he observed you.

“You did look quite lovely tonight, Princess. Your dress was very beautiful, and the colours truly highlighted your features,” Aemond held a second goblet out to you, a small look of desire evident in his eyes.

Slowly making your way towards him, you accepted the offered goblet in his hand and gently placed it to your lips, the Dornish red eliciting a small moan to fall from your lips.

“I prefer Dornish reds myself. They are sourer, but much stronger. I find they heighten all pleasure. A perfect addition for the remainder of our night, wife.”

You had almost forgotten about what was to come, what was likely to happen in the coming minutes. The nerves came back almost immediately, the fear of the man in front of you making your hands shake and your body stress.

Aemond’s goblet was placed on the table at your reaction, a sigh and a roll of his eyes the only response. He sauntered towards you, your own goblet being removed from your hand and placed on the table. His left hand gently ran up your arm to your neck, his thumb gently digging into your pulse before his hand continued its way up, finalizing its place against your cheek.

You couldn’t help but subconsciously lean into his hand. You were terrified of him, but you had received no comfort, no physical contact since you arrived in Kings Landing. No one had gone out of their way to touch you, to hug you as your mother used to, or to press a kiss to your forehead as your father used to.

His touch was… kind, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as his other hand moved to tip your head up to look into his eye.

“I’m going to kiss you now, wife. I shall ask you to try and not fear me tonight, for this will be a lot easier… for both of us if you can simply try, for one night.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, his plump lips pressed lightly against yours, his hand moving into your hair as he pulled you against him. You didn’t know what to do, your hands stayed limp at your sides as you internally panicked. Aemond didn’t give you the chance to react, his free hand pulling your body flush against his, your eyes falling closed as you gripped onto him for balance.

It didn’t take long for your lips to move in sync with his, the small smirk prominent against your lips when he realized you were reciprocating. Your shaking had stopped, your body hyper focused on what the Prince’s actions were currently doing to you. The fear was, for the moment, a thought that had fallen into the back of your head.

It was a start.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fic #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #aemond one eye fic #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fic #fic #imagine #my writing #targaryens #game of thrones

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