#(but '... are you a mind reader?' 'sometimes. a bit.' still has me shaking and crying)

[4giorno]

on day 5 artemy and daniil go to the bar at noon and talk at each other like this

[enhard]

enhypen’s kinks <3 (MDNI)

CW: enhypen ot6 x fem!reader (separately), unprotected sex, breeding, bondage, usage of wax, spanking, lots of dacryphilia 😵‍💫, rough sex/soft sex, body worship, blindfolding, praising/degrading, hair pulling, usage of toys, usage of petnames, squirting, sub!sunoo (lmk if i missed anything), everything is consensual

disclaimer: i am not ot6, i do not write smut with riki

wc: 2.6k words ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⠀ 𓂃۶ৎ members under the cut, enjoy!

이 희승 - Heeseung - wax play, bondage, breeding

There’s a reason why Heeseung always keeps rope in his nightstand. When he considers you’re acting too bratty for your own good, he just ties you up completely to the bed, looking at you while smiling. You can barely move now, but there’s nothing you love more than him seeing you so submissive like this. With your legs tied constantly open for him and your hands above your head he can’t handle not examining your pretty body every time this happens. One thing you both love doing is getting some safe candle wax you can use while you’re tied up. You’re laying so helpless there under him, you can do nothing but just wait for him to untie you if anything. He’d tie those ropes so tight around your body until they left red marks on you.

He melts the wax onto your skin, starting with your chest then moving down to your stomach, the hot wax dripping in coins on your sensitive skin. You hiss a bit from the sensation, trying to stay as still as you can. The wax prolongs your body until it finally cools off. Too bad that until the wax he poured cools, he pours some more onto your nipple. That one really makes you jump and seeing you like that just makes him wanna continue even more. This goes on for so long, until you’re covered in hardened wax that he can just take off, so he has a clean canvas again.

“You look so pretty covered in this stuff, princess” he smiles. You slightly nod while looking into his eyes. “Keep going then, cover me in wax then cover me in your cum, won’t you?” Your words went to his pants rather than his ears, getting this burning determination to do exactly that.

When you’re covered in hot wax again and again, he finally puts it down to break your insides. He thrusts into you while grabbing onto your wax covered tits, the wax popping off from him grabbing so violently. He’d pound into you while you make out with him, trying so hard not to make much noise. He’d end up using you just like a toy, while you’re laying still with no way to move, he’d cum on you over and over, his first orgasm would be inside you, as he prefers filling you up rather than anything else. His greatest desire is breeding you multiple times, absolutely filling your pussy full just to make sure you know who owns it.

As his cum oozes out of you, he would push it back in with the tip of his cock, thrusting into you again, cum getting all over his dick and balls. You completely lose your mind at this point, having shaking orgasms every few minutes or so. After that, he ends up getting 2 more cumshots on you, his milky cum leaking all over your upper body.

“Fucking hell Heeseung, you’re damn good at this.” You pant. “Oh, am I? … Wanna do it again?” he says while grabbing your face.

박 제이 - Jay - rough sex, dacryphilia, spanking

Spanking must be one of Jay’s favorite things to do to you. He goes crazy when he got you lying down on his lap while he gets to slap your ass over and over again until it turns bright red. The way your skin jiggles under his palm is a sight he never forgets, focusing on your wet pussy shaking with each slap. Sometimes he’d stay there for a long time fondling your cheeks, or your favorite part, paying more attention to your pussy that’s waiting for some love too.

Not only that, but when he gets the occasion to fuck you rough, he can’t bring himself to stop. He’d have no mercy for your hole, even if you’re whining and crying. Beg for more, you get more. He loves pinning you down, loves showing his dominance over you. There’s just something about grabbing your wrists with one hand and keeping them above your head while he fucks you. He forces you to have eye contact with him, if you take your eyes away he will stop and turn you around to spank you over and over.

He loves seeing you cry from being overstimulated. Those tears rolling down your cheeks to your chin just make his head spin. “You look so fucking hot crying like that, love” he says, grabbing your chin with his hand.

“Please…slower I can’t take… it..” you cry out. He shushes you, continuing to fuck you just as hard. You really start sobbing, trying your best to look at him through it all. You love when you have softer sex together, when he kisses your body, cuddles you while giving you slow strokes.. but you also love this part of him so much. He’s so attractive on top of you doing all this, being so rough with you and instead of slow kisses, he shoves his tongue in your mouth like you’ll never kiss again.

“Crying cause you want more, hm? I’ll give you more sweetheart. You’re the cutest.” he says softly suddenly.

You can only hum, while your lips get pouty for him.

When he’s close to cumming he’d stop himself just to make you finish first. It really doesn’t take long until you’re a mess under him. After he’s satisfied with your pleads, he’ll pull out and cum all over your stomach, while your eyes are red and wet from your tears.

심 제이크 - Jake - praising, soft sex, body worship

Jake just cannot take his eyes off you. He considers you the most perfect person in this world, not only personality wise, but also when you’re under him with your legs spread, your body glistening under the moonlight. He loves your body like nobody else could.

He’d come up behind you when you’re dressing up just to grab your waist and kiss your shoulder. “Sweet girl, you look stunning today.” Normally you would just awkwardly smile at him but now you felt like he needed a better reaction. Give him exactly what he loves.

He slowly raises your legs up to have better access to thrust into you. He starts off slow for you, letting you adjust. He presses his hand down on your lower stomach letting you feel him even better inside you. He slightly moans feeling your dripping pussy around him, resisting the urge to let out even louder noises.

“Oh…you’re perfect... princess.” He picks his pace up a bit, still trying his best to make you feel good. You tilt your head while furrowing your eyebrows, while wrapping your legs around his neck getting so desperate now. “Please... fuck me harder jake. You’re thrusting into… me so... good…” you whine. He coos, keeping the pace he’s at while whispering praises at you.

“Such a good girl, you’re taking me so well” as his fat cock plunges in and out of you, driving you insane with each thrust. He succeeds in making you lose your mind with some vanilla sex. You can’t say this isn’t reassuring to you. He loves moments like these where he gets to fuck you in cute ways, no crazy stuff overall, just lots and lots of praising and appreciation for your body.

“Oh my— I’m gonna cum soon... please.” You say desperately. He’s happy to help, but one thing about jake no matter what is that he loves to tease you, he’ll keep you on the edge for a while, calling you all sorts of names. “Come on princess, you can do this” he says, while denying your orgasm a fourth time. When he finally lets you cum, he can’t stop smiling. You squirting all over him while leaving out the lewdest sounds is something he always hoped for. He turns feral when he gets close to his release, then he’s ready to pull his condom off his dick just to cum inside you, what a waste that was, right?

박 성훈 - Sunghoon - rough sex, degradation, blindfolding

The first time you and Sunghoon tried blindfolding it really stuck with him. The way he had so much trust in you to let you blindfold him and make him feel amazing. He loves degrading you, calling you the nastiest names he can come up with, though he loves getting degraded too. He also loves pinning you down and fucking you up while you can do nothing but leave sounds, dragging his cock in and out of you so rough it’ll make you grab the sheets with all your strength. This time was different though.

He’d lay down, hands tied above his head while the black laced blindfold was tied tightly around his eyes. While on top of him, you gently grab the base of his cock, slightly jerking it. You throw your head forward to spit on it, fisting his dick harder now. His full lips parted due to the pleasure, grasping his hands together tighter.

“Fucking bitch.” He groans, buckling his hips into your hand trying to get more. Your stomach twists in all ways to his words, making you stroke him harder and harder. He leans his head back, licking his lips at the sensation.

You start getting rougher with your strokes, even handling his balls with your other hand, squeezing and massaging them to the best of your ability. “How’s this love? Feel good?” you smile. He slightly nods, his hair bouncing a bit with his head movements. “Feels amazing...you’re such a slut... fuck...” he moans out. You stop stroking him to squeeze his tip a few times, whole shots of precum lingering down his length. You rub your index finger against the slit, his most sensitive part, the precum following your finger every time you pull away. His moans get so much louder, not being able to handle it anymore. You continue rubbing him until he cums, letting out so much at once from refraining himself to cum a few times. He cums all over your hand while his mouth makes the sweetest sounds. You wanted to edge him a little bit but seems like he couldn’t stop thrusting up into your hand, therefore he came too early for your liking. You pull away from his balls, grabbing onto the base of his hardened dick again keeping it in place, while slapping it with your other hand multiple times. He jumps a few times from your sudden action, but he doesn’t want you to stop either. He lets out “ah” ‘s every time you hit his cock, the pain making him want to cry.

“Did I tell you to cum? Smack. Did I give you permission... hm? Smack. You think you can do what you want? You can’t cum until I let you. Smack.”

He starts whining, something you’ve never seen him do before. His voice cracks with each smack, his tip getting redder than it usually is.

This would continue for hours, and when you both finally finished, while taking his blindfold off you noticed he started crying during it. Seeing him like that was so hot, and you both repeated it again when you got the chance.

김 선우 - Sunoo - hair pulling, being submissive, blowjobs

Sunoo can dominate you anytime you want, but one thing he loves is being submissive all for you. You also enjoy making him feel good, enforcing some rules for him to follow.

You haven’t done this in a while therefore you missed it. This time you just made him lay down on your bed, while taking his dick in your hand. You give him slow strokes while looking up to see his reaction. He slightly moans, grabbing your wrist but you smack his hand away. “No touching love, be a good boy and stay still.” He sighs, letting you do what you want.

You spit on his cock multiple times, really coating it and leaning in to take it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him all off even better while he starts moaning. You can never go wrong with a sloppy blowjob; another thing that makes him go crazy. He lets you suck him off to your own pace, but he can’t resist not grabbing your hair during so.

Now on his third orgasm, he’s too overstimulated to talk. He starts begging for you stop but little does he know you’re not stopping until he cums a fourth time. He pulls even harder on your hair, the pain making it hard for you to continue, but you can feel him get closer, therefore you’re not stopping.. no matter how much you’re gagging on him right now. “Please…I can’t... p... pull away” he whines. You start humming, disagreeing with his statement. You succeed in making him finish again, he doesn’t cum as much as the first time but it’s all down your throat now. You finally pull away, panting to catch your breath again. His dick starts twitching, still whining while letting go of your hair.

“You’re so cute when you’re submissive” you smile at him. He gets a little red, grabbing your cheek to look at you clearly. “I love you...” he closes his eyes to rest a bit.

From then on you did it way more often than you could imagine.

양 정원 - Jungwon - toys, squirting, humiliation

One thing Jungwon loves is using a vibrator on you. He would stick it on your clit while fingering you with his other hand, seeing you fall apart on him. He would keep going until you ended up squirting all over him. You would both do this in the comfort of your own home, but he could only dream of putting a small vibrator in your panties before going out just to tease you the whole night.

He chose to rub it up and down on the highest setting while you struggled to talk, grabbing onto his bicep to make him slow down. He’s obviously stronger than you, so your attempt to fight back doesn’t even phase him. “Such a stupid whore, you think you can just get me to stop, huh?” he says. You plead him to stop, whining and crying while your thighs are shaking. He stops at your clit again, keeping it there putting more pressure as time goes on. “Please jungwon...slow i…it down I can’t..”

He slaps your mouth, continuing to keep that vibrator on you. “Stop complaining or I might tape your mouth.”

On your second orgasm, you crack. You can’t do it anymore, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop. You grab onto the sheets, closing your eyes tight. “Why are you so whiny when you wanted this? Sit still, should I tie you up instead?” he slaps your thigh. You shake your head “sorry…so...sorr-“ but your words get cut off by a moan, when Jungwon begins thrusting into you again, pulling out beforehand after your first orgasm. He loves destroying you like this, and despite your reactions you love it too. He wants to make you cum as many times he can.

He can’t stop degrading and humiliating you while doing so too, to call you so many names and get mad at you when you act in a way he doesn’t like. He knows how to make you feel so good, a bit too good. When he gets you like this you know it’s gonna be a longgg night.

He finally pulls out and turns the vibrator off when you squirt on him a third time. Even though he acted like this with you the whole time, he never fails to give you the best aftercare you’ve got.

[chahnniesroom]

to love and to cherish

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: chan comforts you when you have a bad day and are struggling with insecurity.

word count: 1.6k

tags/warnings: sad, hurt/comfort, reader is depressed

a/n: this fic was inspired by this reel and this reel. portions of the dialogue were taken directly from them. i actually had a super cute lee know fic planned for this title in the collection, but never got around to writing it so here you go instead 😅 this is the last fic for this collection, thank you to everyone who has read it!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has resigned himself to a life that's the opposite of routine. Between comebacks, promotions, and tours, there's always something new to juggle. 

He wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes he craves an ordinary life.

That's one of the things he loves about you. How he can come home and get lost in the simplicity of cooking dinner, going grocery shopping, or folding laundry together. One of his favourite things is being able to spend a quiet night in with you.

As a regular office worker, your schedule is more predictable. You leave at the same time every morning and although you often have to work overtime, it’s a manageable amount.  

In the beginning of your relationship, Chan often felt guilty about how chaotic his life was in comparison to yours and always felt that that it made him seem unreliable. It’s still something he worries about from time to time, but after a couple of years, the two of you have learned how to balance it all.

—

Chan knows something is wrong when he gets home and all the lights are off. He can tell  that you’re home because he can see your shoes neatly lined up by the door and your work bag is hanging off one of the kitchen chairs.

He carefully takes his shoes off and makes his way further into the apartment, trying to stay quiet in case you’re sleeping. He feels his heart clench when he finds you awake instead, curled up in bed with tears running down your face. Even though you haven’t seen him yet, he can tell that you’re suppressing your cries, trying not to make a sound.

“Baby,” he says gently, kneeling on the floor beside you to get your attention without spooking you. “What's wrong?”

“Channie?” you look up at him with a sniffle. “How come you're home?”

“Nothing important, just tell me, what's got you so upset?”

You shake your head instead of responding, burrowing further into the makeshift nest that you’ve created by piling all the pillows and blankets into one side of the bed. Just the very top of your head is visible and even though he's concerned about how you're acting, Chan can’t help but think of how adorable you are. He extends a hand out and, when you don’t pull away, strokes through the bit of hair that’s still exposed.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” he asks.

“Mmm, no it was okay.” Your voice is faint, muffled by the blankets and hoarse from crying. Chan tries not to think of how long you must have been like this for your throat to be in such bad condition.

“Did you get any bad news? Is your family okay? DId something happen to one of your friends?”

The longer you stay silent, the more scared that Chan gets. He doesn't want to overwhelm you so he feels bad that he's practically bombarding you with questions. It's just that his mind is racing, thinking of every terrible thing that could have happened between when he had kissed you on your forehead as a goodbye this morning to now.

“Did I-” Chan asks tentatively. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

That’s what finally gets you to reply.

“I'm just having a bad day,” you say softly.

 “Is there anything I can do to help?” Chan asks, immediately in problem-solving mode. “Did you eat yet? I can make us something and we can watch a movie or-”

You interrupt the beginnings of Chan’s rambling by reaching out and wrapping a hand around Chan’s wrist, tugging him towards where you’re lying.

“Just stay with me.”

Chan is quick to obey. He strips off his hoodie and pants before settling in beside where you're curled up. When you rearrange the blankets and shift to lean against Chan, he gathers you into his arms and tucks your head under his chin. 

Neither of you say anything for a while. Chan focuses on controlling this breathing and is relieved when you slowly match him.

Chan can tell that you need a bit more time to calm down and he knows that you'll talk when you're ready, if you want to talk at all. He feels a pang of regret for not realising earlier that you were struggling so much today.

“I'm sorry that I'm depressed,” you say all of a sudden.

“Why are you apologising?” Chan asks, genuinely confused. “You have nothing to apologise for, it's not like you chose to be depressed.”

“I just- Don't you ever wish that I was more normal?”

“What?”

“I mean, you could easily find someone else to date, someone better-”

“I'm going to have to stop you there,” Chan says firmly. “Yes, I could find someone else to date, you could too. But I don’t want to, you’re the one that’s best for me, you’re the one I want to be with. I chose you.”

“Yeah, but you chose the old me, the happy version of me. I- I’m not good to date right now.”

“I chose you and I will continue to choose you. You’re still you even if you’re depressed. Depression doesn’t decrease your worth or make you any less lovable than when I first met you.”

“But it sucks that you have to take care of me like this, that you have to deal with all my bad days.”

“I don’t like it when you have a bad day either, but it’s not because I don’t want to take care of you. A part of any close relationship is taking care of each other and I would do even more if it would help your depression. I just wish there was something I could do to make it so that you never have a bad day again. And it’s not like I’m always looking after you, you take care of me all the time too,” Chan reminds you.

“But that’s different,” you mumble, turning to hide your face in Chan’s shoulder. 

“Is it?” Chan asks. Instead of trying to coax you into looking at him, he just wraps his arms around you tighter, rubbing slow circles onto your back. “You took on all the cooking and cleaning when I injured my wrist, even though the doctor said I could still do everyday tasks.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “You injured yourself and had to rest, otherwise you wouldn’t heal as quickly.”

“You help me when my insomnia is bad and I can’t sleep at night. I used to feel so bad because I knew that you would get scolded at work for showing up so tired after staying up with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” you say quickly. “I wanted to, you didn’t make me stay up.”

“Just like how I want to help you,” Chan reminds you. “I know what you’re going through is difficult and I want to do anything I can to make it easier for you.”

“But what if I’m like this forever?” you ask in a small voice. “What if I’m always sad?”

“Listen, just because this is how things are now, does not mean things will always be this way, okay? I know it can be hard to think that way, but I’ll always be here to remind you.”

"It just feels like I'm never going to get better."

"What does getting better mean to you?"

"Being back to what I was like in the past, when I was happier."

"I think if you look at it that way, you won't be satisfied. But I see you, I see your progress. You've been seeing a therapist, and I know they have helped you a lot. You've told me that the medications you've been taking have improved how and what you feel."

"I guess," you say reluctantly.

"I see that you're trying. You won't always be happy. That's natural. The important thing is that you'll learn that you can experience disappointment or misfortune, that bad things will happen, but you will still survive. I know that it's hard, but I'll be here alongside you."

“Can you promise me something?” you ask tentatively, peeking out to look at Chan.

“Anything,” he agrees immediately.

“If you ever get tired of all this, of me, promise that you’ll tell me. Promise me that you’ll leave. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this relationship.”

“As long as you do the same to me,” Chan says.

“What? I wouldn’t ever have to-” you start to object.

“And I don’t think I will either.”

“I’m sorry that you have to always reassure me,” you say quietly.

“I told you, I don’t mind-”

“I think this is the worst version of me,” you say all of a sudden. You hold your breath, as if you’re bracing for Chan’s reply. He doesn’t even have to think to respond.

“I feel safe with the worst version of you.”

You’re quiet for so long that Chan starts to worry that he didn’t say the right thing. He shouldn’t have made it sound like he agrees that this is the worst version of you, he should have reassured you more he-

“I feel safe with you too,” you finally reply and Chan knows that everything is going to be alright.

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

"Simon?"

Your voice wavers, rich with uncertainty, and he's around the corner into the kitchen before you can blink. "What is it?"

"I... do we still have the large blue mixing bowls?" Orion is between your legs, arms curled around each knee. He's been doing this since you got home, positioning himself so he's almost always touching you, a tether desperate to remain unbroken.

His nightmares are back, too. And yours are worse. Only Nix sleeps soundly, Simon hardly sleeps at all.

"I wanted to make muffins." He finds them in the top cabinet, and then shifts his attention to his boy who clings to you.

"Want to go outside for a bit Ry? Let mama make you some muffins for later?" Orion shakes his head, fingers tightening on your sweatpants. You give Simon a pained expression, and he crouches to be eye level with his son, knees cracking. "She'll be right here when you're done, little man, and I'm here, remember? We have to share." Share. It's the only concept he's managed to come up with that makes sense after Orion tearfully confessed he has to be able to see his mum in order to 'save' her.

So now they share the responsibility. Two men of the house. Two of Mama's protectors.

Simon doesn't know what else to do. He put him in therapy months ago, but his son is slow to trust now, fear and danger lurking around every corner in his mind.

"I'll push you on the swing. Want to get your jacket?" You pet his head soothingly.

"It's okay Ry. Go play for a little bit and when you're done you can have a muffin, how's that sound?" He shrugs, but finally unglues himself and toddles to the door to get his coat on.

Simon takes the opportunity to pull you into his chest. "She's due to get up soon," he murmurs, tracing your spine, "just yell and I'll-"

"I can- I'll get her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... I want to." You've been locked in a delicate dance with the baby. A slow, unsteady, hesitant dance. Sometimes, you hold her, you rock her, you change her. Sometimes, she's crying in her crib, and you're standing in the doorway of her room, frozen, eyes wide and wet. He catches you studying your body in the mirror when you think he's not looking, hand pressed to your belly, thumb stroking your scar.

"I can come back in." He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay. If I need you, I'll let you know."

You're tired by the time evening rolls around, and once the kids are down, he settles you beneath the covers beside him, enjoying the heat of your body, the way you fit to him. It doesn't take much to exhaust you, but the doctors assure it's normal, you're recovering well, you'll be okay.

It's a funny thing, to be told you'll be well, that you'll recover. He remembers it, how the words were so confusing when a war was raging in his mind, when he was being torn to pieces over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

"Do you think she knows who I am?" He does. The hospital encouraged as much skin to skin as possible, going as far as letting Nix live in your room for weeks just so she could sleep on your chest, and it soothed her like nothing else.

Those things don't matter. What matters is the reality of the situation, your losses. The loss of her first cry, her breath on this earth. The loss of watching her roll over for the first time, her first smile, her first giggle. All of these moments have been stolen from you, and there's no way to give them back, no matter how hard he tries.

"Yeah, mama. I think she knows." You lapse into silence, breaths slowing, limbs relaxing, and he thinks you might be asleep when you whisper into his skin.

"Does it ever go away?"

"No." He croaks. He can't lie, not to you. "No, it doesn't, but it does change. Eventually, it's not a wound, it's a layer. The pain becomes something else, but it never goes away." You sniffle, but don't respond.

It's the last thing he says to you before you fall asleep.

He wakes instinctively to an empty bed. Cold sweat immediately breaks out across his skin, stomach churning in a storm of panic.

Lightning rarely strikes twice, but that doesn't mean it couldn't. 

But before he can fully start calculating and preparing a plan, he hears your voice down the hall.

You're in Nix's room, in the rocking chair, baby tucked against your chest, cradled in your arms. You rub her back, twirl her hair, kiss her cheek, all while cooing into her ear, and when you catch his eye, he sees a well of emotion, love, longing, sadness. Grief. So much grief.

"Y'alright?" He whispers from the edge of the room, and you nod. It feels like a moment he shouldn't intrude on, a sacred, special thing not meant for him.

And that's good. 

"I'm okay." You reassure him, trying to imbue your words with strength. It's enough for him.

He takes one last look at his girls before he closes door.

And then he smiles.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟔]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, descriptions of blood and injury, panic attacks and anxiety

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first off, sorry for the late chapter ;-; but the next chapter sort of marks the start to the second half of the story, so i hope you guys look forward to that! some parts of this chapter are a bit intense so please heed the warnings! please let me know if you enjoyed! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗜𝗧'𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧

As you make slow progress toward recovery, Kinich can’t expel the image of you bleeding out from his mind.

The village doctor had rushed to your home, undeterred by the blanket of night falling over the land. The woman practically thinks of you as her own daughter, after all, with the amount of work you’ve done for her over the years. She stitches up your wound with a careful, practiced hand.

(Kinich stands at your side as it happens, your hand grasping his in a bone-crushing grip. He tries not to cry when you start to scream out in pain.)

She commits you to bed rest. You whine and argue against it. Kinich fights with you about it. You make up like you always do, but you stare longingly at the door every day when he leaves to work.

Time passes, and you do get better. He thanks the archons before he sleeps for that fact, truly.

But the guilt doesn’t cease. 

It prods at him in the dead of night, wrapping his stomach in knots as he tosses and turns. Even when he can hear your soft, even breathing across the room, a deep terror takes root in his chest. Nightmares lurk and haunt his rest, and sometimes, even when he wakes up, he has trouble believing that you’re still alive—it all feels too real when it’s in his head.

Even in reality, you’re decidedly…different. The weakness of your smile, of your hand in his—he can’t quite get used to it. It’s all part of your healing process, he knows that deep down, but he can’t shake the feeling that he had a role in all of this. 

On one night, the feeling of sin finally manages to gnaw through his chest.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His blankets are already strewn about the floor, likely from his erratic movements. His gaze slides over to you, still peacefully resting, and he sags with relief. The pain keeps you awake sometimes, so it’s a miracle that you’re sleeping soundly for once.

With that in mind, he eases himself out of bed quietly, tiptoeing past you and into the hallway. He heads for the bathroom—a splash of cold water over his weary face might be just what he needs. The moonlight filters lazily through the window, uneven slivers painted over the wall. He yawns, letting the door shut behind him.

The mirror sits above the sink. 

It’s one of the more expensive things you have in your house, but you’d gotten it for a good deal at the flea market—Kinich had bartered for what felt like hours. You’d gushed over the artistry of it, the glass intricately framed with braided knots of silver. Kinich hadn’t really understood back then—a mirror is just a mirror, after all—but he’s not keen on saying no to you. He never has been.

His reflection stares back at him, haunting in the gloom. 

When he looks at himself like this, he sees his mother. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, but he remembers her eyes, her hair. So much of him had been inherited from her.

Most days, he tries not to think about where she might be—he doesn’t see a point in asking questions he’ll never know the answer to. But he does wonder if she thinks of him, if even for a fleeting moment of her day. Then, he wonders if she remembers him at all.

(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)

His reflection frowns.

Locks of dark hair shine in the lowlight, the streak of blond distinct against the plain backdrop. The paleness of it, even when braided back, still reminds him of his father. A flash of a rage-filled glare strikes through his mind.

“Kinich—Kinich, help me, please!”

The voice—

He chokes.

Kinich stumbles back from the mirror, the sight of his own reflection suddenly horrifying him. No matter where he moves, he can’t seem to escape it, golden eyes—no, his father’s eyes—following as he staggers around the room. A ghost’s frigid fingers grip around his shoulders.

It was his fault.

The room suddenly shrinks inward. Something icy and unseen grabs at Kinich’s heart and yanks until a struggling gasp is ripped from his lungs. The vase on the windowsill tips and cracks against the wall, shards skittering across the floor and water splashing against the backs of his calves. It’s shockingly cold, shooting shivers up his back and fraying his nerves.

Someone is screaming. His mother.

“Kinich?”

A faint voice reaches his ears, but he ignores it in favor of the thoughts pounding around his skull. The memory of his father’s corpse hangs at the edges of his mind. He looks back to the mirror, fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

The blond streak is still there.

He sees his mother, begging and screaming, bruises littering her skin. Actually, she’s not screaming at all—he still can’t remember her voice. But she’s looking at him, grasping at his feet, and her lips are moving but he can’t hear—

“Kinich? Are you there?”

His hair—his father—seems to leap out at him, bursting from the mirror and grasping at his neck. The pressure leaves him scrambling to breathe. He thinks of the cliff, of his choice.

Echoes of footsteps pad down the hall, and he panics.

No, no. You’re going to see him, and you’re going to know what he’s done. You’re going to look at him with disgust and fear, and you’re going to leave. He hadn’t been enough back then, and he still isn’t now—no matter what he tries, nothing changes.

It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!

Another voice roars in his head, the hatred almost palpable with each syllable.

He clutches at his chest, desperately feeling for the heartbeat there—he feels like he’s dying, rotting from the inside out. His hand slams against the wall, nails digging painfully into the wood, clawing.

“Kinich?!”

Your voice comes again, more panicked now. You can probably hear the chaos from outside.

There’s no time.

He seizes the blond lock in his left hand, the right scooping up a ceramic shard from the floor and holding it to his head, right near the roots of the hair. He has to get rid of it—he’s panting, mouth dry and burning at the same time.

A firm knock on the door has him halting in his tracks—only a few strands of hair catch the sharp edge of the shard, floating uselessly to the ground. His chest heaves, uneven breaths puffing from his chapped lips.

He pauses. The shard clatters to the ground next to him, dropped from his grip. Slowly, he clambers to his feet. He brushes his clothes off once, then twice, before steeling himself to face you.

When the door swings open, it’s your face that greets him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. Hesitant, you reach for him—your shirt rides up with the movement, revealing starch-white bandages tinged with red. You’d irritated your wound in your panic to get to him.

He almost vomits at his feet.

He catches your hand before it reaches his cheek. He doesn’t deserve your comfort right now—maybe he never did. But your gaze is still so fond, so soft, as it falls upon his face.

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his. A faint frown paints your lips, wrought with worry. The thought is almost ridiculous—you both have only been worrying about each other all this time. “What’s going on?”

And Kinich knows he should tell you. He should do a lot of things when it comes to you. He should tell you he’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, that he knows he’s not good enough for you right now but he hopes to be, that he hopes you’ll wait for him to be that person. 

But he doesn’t say any of that.

Instead, he lets a deep, shuddering breath escape him. The only way to repay everything you’ve given him over the years is to be strong. If he can protect you, he can be useful to you.

So he takes the weakness sprouting in his chest and crushes it in his hands, letting the ashes go. He’ll bury them with this night—starting tomorrow, he won’t worry you again. 

Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, brushing over your pulse point. The steady drum of your heartbeat brings him some semblance of comfort, at least. The weight of your stare lifts from his shoulders when he meets your gaze head-on.

“I’m fine, just knocked something over,” he finally chokes out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

/

A few days later, the whispers of a rumor begin.

The sky is still reddened with dawn when he heads out, greatsword secured to his back. It’s newly-sharpened, courtesy of you. With your range of movement limited, you don’t leave the house much these days—you pass the time by cleaning and cooking, despite Kinich’s pleas for you to remain in bed. You’re antsy to do more, even while your healing progress slowly chugs along.

The outpost is already bustling by the time he shoves the door open, slinking inside. The place usually runs rampant with work, with people searching for deliveries or other odd jobs. They seek him out often, knowing how often he visits, and he welcomes the extra Mora. 

For some people, it’s a more social place—they enjoy a drink at the small bar between deliveries, chatting and laughing. There’s one such group already here, the clink of glasses audible even this early in the morning. Kinich’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the stench of alcohol.

On the back wall is the request board, a place for people to advertise any long-term jobs. Kinich favors these sometimes, on days where the weather is better, just so he can maximize the amount of Mora he takes home. When he makes his way over, there’s already another man scrutinizing the requests. Weathered papers dot the wall, some yellowed with age, some pristine white and newly-posted.

“Hey, kid,” the man greets. It takes Kinich a moment to realize it’s him he’s referring to—he offers a short nod in reply, a bit confused. Most people are familiar with him to an extent, but rarely do they try to interact.

He just starts to read another Saurian hunting job when the man speaks again.

“That earthquake a week ago…they found some ruins in the South. Rumor has it that it’s holding some kind of awesome treasure, and no one’s quite made it through yet.”

He gives Kinich a once-over, sweeping eyes reflecting a faint respect—his reputation precedes him, apparently. Kinich shifts his weight, arms crossed, a challenge. Seemingly pleased by his confidence, the man chuckles.

“I’ve heard you’re a strong one. If you’d like, we’d have you join our party.”

Kinich regards the man with his own criteria—he looks experienced, arms criss-crossed with scars as evidence of battles long won. But even Kinich himself is still young, so he knows years don’t equal strength.

“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, feigning boredom. “For all I know, I could head in there alone and not have to split the spoils.”

The man’s smile widens, practically splitting his face.

“I like your spunk, kid. How about this, if you make it all the way down there with us, I’ll even let you have first pick.”

Kinich ponders that for a moment—it’s not a bad deal. Though it’s not his preference, working in a group can make long-term investigations like this go much faster, and he suspects that he’ll be able to assess the value of whatever treasure they find better than anyone else. In short, he’ll be guaranteed the greatest share of Mora, without using all of his own personal effort. Objectively, it wouldn’t be his worst decision.

If he can make a good amount, he can buy one of those cakes you like from the market.

Your smile would be well worth it, he thinks as he shakes the other man’s hand.

/

The dangers of the ruins had not been overstated—even halfway through the place, Kinich finds himself matted with blood and grime, muscles aching with overuse. Already, many have turned back, and as many lives have been lost. Only a few remain, those desperate enough to see the task through to the end, resting in one of the safer areas before continuing deeper toward the treasure.

Kinich reaches back, testingly feeling the stone wall behind him—it’s damp, but stable, so he leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Even down here, flowers grow through the cracks in the stone, tenacious in their bloom. It reminds him of you.

He wonders if you’re resting well, if you’d stayed in bed like you promised. 

“You got a girlfriend back home?”

He flinches at the sudden address, and he turns to see the man next to him—he can’t remember his name—smirk and nod at his bandana. He’d been thumbing at it unconsciously, the only source of comfort in this dark, stinking place.

“I know a woman’s work when I see one,” the man chuckles.

Kinich wonders if he should mention that he actually taught you how to weave, then decides against it—he doesn’t really care what this man thinks anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t feel an urge to discuss your existence with strangers.

“No, I don’t,” he replies quietly instead, and it’s the truth. There’s no title between you two, nothing to define the course of your relationship—in fact, the closest thing would be something informal, like “roommate”. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

The older man observes the way Kinich gnaws at his lip, bothered, before offering a comforting pat on the back. It’s a bit friendlier than Kinich is used to, but he supposes it comes with the wisdom of age—somehow, the act reminds him of Elder Leik.

“Not a girlfriend, then, but something, right?”

Something feels wrong to say—too vague, too uninvolved. When he imagines the pulsing in his chest, it’s your hands cupping his heartbeat, holding the very core of him. 

Everything would likely be a more proper term.

His teeth grit, flashing in the dark.

“Sure, something like that.”

“You should tell her, you know,” the man sighs, leaning back against the wall. Kinich wonders how the man is practically reading his mind. “At least before you get old like me.”

Kinich knows he’s a bit more mature than other people his age, a result of his upbringing. And usually, it can be an advantage—he’s independent and self-sufficient, unlike most others. But it’s times like these that he wishes he would’ve lived a normal life, going to school and playing until dusk fell. Social skills have never been his strong suit, and he often finds himself saying the wrong things.

He can’t afford to do the wrong thing anymore when it comes to you.

It’s always been entirely unintentional, but these days, he can’t seem to do anything but hurt and disappoint you. And now you’re at home, alone, while he goes out and risks his life. Briefly, he ponders what would happen if he never made it home.

Would you cry? Would you move on?

Would you find someone else?

It’s hard for him to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t have you by his side. 

He wants to keep it that way. 

He really, really likes your smile.

Kinich finally turns to face the man next to him, jaw clenched with determination. The man smirks, seemingly expecting that reaction.

“Got somethin’ to say, kid?” he asks, raising a brow.

Kinich nods, staring down at his hands. 

“After this,” he affirms, more to himself than anyone else. “After this, I’ll tell her.”

/

And, as always, Kinich finds himself alone. 

He can’t exactly say what had happened to the others—then again, he hadn’t tried to look. Monsters seemed to leap at him from every turn, and he couldn’t focus on much more than his own survival. 

On his way back out of this place, he’s sure he’ll come across their bodies one way or another. He’ll try to give them a half-proper burial, he thinks. 

The ruins descended far further than he had expected—a pulsing warmth seems to emanate from this place, layering sweat over his forehead. A heady scent of smoke lies thick in the air, rising toward the unseen ceiling. Kinich has to be careful with his steps—the place is so weathered and worn, he fears that the floor might give out beneath him.

He isn’t sure what he expected to see at the bottom. Treasure doesn’t usually appear in cartoonish chests filled with shining gold coin, after all. But when he inspects the ruins around him, all he finds are pale stone walls with a single pedestal in the center.

Cautiously, he approaches, eyes sweeping for danger. If the treasure is something truly valuable, it wouldn’t be out of the question for it to be booby trapped in one way or another. But he walks up, each step light and gentle, and nothing happens.

He sheathes his sword, peering down at the treasure laying over the smooth stone. 

It’s a wristband, thick and engraved with a language he can’t understand.

The style of it is different than most he’s seen—somehow, it looks a bit more modern. But even historical fashion items don’t tend to sell for too much, he thinks in disappointment. 

Essentially, he’d wasted his time coming down here.

He picks up the wristband, inspecting the design of it. Then, tentatively, he slides it on.

A burst of heat cracks through the air.

“Who dares disturb the Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw?! Speak now, mortal, or I’ll pound your puny face in!”

A tiny, yellow, pixelated dragon bursts forth, and Kinich’s jaw just about drops. 

Treasure comes in many forms, of this he is sure, but this seems to be more of a burden than anything.

It—no, K’uhul Ajaw—whirls on him in apparent rage. Kinich can’t really tell with the ridiculous sunglasses sitting on his face.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! Is there a brain in that puny head of yours, or are you just deaf?”

Kinich sighs. Whoever had started this whole rumor must be having a great laugh at his expense.

“I can hear you,” he replies monotonously. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”

Ajaw grows angrier. Kinich wonders if it’s just his default state.

“Then why did you come all the way down here? Are you stupid?!”

“Well, I was told there was some sort of powerful artifact here,” Kinich admits. He glances toward the ceiling, gauging how long it’ll take him to climb out of this place. “But it seems that they lied.”

Ajaw reddens in rage. “I’ll have you know that I am that artifact! My awesome power is beyond anything your mortal mind could possibly hope to comprehend!”

Kinich thinks it’s obvious why this dragon would’ve gotten locked in these ruins for so long—his personality is loathsome. Whoever sealed Ajaw likely had only done it to rid themselves of the grating sound of his voice.

Still, he can sense the deep thrum of potential within him. He’s likely not lying about having incomprehensible power.

Ajaw fixes Kinich with what he can only receive as a judgmental stare. 

“Why did you come all the way down here anyway? Are you looking for revenge? Trying to topple a nation?”

Ajaw proceeds to list a series of awful atrocities—Kinich zones out halfway through the war crimes. He’d come down here for Mora, but mostly, he’d come down here for you.

He thinks of your smile, and a pink flush washes over his face.

“I have someone I want to protect.”

It’s silent for a moment as Ajaw absorbs the implications of his explanation and the blush on Kinich’s face. Then, he laughs, a shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“You come all the way down here seeking power, all to protect some puny, peasant, mortal girl—”

It’s quite an assumption, not that he’s necessarily wrong. Kinich’s jaw tightens.

“—don’t speak about her.”

A sobering chill crackles in the air, filling the cracks in the ruined stone and sinking onto his shoulders. Ajaw seems to feel it too—he hesitates at the pressure, suddenly devoid of his earlier haughtiness.

“...I see,” is all he replies, calculated.

Ajaw floats languidly towards Kinich, circling him. “Well, I’ll admit, I can sense something different about you. So, luckily for you, I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

The tone of his voice is laced with foreboding. Kinich crosses his arms, cautious.

“What kind of deal?”

Ajaw chuckles—the sound echoes hauntingly, running a chill down Kinich’s spine.

“Don’t be so scared,” he barks. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dying.”

[saidrabbles]

vulnerable

pairing: g-dragon x reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k

.

— this is for anyone that feels like a burden to others if they dare open up about their feelings —

.

jiyong slides in his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh. music production has been so stressful, trying to meet the high expectations put on his name. g-dragon. sometimes, he wishes he can run away from this name, from his genius producer reputation. but he loves music, his fans and...he wouldn't have met you.

he met his girlfriend of three months now through mutual friends, and he couldn't be more thankful. you're everything to him, which is why your reply made him sulk.

jy: hi baby, are you free tonight? ;) y/n: hii my beloved, im sorryy :( work has piled up and i see no escape. i'll be busy for the next few days :(

several days is way too long of a time without seeing you. "i don't blame her, i'm struggling the same with my work. but i would love to see her for an hour or two." he was ranting to his bestfriend, taeyang, on the phone with a visible sulk in his voice. "i think you should tell her that jiyong, maybe she was too stressed to think of meeting for a few hours."

he was staring at the demo he produced a few hours ago, his mind thinking of ways to make the song sound better. he forgot taeyang, still on the other side of the call, but a feminine voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "did she say she's busy with work for a few days?" "yeah, why?" he cleared his voice, "uhm guys, what are you on about?"

hyorin, taeyang's wife, sounded worried. "i think you should go check up on her, jiyong-ssi." he sat straight in his seat "why? what does it mean when she says she's busy?" hyorin sighed on the other end, "i can't talk in detail about it because it's not my place but, (y/n) has struggled with being vulnerable because of a previous relationship." he stood up fully now, rushing to save his work. "i coincidentally went to visit her with a meal when she said she was busy, and she was having a breakdown...she thinks she will be a burden if she made people rush to her side everytime she's going through something." his heart felt like it stopped working, like it malfunctioned. why would she...she's not comfortable with me?...

.

.

you heard a knock on your apartment door and you started wiping your tears, the delivery man doesn't need to be seeing dried tears and puffy eyes, you tried to joke. "you can leave it just on the inside-" you were super-glued to your place. it wasn't the delivery man. "ji-jiyong?" your voice came out thick from all the crying you did. "can i please come in?" his voice was almost a whisper, like he is afraid to raise it any higher in case you run the other way.

you silently opened the door wider to allow him in, not knowing what to do with yourself. run, hide, don't show him your weakness. your traumatised mind was screaming at you, but you were still glued in-front of the gentlest man you've ever met. his eyes had an expression you couldn't read; pain? guilt? sadness..?

your body starts forcing you to walk into the living room, but before you turned around he leaped and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head leaning into your shoulder, engulfing you whole. you stayed in your place, you didn't understand what was happening. "(y/n)" he breathed again. "(y/n)" he breathed out, "why are you crying, alone, when i'm here?" you felt your body shaking, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head into the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide from the confession he was asking of you.

you held him tighter, and he returned it by pulling you closer to him. "it's not about you" your voice was more of a whisper than anything. "i know baby" you shifted in his arms, "you know?" he slowly started drawing circles on the small of your back. "hyorin told me a bit about it, but" he placed a kiss on the top of your head as he rested his chin on the top of your head, "who in their right mind would not want to hold you in their arms, like this, and smell your floral shampoo?" he tried to lighten the mood.

"a whiny, clingy person" you started "that's what he told me when i called him, needing reassurance." at which point did your tears started pooling around your eyes again, you don't know, but you notice how jiyong starts swaying the both of you gently right and left, like he's telling you he's listening. he knew you still had more to say. "i'm the type of person that holds it in, i don't complain unless i've suppressed my emotions for too long. at some point in my relationship, he started sighing anytime i tried to express how i'm feeling.." you started crying, but wanted to continue,

"so, i stopped telling anyone how i feel. every time i tried to speak, my mind would start to attack me, scream at me, and it shut me up." you hid your face in his chest as you cried your heart out. you let out all of your pent-up feelings to another human being after all this time. it wasn't just anyone, it was to the person that mattered the most to you. his arms melted away your sadness, stress, frustration. after what felt like hours, your cries were now sniffles, slowly settling into this newly cleansed heart.

you felt jiyong pull away, and pull you with him over to the couch in the living room. he sat you down, held your tear-stained face ever so gently, wiping any escaping tear from your (e/c) eyes. "your vulnerability" he kissed the space between your brows "is what you makes you human" he kissed your left cheek "becoming someone you can lean on," he kissed your right cheek "is a great honour for me." he kisses your nose "i want to know your everything, i want you to cry only in my arms, and to complain when life feels unfair." he grazed his thumb over your lower lip.

he slowly leaned in, placing a feather-like kiss. you smiled as he kissed you again, deepening the kiss, like he's sealing the promise he made to you with his warm, soft lips. you melted, feeling your mind settle into an unheard whisper. he rested his forehead on yours, sighing happily.

"i love you, kwon jiyong." he giggled at the mention of his full name, "i love you too, (y/n) (l/n)." you were both giggling at this point. you settled on his lap, as he held you close to his chest. feeling his heartbeat, you felt yourself come home. "thank you, my dearest." he reassuringly squeezed your upper arm. "always, my most beloved."

a/n: im working on a gdragon x reader slow burn friends to lovers reuqested by anon, but enjoy this scenario written by yours truly :)

[lovebyhyun]

the rush

genre : fluff, han jisung x reader

synopsis : when your best friend is finally ready to give his feelings for you a name.

warnings : jisung is shy, reader is unaware of jisung’s feelings, slightest mention of masturbation if you squint

a/n : can someone send me a request so i can check if they even work pls? lmao

masterlist

Jisung has always noticed that odd warmth unveiling uncomfortably in his stomach everytime he caught himself staring at you for a bit longer than intended.

He felt every single one of his heartstrings snapping when you flashed him a smile. Even the quickest and the smallest one made his heart skip beats and pump so fast, he almost felt it in his throat.

His feelings drove him crazy, yet he couldn’t shake the thought of you off his mind. All the late nights he spent thinking about you, picturing your face, doing things he wouldn’t admit to doing. Sometimes he felt a little insane with how often you filled his mind.

But deep inside, Jisung knew that he would be the best boyfriend that you could ever dream of. So sweet and loving, so caring and genuine.

He wasn’t in love. It was just a thought.

So he acted normal whenever he was around you. You two were absolutely nothing more than friends. Casual. Yet there was an undeniable amount of despair coating him whenever you’d mention another boy.

Whether it was you talking about yourself going on a date soon, you crying over how your ex cheated on you or you mentioning a male celebrity crush, it made his heart ache.

Han always tried to explain it as “being tired of being single” or “being jealous about how many people y/n is able to pull”. He tried so intensely to believe it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but feel that little spark growing bigger at the very bottom of his heart.

Now his eyes still heavy from sleep and limbs still making a mess with the tangled sheets, he opens his phone right after waking up to check for any important news.

And he saw it.

“im coming over tonight. you better have snacks at yours, love ya<3”

A sweet message from you that made his heart do a tiny backflip. Without realizing it, a small grin started engraving itself onto his face. It was normal for friends to be excited to see each other, right?

A few hours and a few back and forth texts with you later, Jisung prepared a cozy setting for the two of you for tonight. Nothing too crazy, just a few blankets, pillows and lots of snacks.

He remembered every single detail about what makes a movie night the perfect night for you, and he always made the expectations come true. It was the only right thing to do for your best friend of so many years. At least that’s what helped him sleep at night

And you came. Looking like an absolute goddess even in your most comfortable clothes, with no makeup on and a messy hairstyle.

Just with a single glance, he noticed every single detail about your appearance.

How singular strands of your hair framed your face perfectly, your hair tie doing nothing to stop them from getting in your eyes.

How your lashes looked extra long today, even though they had no mascara on. You probably curled them right before leaving.

How your sweater had the slightest stain, barely even noticeable. So of course he saw it. He noticed everything. But he told himself that he was just a very observant person.

He welcomed you in as usual, and you made yourself comfortable on the couch as Jisung put on your favourite show.

Grabbing a pint of ice cream and a spoon, you shot your friend a glance and you simply said

“Thanks for trying. It’s rare to find a friend like you these days.”

Han just looked at you and stopped. What was happening to him? Why was he reacting like this?

“You deserve it.” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, still he wasn’t sure if it was working.

Even after he finished talking, he didn’t look away. How could he? You were so effortlessly beautiful. You look back at him with a confused look and the tip of his ears went immediately red as he turned to the TV with the speed of light.

Not thinking much of it, you did the same and went back to your ice cream.

Jisung couldn’t quite focus on the characters moving on the screen and the sounds echoing across the room anymore.

Thoughts where rushing through his mind. What was that feeling untying in his chest each time you’d spare him a glance? Was it something more than a friendship he wanted with you?

Breaking him out of his trance, your giggle suddenly filled the room as a funny moment came on the show. And that was it for him.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

Han Jisung loved you.

[saetiate]

itoshi sae x reader comfort, established relationship. cw: mentions of reader's past trauma and past physical abuse. reader has grown up with 19 years of abusive trauma (this is the only specific bit and is only said once, the rest is general). sae is aware of this trauma, so he does not have his usual possible 'cruelty' (shall we say) that you might associate with him depending on how you characterize him. he is trying on purpose for you. selfship coded but written generally

a plate falls. a pang that for once, sounds soft, in a way it never has before. not like it did the first nineteen years in your life, making your heart jackrabbit, a deafening noise that followed a deafening silence that would follow with deafening screaming.

a plate falls from the side of the counter to the floor, you move but you don't catch it in time. you watch it tip and spin and fall and you know your heart is meant to fall with it but this time, the absence of it feels off. there's that silence you know all too well, a silence that would usually fill your stomach with dread, that you know follows with having you at your knees, bent over with pain shooting through your body over and over again, your crying body still staring at the broken fragments.

there's none of that. there is a hand, but it is nothing like the hands before. it is gentle at the crux between your neck and your shoulder. the squeeze it gives is comforting.

how strange, to be granted with something like that, something like comfort and warmth, for a mistake you made. how strange, that comfort can feel like a cut, something you know is inherently wrong — your brain mismatching the feelings given with the ones you hold.

you know, that being given comfort is not meant to make you feel this strange, curling feeling, like the fear of falling. it doesn't change how you feel. you know and you have learned and that in of itself doesn't heal anything. how messed up is that?

there's a shuffling, and then a paper bag is being given to you. you move, then, crouching to grab at the pieces. sae's hand waves in front of you for a moment. you don't know what he sees, you don't dare to look at him. you don't want to know if it's filled with pity, or disappointment. it's probably neither, given his usual nonchalant demeanor, but you can't risk it. you can't risk looking.

whatever he sees, he doesn't move to stop you this time (he has before. before, he has held your hands in his and asked you to sit down. before, you were a shaking rabbit in his arms with tears biting your lower lashline and a trembling lip. today is not that day. it's finally, not that day anymore). he helps you instead. there's a broom in your hands, and then a wet towel, and then…

and then the floor is clean.

"food's on the table." his voice is calm, despite everything. despite everything? what's that supposed to mean? why does a thought like that still cross your mind?

"that's what you were going for, right?" he continues. you're staring at the floor, where the plate had been. if you hadn't been, you'd notice the way he was trying to meet your gaze. "to put some food on a plate and on the table?"

"yeah. thank you."

"did you want a drink too?" he hums noncommittally. "i can make something."

"no, it's fine. i can do it myself."

i can do it myself. this time, you mean it. this time, it's really true. said with a kind of conviction.

he looks at you for a second, and then there's a gentle "okay."

"are you mad at me?"

you ask him this at the table, a whole ten minutes of silence after the whole ordeal.

"why would i be?" he tilts his head. that's the thing about sae, his words tend to be genuine. blunt, sometimes, but he doesn't tend to lie. when you look at him, you can find no hidden motives, no matter how hard you search.

"it's normal," he continues. he sounds like he's been thinking of how to say it, rotating the words in his mind like a hamster wheel. his mouth moves with unsurety, eyebrows furrowed, so foreign in comparison to his usual grace. "to drop things sometimes."

normal. you remember the bowl that sae himself had broken just a couple months ago, how it split into two pieces in the sink. how he had even given his version of a joke about how there's only one of these bowls left, because rin had broken the same one half a year ago when he came to visit, and you had broken that bowl over a year ago, the time he had held your shaking hands.

the meal finishes. he clears the plates and does the dishes. he sits with you on the sofa and you watch a show together.

there's no punishment. there's no yelling. there's a blanket draped over you both and his arm around yours and the afternoon sun.

normal, he calls it. but even after all these years, the warmth feels new to you all the same. there's an upside, of course. you find it like sunlight passing through the trees. that being: you're able to be grateful for it, to hold him close and bask in it.

author's note: i thought about not adding the 19 years bit but... i couldn't phrase this in a way that made me happy without it.

wow, exposing my traumatic and abusive childhood to the internet. i was indeed in a cycle of abuse for the first nineteen years of my life, physical and mental and emotional and financial all at once from families to friends to significant others, and i'm in my mid 20s now. which means i've spent about 5+ years healing from that. i'm still healing. my heart does not drop at a falling glass anymore. but i notice how it doesn't drop. the absence of it. i wanted to capture that

(also i imagine a lot of people reading this don't know me like that but this is my first time talking about this. i don't want to be seen as having like a victim complex or something? i'm a very independent girl (i have a capricorn moon and rising if that gives context) and this is my writing blog where i am using writing to explore my feelings.)

[aemndxx]

Crybaby!reader being cradled by rafe!! She just needs her daddy, he’s tough but soft at times and he just reassures her, calming her down from her little tantrum 🤍🤍🤍

𝓇.cameron. ┆ lovin' on you.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ won't be able to write much today… goin' shoppin' for my new apartment. 💐 here's a lil' somethin' for the soft girlies . <3

"c'mon baby, stop your cryin'—you're gonna make yourself sick," he sighs softly, cradling you in his lap, keeping a firm pressure around you as he gently rocks you, and you feel so safe in his thick, strong and protective arms, so loved.

"i.. 'm sorry, daddy, jus' can't help it sometimes," you mewl with a cute pout, another stream of fresh tears falling down your cheeks, making you bury your face into the crook of rafe's warm neck, and he sighs again, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to the top of your head, getting a whiff of those feminine hair products that he loves on you, something sweet and vanilla scented, just utterly and perfectly you.

"just needed dad, huh?" rafe chuckles softly, giving his head a slight shake to himself in amusement, and he can still hear you sniffling softly, trying to be quiet and not upset him, which he hates, because he's been trying to work on you and your shyness, always so nervous to upset him in someway, somehow.

it probably has something to do with your daddy issues, rafe thinks, slightly smug and malicious, but that's why he was the man who stepped up—not just as your man, and not just as your boyfriend, but as someone you can always look up to, someone you can go to for guidance, someone who'll be firm with you and punish you if need be.

and it was too easy, becoming that someone you desperately needed as he manipulated his way into your life.

however, rafe wasn't the bad guy—no, he knew you needed him, needed that extra love and attention, always so needy and whiny when you didn't get it, but now that rafe was here, with you, now that he has you under his control, you're the most perfect, docile little angel, all submissive and obedient and so, so sweet it's almost sickening.

"don't worry, dollface," rafe croons sweetly, before gently lifting your face up with two light little love-taps to your jaw, catching your attention as you instantly look and perk up, locking eyes with your handsome boyfriend.

and fuck, rafe thinks you're so pretty when you're crying.

"no more crying, ya' hear me?" rafe commands, though he keeps his voice light and gentle, but still firm, knowing he doesn't truly need to keep you in check, you know his rules already, and you've always been rafe's good girl.

sweetly, almost tenderly, rafe carefully wipes away the flowing tears down your flushed cheeks, already knowing you'll wanna redo your makeup once you see that your mascara and eyeliner had run down and created quite the mess—but again, rafe still thinks you're the prettiest girl in the world.

"sorry again, daddy—jus' love you 'nd missed you," you answer meekly, eyes watery and bloodshot, and your pouty lips swollen slightly from you always anxiously biting them, another bad habit that rafe is trying to work on getting you to stop.

"don't worry 'bout it, baby—daddy's here now, yea?" rafe hums softly, pressing a few soft, loving kisses all over your face, making you giggle sweetly and playfully roll your doe-like, misty eyes, which makes rafe smile.

"how about we put on a film and stay in for the rest of the night, yeah?" rafe offers politely, not minding watching one of your stupid romantic movies if it makes you smile, and get you outta this terrible mood of 'missing him' as you always like to complain.

but again, rafe finds that he doesn't mind his girl missing him, not one bit—in fact, he enjoys that fact a bit too much, but he would never admit it aloud, not even if he had a gun to his head.

"okay!" you chirp happily, already over your little tantrum from minutes ago, snuggling even deeper into rafe's lap as you both get comfortable on his bed, looking for one of your favorite movies to watch.

afterwards, once you decide on the film 'the notebook', rafe can't help but release a small, little grin to himself, because he already knows in just the next ten minutes, you'll be hysterically crying all over again, and he'll have to comfort you as you watch noah and allie's love story.

and if rafe already secretly knew that was the film you were gonna pick, and that 'the notebook' was one of your favorite romance films of all time... well, he didn't mind that too much, either.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

maroon - m. murdock

a/n: just something cute i wanted to throw together. remember to engage in safe and consensual sex with your partners and if you're going to be kinky have a safeword/system in mind!! warnings: sex! dirty talk! use of a safeword! matt is a hard dom until he isnt! reader is kind of feminine coded? idk. they go nonverbal, and matt takes care of them after they use the safeword because they are deeep into subspace! overstimulation and aftercare ! word count: 1.1k summary: you use the safeword during a rather passionate moment, so matt takes care of you. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: maroon - taylor swift "and how the blood rushed into my cheeks/so scarlet, it was maroon/the mark they saw on my collarbone."

There’s nothing quite like sex with Matt—This much you know, you are very well acquainted with it. In fact, you are probably the expert on sex with him. Like, you could get a PHD on the matter, that is how well you know sex with Matt Murdock.

And likewise, he knows you like the back of his hand. Maybe better than the back of his hand.

But, everyone has their limits. Especially you.

Because sex with Matt is like heaven, pure unadulterated bliss, nothing between you and the edge every time he takes you into his arms. But heavenly pleasure toes the line of intense agony, and of course, sometimes you are into that.

Not tonight, though.

Your legs are shaking as his thrusts become tougher, your fourth orgasm just on the horizon. He wants to make you come one more time, whispering dirty, horrible things in your ear.

Your arms are tied above you, and they’re beginning to ache—And the ropes are beginning to burn your wrists as he thrusts into you. And of course, it’s causing tears to form in your eyes, something that Matt can smell in the air.

“Crying for me, pretty thing?” He laughs, the game still fun to him. You let out a soft whimper in response, trying to muster up the energy to tell him that something was wrong.

“Matt..” You whimper out, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. He gently taps your cheek and grips your chin.

“That’s not my name, darling. Might have to make you come five times now, instead.”  

You want to enjoy it, you want to enjoy it so badly, because the first three orgasms were fucking amazing, but it’s.. Your brain is slipping, and everything hurts in a bad way. As he thrusts into you, pain shoots down your thighs.

“Lava,” You tell him, the safe word slipping out of your mouth. Matt immediately stops, his grip on you softening. He wipes the tears from your face softly, noticing how you shake so intensely.

“Oh, baby..” He coos softly, slowly pulling out of you. You let out a soft whimper, as he makes his way to untie your hands. When he does, he takes your hands in his and gently brings them to his lips and presses the back of them. “I’m going to go draw you a bath, okay?” he asks, and all you can do is nod.

He leaves for only a few minutes, and when he returns, he asks, “Can you walk to the bathroom?”

You sit up and go to stand, but your legs are shaking, so you grip his arm. He frowns gently, and then asks, “Is it okay if I pick you up?” He asks. Again, all you can do is nod. He carries you over to the tub, before setting you down. He crawls into the tub behind you, pulling you close to his chest as he begins to wash your skin, making sure to lather and massage your scalp.

You know he feels guilty about pushing you so far, but that thought is so far in your brain. He makes sure you’re nice and clean, before just sitting in the tub with you, rubbing your arms gently. But, eventually, he notices that the water looses it’s warmth a bit too much and stands again, drying himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist.

Then, he takes your hands and tells you, “C’mon, we gotta stand up now.” He hums, before pulling you up. You shiver a bit when you step out of the tub, and he just comes from behind you and begins drying you off with the towel, making sure to grab the softest possible towel.

Then, he makes sure it’s wrapped around you when he leads you back to the bed. He sits you down before grabbing a pair of boxer briefs, then slipping on an old ‘Columbia’ crewneck. Then, he pulls out a pair of underwear, a pair of your favorite pajama shorts and one of his tee shirts.

Then, he kneels down in front of you and begins to dress you. As he does, you finally find the words,

“Matt, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. It’s okay.” He says softly, leaning down to kiss your leg gently as he slips on your pajama shorts. Then, he says, “Lift your arms for me,” and you comply, letting him slip the tee shirt on. Then, he gets up and goes to the bathroom to grab your hairbrush.

He sits behind you on the bed, beginning to brush out your hair. When he’s done, he puts the hairbrush down and begins to feel around for your lotion. When he finds it, he moves to kneel in front of you again. “Give me your hands, my love.” He says gently.

When you hold your hands out for him, and he begins to gently rub lotion on your hands, and your aching wrists. The cooling lotion sooths the burning sensation. The pads of his fingers begin to massage your hands gently.

When he’s done he puts the lotion down and leaves you for just a minute to find you a snack and water. He hands you the water bottle and a bag of candy to get your sugar back up. But he stays kneeling by your side. He gently rubs your back for a while before asking,

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You smile gently, taking a sip of your water. Man, you think, he’s so fucking pretty.

“I’m sorry for pushing you so hard, baby.” He says gently, but you just smile.

“It’s okay, seriously.” You promise.

“No, it’s not. I should’ve been paying attention and checking in more. But I am proud of you for remembering the safe word.” When you finish your snack, you lay back in bed and pat the space next to you.

“Come lay with me, please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He says gently, and lays with you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.” He says gently.

“I love you,” You echo, leaning over to kiss his arm. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Anything for you.” He says gently, “Now go ahead and get some rest, darling.” He’s thrilled that you’re feeling better, the guilt slowly, leaving his bones.

“Alright.. Night, Matty. I love you.” You say again, sleep plaguing you.

“I love you, too.”

You fall asleep like that, right in Matt’s arms. You love him dearly and nothing has proved to you that this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with more than tonight. You love how gentle he is with you in your most vulnerable moments; It makes you fall deeper and deeper in love with him.

[lemon-boy-stan]

You flinch in an argument

Genshin men (Diluc, Kaeya, Tartaglia) and how they react when you flinch in an argument. TW: mentions of violence, reader has been treated badly in her past relationships.

DILUC

Diluc doesn’t get angry very often. At least, he does, but he never gets angry at you. He doesn’t know who has hurt you before, but he knows you tread lightly around him due to a past memory, a past feeling - maybe fear? And he often keeps this in mind, but today he’s just been so stressed and all his pent up anger just explodes.

How could you think he’d be the kind of man that cheats? How could you even imagine him in an affair? He’s tried his best to make sure that he’s the perfect husband. He wants to let you know he’s capable of love, of being a husband and a father. But today he’s tired, and when he sighs heavily and moves his hand towards his forehead, you squeak loudly and jump away from him.

Diluc’s heart shatters. He feels a sudden swerve of anger and protectiveness wash over him. Your normally happy and bright eyes are clouded with fear, and you look up at him, but the anger on his face is gone.

Diluc is a strong, stoic man, and you’ve only seen him cry three times, once when he was drunk. This time, his eyes fill with tears and you’re shocked. This is not the reaction you’re expecting from him - you were expecting a hand across your face, a bottle thrown at you. But instead, he flings his arms around you, sobbing loudly into your neck. You’re still so shocked that you cry too, softly into his hair (Diluc is fairly taller than you). “I’m sorry,” he sobs, nose running, “I didn’t mean to make you scared. I would never dream of hurting you, I love you so much.”

KAEYA

Kaeya is a yeller in arguments. While Diluc has many quips and thoughtfully curated hurtful comments, Kaeya screams. The rare times you fight, he is always shrill, and always uses hand gestures, which can be a bit of an issue at times.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d ever be interested in her!” if he was a cartoon character, there would be steam blowing from his ears. His blue eyes have become incredibly dark. He throws his arms up in the air and you flinch away from him. Kaeya freezes.

He drops his hands, face softening. Kaeya cries more than his older brother, and the tears roll down his cheeks, but his eyes are filled with rage, a different kind of anger from earlier.

You run up to hug him and he growls into you, “his name. Now.” you shake your head into him. You already know what’s running through his brain, you can practically see the red he’s seeing. He can barely breathe as he holds you tight, the rage is ricocheting off his body. “Please,” he mumbles, “please tell me his name. I’ll fucking kill him.”

CHILDE

He’s a member of the Fatui, so Childe must often appear scary and heartless, but in private and with his friends, he’s funny, kind, and caring - except for when he loses his temper. Ajax rarely loses his temper over proper things, and when he loses his temper for silly things, it always ends with rough sex, but you’ve never seen him lose his temper like this. Tartaglia is the perfect boyfriend, almost as if not being perfect is one of his insecurities. He knows you’ve been hurt in your past. He doesn’t know what happened, or who hurt you or when, but he knows that that’s why you’re always so quiet around other men, even him sometimes. It was just today where he let his anger get the better of him.

“I said not to come!” he’s screaming the words, “I said they were dangerous but you NEVER KNOW HOW TO LISTEN! What would happen if I didn’t know any of the Harbingers? Didn’t you see the way they were looking at you?!” Childe throws his arms up in the air and you jump away from him, backing into the wall and his eyes flash dangerously. He knows immediately why you’ve flinched and suddenly his anger at you is gone, instead focusing on whichever man touched you.

“His name,” he’s breathing through his nose, “now. Tell me his name, now.” the name of your ex stumbles out of your mouth and he cries out in rage, punching a wall. Tears stream down his face, and his pretty, amber orange hair is messy. You’ve only seen Tartaglia cry when he’s had nightmares or when he’s frustrated, but never because of you. You suddenly feel guilty for burdening him, “I’m sorry,” your lip trembling, and he sniffles, wrapping his arms around you, “you have nothing to apologize for.” you’d thought the hug would last longer, but it didn’t. He pulls away and you blink up at him. “Where are you going?” and the danger returns to his face, “to kill your ex.”

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[dinsbeskar]

Subjugate the Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron has a nightmare. You are only too happy to oblige in making him forget; or:

Sub!Sauron makes a lengthy appearance. Plot, what plot?

Set in my In The Dark series, but works as a standalone (alludes to trauma mentioned in other chapters, but it is literally just smut) // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Disease by Lady Gaga, Don't Let Me Go by Raign, Like a Prayer by Madonna, Oh You Are Not Well by Chloe Foy

Playlist!

Warnings: 18+! Dom/sub - gentle dom, needy sub; just pure smut; literally Plot What Plot (though there is a bit if you squint); P in V sex; oral sex (male and female receiving); copious amounts of bodily fluids (sorry, like for real); cockwarming; dry humping; handjob; begging/denial/teasing; praise kink; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; unresolved trauma; tiny bit of violence but it is just an illusion; very soft!Sauron, so tender. We make him cry and that's all I wanted to do.

A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, it is ummm filthier than anything I've ever written, like I really don't know where it came from. The warnings are just what's on the menu at this point idk.

I pictured Annatar for this one, but you guys can imagine whomever you like (@troublesomesnitch he's got that chest hair though!!) Sub!Halbrand would be a treat ngl.

Excuse the gif guys, I just want to see him cry :)

Word Count: 4.2k (!!)

Sauron does not sleep. Ordinarily.

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

Sometimes however his dreams come unbidden. Instead of slipping into your mind, he falls deeper into his own, unearthing old memories he'd rather stay buried, burned beyond recognition.

You always know when this happens; your usually calm and collected lover wakes in a cold sweat, clutching at your skin, his face in your neck, desperate to forget what his mind has shown him. He has never told you the details, but you can only assume it has something to do with his master, with his cruel and unusual forms of punishment.

Tonight is one of those nights, worse perhaps as he moans and writhes in his sleep, rousing you immediately. You can't seem to wake him from his torment, every gentle touch, every kiss to his temple only seems to fan the flames. You end up atop him, each of your thighs either side of his abdomen, trying to shake him awake.

Visions of Morgoth in his wrath; illusions of you partaking in his torture at his master's hand; pain and terror in his heart, as the nightmare refuses to cease, even as you try to soothe him.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

Morgoth's words hold him in a vice grip; he can't break free, the unshed tears behind his closed eyelids threaten to leak onto his cheeks, stricken with fear and pain.

"I've got you, you're okay, you're here with me." You stroke his face, your hair brushing his chest, unsure of what to do except hold him.

When his eyes finally fly open, he grasps your arms, and with a leg hooked behind you, flips you onto your back, a dagger at your throat.

You're fairly sure his weapon isn't real, but he is a master of illusion, and pain is merely a construct of the mind; he could hurt you if he wanted to.

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Your hands shaking, you reach up slowly and try to take the knife; surely enough, when you clutch at it, it disappears like smoke between your fingers, so you take his hand instead, still clenched unfeeling around his shattered illusion.

You pull his hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart flutter against his fingers.

Slowly but surely, you bring him back to you, his daze broken but his psyche bruised and bleeding.

Your shallow breathing evens out as the light returns to his eyes, and for a moment he looks at you confused as if his position above you is of your own making.

His eyes dart from his hand on your chest, to your fiercely fixed expression, attempting to soothe his nerves but unable to hide how shaken you are.

"Is this real?" He's still breathing hard, for someone who doesn't really need to breathe. "Are you really here? Is it you?"

He's so tender, tracing your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, gently raking your hair with his fingertips.

"Of course, beloved, I'm right here, I'm always right here." You try to hide your confusion, assuming he's still walking the line between dreaming and waking.

He slowly pulls himself away to nestle at your side, reluctant to break eye contact with you as he does so, still clutching at you to ground himself.

"What did I do? Tell me I didn't hurt you, love." He's so quiet, it's unnerving, but you take him in your arms anyway, crading his head to your chest.

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

All you want to do is tell him you love him, that he deserves you, that you're his, that he deserves everything you want to give him, that you ache for him when he's not by your side.

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

He listens to your heartbeat for a while, focusing on the strong rhythm to forget his waking nightmare, marvelling at how your heart beats in tandem to his, running his trembling fingers across your exposed skin, up your arm, across your collarbone to your throat, watching the artery jump in time with your heart. He knows you so well, so intimately, that when you notice his erection, your heart skips a beat, and he can guess exactly what you're thinking, not needing to peer into your mind for himself.

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

"Love..." You murmur into his hair, absentmindedly running your fingers over the sensitive pointed tips of his ears. "Come now, you need to rest, darling."

He can't show you what he saw, what he went through, the horror and the agony of his master's worst torments. The image of you performing the worst of it is tattooed on his eyelids, a reminder of Morgoth's favourite form of punishment. He can't show you, can't tell you, but he can ask you to make him forget.

"I need you," he whispers in your ear, strangled groans peppering his sentiments, making you gasp, "need you to feel good, need you to know how much I adore you-"

Your eyes widen as blood rushes to your cheeks, the heat of his words enflaming your core.

"I want you too, love, but right now? Are you sure?" You ask him through ragged breath as he turns his attentions to your neck, licking and sucking and blowing cool air over your wet skin, before warming it with his tongue once more.

You're so close to giving in, wanting to give him all he craves and more, and he knows it.

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

"I'm yours. Make me yours."

His words thrill you, but his tone makes you feel incredible; needy, wanton, desperate to please you.

You glide your hands over his torso, relishing in his hot velvet skin and the soft hair that covers him; taking your time as he tries to kiss you senseless, his heated skin glowing with sweat that you can't resist tasting for yourself, salt and smoke on your tongue.

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

You slide your hands between the layers of fabric separating your skin, stripping him slowly and laying him bare for your viewing pleasure alone.

He arches his back for you, baring his neck and thrusting his hips into the ghost of your touch, chanting your name and praying for you to take his aching cock in hand.

You trace the contours of his thighs, his firm abdominal muscles, the stiff peaks of his nipples, earning you a shudder and a moan that shoots straight to your core, hot wet arousal dripping onto his thigh.

His fingers move to gather your nectar instinctively, wanting to savour every taste of his wife, but you grip his wrist and raise it above his head, and he gasps. You've never denied him before, not in the eons you've adored him, but it turns him on beyond belief.

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin. You are a sight to behold, as your hair cascades down your back, lips parted and breath ragged; your breasts bounce as you ride his thigh, hypnotising him, drawing him deeper into your thrall.

He tries to lean up to kiss you, lave every inch of your skin with his desperate tongue, but you push him back to the bed.

"Not yet, soon but not yet." You want his mouth on you, the aching between your thighs only amplified by the distinct lack of your husband’s throbbing length inside you, but tonight is for him; he needs to surrender to you first.

"I don't think you've let go quite enough yet." Your warm breath breaks on his sensitive neck, washes down his spine, straight to his cock, throbbing in his need for you.

You haven't touched him yet, hands firmly in place on his chest; his eyes plead with you to be lenient, and as his loving wife, you're only too happy to oblige him as he continues to beg for all the care and attention you can give.

"Please, love, please, need you to-" he gasps as you run your fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the copious amounts of precum pooling on his stomach to ease the glide over his flesh.

"Is that better, love?" You can't help but smirk at his pained gasps, as you languidly stroke his shaft, circling the sensitive head with your thumb, your eyes locked on his.

His cock twitches in your hand as he moans your name, begs for release, begs for your cunt, begs to be remade.

"That's it, love, let yourself go. All you need to do is feel good for me, my love," you lean down, whispering in his ear, "please me, show me how much you deserve your release."

His breath hitches and you hear him swallow hard; his expression is a masterpiece, eyes wide, jaw slack, as he begs you to show him mercy, groaning and whimpering as you pump his length.

"Please..." It's only one syllable, but it feels like a lifetime as he chokes out his plea, tries to touch you to no avail as you hold his hands above his head, placing them in a death grip on the headboard.

"Please, what? You might need to be more specific, my darling." You edge down the bed, holding him in place as he tries to follow you, until your head rests on his thighs.

"Need you to... fuck!" He growls and curses and grips the headboard as his hips jerk and writhe to meet you.

"Need me to...? What, my sweet, tell me?" You are enjoying teasing him, perhaps a little too much, and you will pay for it later, but right now he's so deeply needy for your love and attention that he'll take whatever you bestow upon him.

"Touch me..." he groans, as his cock visibly throbs with need, "your fingers, your mouth, I don't care, I need you, you're the only one, only one who can make me feel like this..."

His pleas and whimpers cut off with a sharp gasp, as you take his cock in your mouth as deeply as you can manage. He feels the opening of your throat on his tip and loses his mind, his oversensitive flesh shooting stars up and down his spine, heat pooling in his abdomen that almost immediately spreads like wildfire throughout his body, as your fingers and tongue and lips work together like an orchestra, drawing an irresistible melody from the depths of his pitch black soul, and all the seed his cock can muster.

You pull away and let him spill himself over your thighs, your abdomen, your hands; he looks mortified but he can't stop now he's started, pearly white splattering your skin, making you his.

"I belong to you," he keens and stutters but you hear him through his orgasm, his whimpers becoming moans that reverberate through you.

You can only watch him adoringly as he finishes quaking and moaning beneath you, unable to quite believe that he is yours, even after all this time.

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

"Proud of you, love, so good for me." You murmur as you lean down to kiss him softly, giving him that tiny confirmation of your affections he needs right now.

"...thank you, needed you. Ahh- Need you." He is grateful, oh so grateful, but his still-hard cock betrays him, and you can't help but grin.

"Oh love, did I not do a good enough job? Have I left you wanting?" Your faux sincerity pains him and he immediately starts apologising.

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I know, I've got you," you smile at him; he returns it so radiantly, you have to kiss him, to be the one to destroy it.

His pretty moans flutter to your cunt, arousal dripping from you like honey from the hive, and he looks up at you, gloriously wide eyed, begging to be allowed to taste your nectar, to sate his thirst for you.

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours," His breathless plea is like no music the Valar have ever sung, his moans a spell all their own, enrapturing you even as you hold the key to his release, as you take command of the Maia who values his control of others above all else.

"I do believe, dearest, that you made quite the mess, actually, perhaps you'd be so kind?" You gesture to the cum that still drips down your thighs, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely ready to be washed from your skin.

He is only too happy to oblige.

You lie back and beckon him to you; he works his way up your body, methodically but no less desperately, licking up every drop to please you, content to savour every inch of you. When he tries to make a detour to your mound, you gently yank his hair, reminding him of his task, revelling in the absolute control he's given you.

"Oh love, you did make a mess," you moan as you stroke his hair, "so good for me, cleaning me up, such a good husband, always so good to me."

Receiving such praise is almost cruel and unusual for Sauron, who is frankly more used to giving it to you, and receiving wrath from all others. A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise? Your devotion, your care, your undivided attention; all for him, giving him that for which he yearns above all else.

He can't resist stealing a kiss, crashing his lips to yours as he cradles your face. You taste his seed on his lips, something that feels strangely forbidden, thrilling in its taboo. The aching in your core has only intensified with his efforts, and you feel it is about time he served you with his silver tongue in the way you both crave. You push his head to your cunt, with which he gladly complies, settling between your thighs, gripping your legs firmly apart to allow him to feast on you.

Before his tongue can delve into your folds, he holds back, locking his gaze on yours.

"Please? Let me taste you, let me show you how much I love you."

"Fuck, yes, love, yes," you chant his name as he finally puts his tongue to excellent use, seeking out your swollen clit, lapping at your entrance, sucking at the velvety skin of your inner thighs.

He keeps his hands in view; you haven't told him he can touch himself, and he won't break this spell now.

Like a starving man at a banquet, he indulges in you, exquisitely. Every tiny moan that escapes him vibrates over your folds, making you whimper in return; he flicks his tongue over your entrance before sliding two fingers deep inside you, hooking them and stroking that delicious sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He watches you the whole time, basking in the chorus of your pleasure.

You feel the heat coil in your abdomen, and you pull him away sharply; his disappointment is evident but you want him inside you when you finally claim your orgasm.

"Lay back, love, hands on the headboard." It is intoxicating, having your husband obey your every command, and as he settles into the mattress, looking up at you expectantly, you vow this won't be the last time the two of you play this game.

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home. You grind your hips into him, capturing with your lips every whimper that forces its way past his clenched teeth. Tracing his firm chest, running your fingers through the smattering of soft hair, feeling every curve and contour slowly, languidly, while he writhes beneath your thighs, caging him inside your wet heat.

His strangled moans and gasps echo throughout your chamber; every time he reaches for you, you press a kiss to his palm and hold it above his head, until he learns to behave.

"No one could love me like you, care for me like you, knows how to take their pleasure from me like you, beautiful wife, only yours." He feels like he's losing his mind, slipping further into some deep quiet space where it's just the two of you, where nothing matters but you on his cock.

"Only you can put me back together, can sing the song my soul yearns for-" you interrupt his pretty words with your fingers in his mouth.

"Hush, my love, focus on me, only me, you don't have to speak, you don't have to beg for me unless you want to, just let it happen." You trace the shell of his ear with your tongue, savouring the tiny sighs that escape him, before nipping the pointed tip and relishing his sharp moan.

"Bound together, you and I, for all eternity... and I wouldn't have it any other way, sweet husband." You groan out between thrusts, every movement within you the sweetest form of torture.

No other thrill in the world will ever compare to this; your divine husband laid out beneath you, looking up at you with blissful wonder, eyes black with lust, golden hair mussed and tangled by your fingers, your name tumbling from his swollen lips like a prayer and a curse. Right now, you'd take either.

"Darling, please," his broken gasp spans an octave, jumping to a breathy moan as you descend on his cock once more.

"I know what you need, love," you moan as you ride him, the drag of his cock inside you fucking delicious, but the look on his face is a feast in comparison.

His eyes widen as he clutches the bedsheets, refusing to look away but requiring every iota of self-restraint to stay present with you, not to lose himself to the unearthly sensations you've introduced him to tonight.

"I've got you, just let it go, give yourself to me, beloved, let your mind empty-" you kiss him deeply and swallow the groan building in his chest.

"So proud of you, so good for me, doing so well," you let out a throaty moan as you clench your walls around him, feeling his cock throb within you.

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

His ragged breath hitches as the last shred of self-control slips through his fingers. He thrusts up deep inside you, throbbing, aching to fill you, as you grab his hands and pull them to touch you finally, a precious relief to you both.

As he runs his hands up your bare skin, he kneads your soft flesh, worshipping every inch as if he's never beheld anything so perfect in his long life. His large hands encircle your abdomen, grasp your hips, pull your ass impossibly closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins; not that the distinction is important anymore.

He rests his hands on your back, fingers splayed as if to encompass you within his flesh, as if being wrapped around you, caged inside you, isn't enough contact, like the two of you enjoined in body and soul isn't enough, will never be enough to sate his hunger for you.

Finally, you let him lean up to join you, his torso flush with yours, gliding against you, slick with the sweat you've provoked in your teasing. He kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours, teeth hungry, lips swollen, your breath mingling just as your souls are entwined, a maelstrom of pleasure in which you'd be happy to be imprisoned forever.

You brush back his soft hair, grip the roots, and pull his head back, bearing his throat to your greedy lips. You grind on his cock as you press harsh kisses, soft bites, to his tender flesh, laving his skin and savouring his moans under your tongue. He fucking whimpers under you, and you pull away to take him in, in all his ruined glory.

There are tears in his eyes, his lips wet and parted for your kiss; his expression is nothing like you've ever seen, so completely has he given himself to you and your pleasure.

You softly trace his throat before grasping him firmly, feeling every breath, every sob, every whimper, reverberating through you, inflaming every nerve in your body.

His Adam's apple bobs under your fingers, firm in your grip but tender in your passion. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, falling down his glorious face and filling your heart with such love, such adoration, such utter and complete devotion, that it scares you for a moment, pushing you over the edge at last.

You clench around him, milking his sensitive cock for every last drop of seed, as you ride this new high, this indescribable feeling of power that his submission has wrought in you. You think if you could just hold onto that feeling-

"I feel it too-" his strangled moan is cut short, all the stars in the sky paling in comparison to the pleasure he feels beneath you right now.

You feel him paint your insides, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you until he is spent. Your foreheads pressed together, your limbs entangled, every breath shared in tandem; you would stay here forever. And he would gladly grant his goddess that wish, and any more that your heart desires.

You roll onto your side, limbs shaking with exertion, pulling him to join you, refusing to allow him exit from your wet heat. He huffs a small, relieved sigh, not wishing to be parted from you either.

His iron embrace never fails to comfort you, and it is especially firm tonight. Your heart swells at the thought that even after surrendering to you so entirely, so perfectly, he still needs to hold and shelter you, can't give up his role as your protector even at his most vulnerable.

"We should do that again, love." You murmur, feeling his smirk against your neck.

"Whatever you desire, my Queen," he peppers your neck with tender kisses, sensing you are close to sleep. "I am yours, you are mine-"

"And always will be." You interrupt with a sleepy smile, provoking a chuckle.

Sauron can only watch you enthralled, as you drift off, content, your limbs entwined with his, reluctant to follow you into sleep after tonight's events. Perhaps, yielding control is something he should master, he muses; after all, you did seem to be utterly delighted with the turn of events, and he is nothing if not a loving Lord, a devoted husband enthralled by his wife to distraction.

You slip into dreaming, holding onto him as if for dear life, relishing in the feeling of being so loved, so obeyed.

Your brain is empty, but your cunt is full, and your heart is happy.

[star-girl69]

The Last Time

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

Part One - The Last Time

Part Two - Cowboy Like Me

Part Three - Tomorrow Never Came (coming soon!)

Part Four - Living Legend (coming soon!)

Part Five - Pretty When You Cry (coming soon!)

—-

synopsis: the last night you spend with clarisse before she goes on a quest

a/n: had to put my own take on the clarisse leaving reader behind to go on a quest SORRY Y’ALLLLL this is like devastating fr tho i’m kinda sorry like 😭

The Last Time - Taylor Swift (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol)

warnings: angst, like so much angst i’m gonna say it 5 times, angst angst angst angst angst, angst, hurt comfort and also hurt NO comfort bc i’m evil, kissing, cutesy until it’s not but it never really is, i felt like choosing pain, y’all should start calling me she-devil this is just so mean and evil, swearing, fighting, allusions to death, daddy issues lol, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

June 4, 12:08 PM

It’s a cold summer night. You sneak out of your bed, sheets slipping off of your shaking body, the same memories playing in your mind. It always comes down to this, the nights.

In the dreams, she doesn’t come back to you, and the nights without her are so cold, so lonely, so horrible you can stand it. They’re only in your mind, but they hurt just as bad. It’s not every night you slip into each others beds, but whenever you have a nightmare, you find your way to hers. Whenever she has a nightmare, she finds her way to yours.

You both have nightmares about the same things.

The usual cryptic prophesies, the various monsters you just can’t seem to kill, and losing each other. Demigods die. They die easily. You both know that.

Some people swear off love.

And Clarisse told you she wishes she could, she wishes she could pretend you aren’t her entire heart, but she never had a choice. You are her Achilles heel, her one weakness.

You couldn’t either. You took one look at the beautiful daughter of Ares and never looked back again.

Still, there’s a certain desperation in every demigod relationship. Touches are just a bit tighter, hugs a bit longer. Because you all have lost so much, and you all feel absence heavily. Every time could be the last time.

Your footsteps creek against the porch of the Ares cabin. You open the door only a crack, slipping in silently the way you always do, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

Clarisse is awake in her bed, the corner of the cabin. She’s staring at the moon fiddling with her fingers. You frown, but Clarisse turns to you.

You’re sure you look as wrecked as you feel.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs. “C’mere, what happened?”

You always ask each other, but you both know.

You crawl towards her, sitting in between her legs, arms around her neck, head pressed to her chest. She holds you up so you don’t have to. You can’t, not right now.

She kisses your forehead and her hand smooths down your hair.

“You went on a quest,” you whisper. You miss the way she stiffens. “You didn’t come back.”

She doesn’t tell you she’s not going on a quest. She doesn’t tell you she’s going to come back.

“I’m here,” she says. “Do you feel my heart? I’m here, and I feel yours. It’s beating so fast, baby, you have to take a deep breath.”

Tears well in your eyes. You dig your nails into her soldiers.

“Oh, Gods, please don’t leave me,” you cry.

She doesn’t tell you she won’t.

“I’m here, I’m here right now. I’m here right now, listen to my heart, baby, listen to my heart.”

Clarisse swallows back the bile in her throat. She tries not to lie to you, she tries. But sometimes, on cold summer nights when you find your way into her bed, and she doubts you’ll remember this in the morning-

“I’ll always be here, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

—-

June 11, 5:46 PM

If you thought the nights without Clarisse were bad, then the days are even worse. You miss her. You never realized how much she was there, silently, always watching, not until you told her to stay away from you.

You sit at the dinner table, the sun setting. Most of your siblings have left- but you’re here with May, sitting there as she watches you like a hawk and interrogates you.

“You haven’t been the same. Not since, like, last week. And something happened with Clarisse, it’s obvious. I gave you a few days because I thought you were just having a fight, but you’re not.” She sighs and grabs your hands. “What happened?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” you dismiss. She stares at you with such heartbreak in her eyes.

May is the sibling you’re by far the closest with- you like similar things, and people sometimes think you’re actual full-blooded siblings because you look so alike. She was the first person you ever met at Camp Half Blood, and after Clarisse, she’s the first person you run too. But now that Clarisse is leaving, and she’s already gone, May is all you have left.

You squeeze her hands. Your best friend, you want to tell her, but saying the words aloud makes them real.

She’ll find out tomorrow.

—-

June 8, 10:57 AM

She tells you privately, she smiles softly and leads you into the woods, she holds your hands and touches your face and kisses you like she’s not about to break your heart.

“Why are you bringing me out here?”

You know her like your own mind. You spend so much time with Clarisse, next to her, it’s like you have a window to her heart tattooed on your arm. You know, even when she doesn’t want you to.

“I just have something to tell you. And I wanted privacy.”

She doesn’t tell you it’s not a bad thing.

Your stomach sinks and you hold her hand tighter, and even though she’s about to break your heart she kisses your cheek and squeezes your hand.

“Just you and me, pretty girl. I just wanna talk, okay?”

She leads you to a clearing with a beautiful view of the strawberry fields and you smile, sitting down and letting your face feel the sun. You can feel her looking at you, but the beauty of this place and each other only blinds the two of you temporarily.

“Okay, what do you have to tell me?”

There’s stones in your stomach. Your heart is squeezing, you can physically feel the tension and anticipation in your organs.

You look in her eyes and you pray to every God that it’s nothing.

“I love you, you know that?”

Clarisse never says I love you, and your stomach twists more.

“Of course I know.”

She lays down on her back and opens her arms. She sighs when you lay your arm over her stomach, head on your chest. Her hands grip onto you tight.

She doesn’t speak for another minute, like she’s just soaking you and the sunshine up, like it’s the last she’s ever gonna get.

“Chiron… a week ago, I think, he called me to the Big House.” You hum, staring at the treetops. “Him and Mr. D… they… uh.”

“You can tell me,” you pretend you aren’t scared.

“A quest,” she blurts. “They have a quest for me.”

“Oh,” you mumble, stupidly.

A quest could mean a million different things. It could be an errand for Chiron and Mr. D, or it could be something preordained by the Fates.

She could have a choice or she could not.

“It’s three children of Ares. It’s about some sort of ancient blood feud between my father and- it doesn’t matter. But it- it doesn’t look good-”

You sit up. She follows you, eyes wide, hands splaying around where your body used to be on hers.

“‘It doesn’t look good’? Clarisse, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She grabs your hands. “It’s dangerous, like any quest-”

“It’s not like any quest though, is it?”

She presses her lips together. “No. No, it’s not.”

“You didn’t accept it, did you?”

She stares into your eyes.

She looks so pretty today, her hair half-up half-down. Her eyes always shine so brightly in the sun- they reflect it. Sunny days with her make your heart squeeze, because it always looks like she’s got suns for eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I am-”

You tear your hands away from her.

“Why- why would you- Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, why would you do this?”

You cry, and she reaches for you, her face twisting into something painful. But how can she expect you to run to her when she’s the one hurting you?

“Just- just not right now. Not until the 13th, let’s just have this together, okay?”

“How, Clar, how?”

She grabs your hands and doesn’t let you pull away.

“My father asked for me, he asked for me. I have to go. I can’t refuse my father, Y/N-”

You rip your hands away. “He doesn’t care about you, Clarisse. But I do. I care about you.”

She rubs her temples with one hand, the other still reaching for you, eyes screwed shut.

“Please don’t be like this. Don’t be selfish, I have to this. He asked for me, Y/N. This is such a huge step-”

“A huge step to him loving you? He’ll never love you. Our parents will never love us, because they’re incapable of caring about us. But you have me, Clarisse. You have me, and I love you so much-”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers. “You don’t know they can’t love us.”

“And neither do you.”

She reaches out to touch the tears falling down your face.

“Clarisse, please,” you cry. “I’m here. I’m always here, and just- just don’t put your father over me, please don’t, not anymore-”

She grabs your face. “I’m not going to choose between you and him.”

You’re full on sobbing now, and Clarisse never cries, but just the look on her face at seeing you cry makes you cry more.

“But I’m here, Clar, I’m here, I’ve always been here, please-”

She shushes you and tries to hug you, but you can’t, not when your mind is spinning to fast, not when you want nothing more than to be in her arms because you know if she just holds you then you’ll shut up and forget. But you can’t, you can’t, not this time.

Not when all the pieces are sinking together.

The only time you see her is when you sneak into each others beds, dates in the woods, secret looks across the courtyard, pulling each other into the bathrooms or sheds or something to make out.

You needed her so bad you didn’t realize that you were never first. You didn’t care, but at least she was still there.

“Did you even think about me when you said yes?”

She tries to hug you again. You stand on shaky legs.

“Y/N,” she whispers, half-broken, half-disbelief. “Don’t do this.”

“I just need a day,” you say, but you both know what this means.

She laughs, runs her hand through her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Fuck, I know it’s not perfect, we’ve never been perfect, but I need you right now. Don’t walk away. Don’t be like that.”

“And if I asked you not to walk away? If I asked you not to be like that?”

“I’m not being like anything!” she yells. “You’re the one who’s being a selfish brat.”

You cross your arms and look at her. You want the ground to swallow you whole. You want to jump into her arms and never leave.

“Don’t, okay. Just don’t. Stay, and we’ll talk, I’ll try, you know I’m not good at this but I want to try, we have to try for us.”

“Clarisse, there’s no us anymore. You’re leaving.”

“Not until the 13th, Y/N. We could have something so good if we just… pretend.”

You could play pretend with her for hours. You could be married and you could live in a place where no monsters can touch you, where there’s no one to hide from. Where there’s no memory of her father, no axe hanging over you.

“I don’t want to pretend. I want you.”

But it’s Clarisse. It’s the girl you love, and you’re young so you believe you can fix this.

“Don’t go,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

You’re both glaring at each other, stupid teenage girls who fell in love too hard too fast, and now you’re scrambling at the world changes around you. You love her so much, but you finally realized that she doesn’t care about you, you’re her secret, and you haven’t had a backbone for so long but you will have one now.

“He asked for me. I already accepted. I need you right now, so stop being selfish and accept it.”

“How am I being selfish? How am I being selfish for not asking you to kill yourself? For asking you to put me first, for once?! You never put me first. I see that now. You never-”

She scoffs. “We both know that’s not true.”

“But I don’t, Clar. I don’t know that’s not true. So tell me, show me, make me believe it’s not true-”

She crosses the distance between you, even though it feels like a thousand miles, and plants her hands on your face. She kisses you, she kisses you like she loves you but not enough to stay.

But you kiss her back. You kiss her back, because she’s the love of your life. You’ll always come back like a kicked dog, like a ball on a chain. You’ll always come back to her like you go back to your bed each night- mindlessly, wordlessly, because it’s routine. Because you sleep in your bed and you need sleep to live, you need her to live.

She pulls back, breathing heavily against your lips.

“You are the only person who matters to me.”

Your grab her wrists and take her hands off your face. She tries to resist you, keep touching you, but it’s halfhearted because she’ll always end up doing the little things that you want.

“Only because the Gods aren’t people.”

“Y/N, stop.”

“Why do you go back to him? Why? Again and again, you go back even though he feels nothing for you- and you know it-”

She steps back, takes your hands off of her wrists.

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe, you see the hurt on her face. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t, it’s just, I love you-”

She blinks and stares at you like you just broke her favorite toy.

“I-I should go.”

You want her to say something, you want her to protest, you want her to kiss you again.

“Maybe you should,” she agrees. “Before we both say more things we’ll regret.”

Her face twists back into what she lets everyone else see, that hard mask of indifference, of cruelty and ruthlessness.

How can she hold you so tenderly and look at you like this? How can you pretend you’re still the girl she loves when the fog clears and you realize what you said?

“Yeah.”

You turn and leave the clearing, you can’t look at her hurt face anymore, tears streaming down your face. Clarisse stays there. You swear you hear the sound of muffled crying.

—-

June 12, 3:46 PM

Chiron announces the quest. It’s dangerous, that’s what he says, and he didn’t want to cause commotion in the camp by letting it come to light.

Are you horrible for wishing you had found out now? You would have had this untainted time with Clarisse. You would have loved her. You wouldn’t have had to pretend, because it would be real.

She’s selfish at every turn. She only tells you when it’s convenient for her to tell you, when she knows it’ll ruin it, ruin you, and lose this time together.

Her and her siblings stand next to Chiron.

She stares at you the entire time, and you don’t look at her once.

May hugs you when she hears, and you don’t speak, because how can you speak when everything is wrong? Everything is broken?

The mirror is broken, and what you thought you saw is no longer there. You only see your shattered self.

—-

June 13, 12:38 PM

You lasted maybe 20 minutes. You went to bed early, slept fitfully for a few hours, and woke up gasping about another nightmare- the same one you had the last time you slipped into Clarisse’s bed. You barely remember the nights you have nightmares, but you always know you go to her bed and she holds you, tells you it’s alright.

The dream, anxiously waiting for her to come back, spending your nights alone but warmed by anticipation and hope- and she just doesn’t. She doesn’t, and it all becomes dark and dull in the dreams and they turn into nightmares.

You cry and you scream and you curse the Gods for not bringing her back to you, but no one can hear you. You’re laying in your bed screaming and your siblings are gone, you know Clarisse is, and you feel so alone.

Feeling so alone it makes your bones shaking is terrifying. And you should be used to it. But you got used to Clarisse and her warm body. You got used to her touches, her words, the way she made you feel even just being in her bed- you could always sleep in her bed because she was there.

After she leaves, would anyone notice if you snuck into her bed? Would anyone notice if you laid your head on her pillow and pretended it was her chest? Would anyone notice if you slept in the shirts she left behind?

You last 20 minutes staring at the ceiling before you’re up.

You don’t care if Chiron will catch you. You don’t care if the entire camp will see you, you never did, but a private relationship was nice. It was yours and hers and no one else’s.

Private is different from secret.

Your feet sink into the soft grass, wrapping your arms around yourself, legs freezing in a cold breeze. You stop, looking at the Ares cabin.

The Ares cabin is just a house full of the best fighters at camp. Everyone looks at it and feels a little safer. You look at it and feel safer.

You’re filled with dread but you don’t care, because you know she’ll let you in, you know she’ll let you into her arms.

The door to the Ares cabin whips open.

Clarisse is there, feet turned left, toward you and your cabin behind you.

She stops and stares.

“Sorry,” you breathe. “It’s your last night, and I…”

“I know,” she says.

You step forward, all you want is to forget, all you want is one more peaceful night. As soon as you step up onto the porch Clarisse grabs you and pulls you in tight for a hug.

Her hands are spread wide across your shoulder blades, her body is pressed to yours, her head hooks over your neck.

“You’re so cold,” she whispers, because that’s all you can say when you don’t want to talk about the things that really matter. Of course she’s warm. She’s like your own personal heater, always warm and always comforting.

She lets go after a moment, hesitantly, but winds your fingers into hers. She leads you to your bed, you avoid the freaky floorboards better than her-

“I never have to be quiet in here,” she whispers. “It’s funny.”

You hum, she urges you onto her bed and climbs in behind you. You face the wall, breathing in heavily, shivering as she wraps herself around you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until she was holding you.

You didn’t realize how damaging this relationship was until you were so wrecked by it.

You didn’t realize how much you loved her until she was leaving.

You can feel her wanting to say something.

“Shut up,” you mumble, holding her hand.

She laughs.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

You remember this might be the last time you’ll ever hear her laugh.

This might be the last time she ever holds you.

“Don’t cry, please,” she begs, kissing the back of your head. “If I can’t talk you can’t cry, I hate when you cry.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, shoving your face into her pillow.

“Hey, hey,” she murmurs, flipping you around so you’re facing each other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t think she’s ever apologized this much in her life.

“It hurts me too,” she continues, you press your face into her neck and feel yourself exhale against her warm skin. “If it didn’t have to be like this…”

“It doesn’t,” you mumble. “It doesn’t have to be like this, so don’t let it, Clarisse.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she whispers, her voice cracking just a bit. So quiet only you can hear it because you’re pressed up right against her.

You want to just climb into her, make a home for yourself in between her ribs where you could always feel her heartbeat and always know she’s there.

“Can’t I just come with you?” you cry.

She grabs you a little tighter, like she’s annoyed just by the thought of you being in danger. “No, Y/N. No, you’re going to stay here at camp, and you’ll be safe. I made my siblings promise to look after you, you’ll be okay without me-”

Her siblings are the only ones who know, but that’s only because every once in a while Clarisse won’t let you leave and you’ll oversleep and they’ll see you in her bed.

She swears them all to secrecy and as their cabin leader and their sister, a fellow child of Ares who’s doomed to want someone they can’t have, doomed to hide in the shadows- there’s so many campers who sneak into the Ares cabin at night, and you all ignore it.

There is a certain desperation with demigods and love. Every time could be the last time.

You wish you could swear off love, you wish you could, but Clarisse has you so wrecked you can’t breathe without thinking about her. You run on her, like she’s coffee or sunshine, she’s the IV stuck into your arm, and you don’t want to imagine living without her.

You think of a future without her and it’s just blank.

She holds you tighter and let’s you cry, louder and louder, muffled into her neck. She says she’s sorry but she doesn’t mean it, she can’t, and you don’t care. You can’t care, not right now, not when this is the last time.

“But I’m here right now, okay? I’m here right now, so just listen to my heart.” You grab onto her, trying to keep her here with you- but she won’t. She’ll go. She’ll leave you, and there’s nothing you can do.

You realize with such a startling finality that this is the last time. How deeply you feel it in your heart, not a pain but just an ache, an emptiness- it’s almost beautiful how it washes over you like a wave, like your heart stops and you’re just left a shell.

You breathe in wildly, but you can’t catch your breath, not when she’s half-here, you’re stuck in this hazy reality. Fading in and out. Her heartbeat. Her breath. Her touch. Her voice.

“I’m here right now,” she says. “I’m here right now,” and it’s the last time.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss

—-

DID WE HAVE FUN OR DID WE HAVE FUN?!?!??!??

[pandagyaru]

What we use to be..

Pairing: Jasper x Implied Nonbinary/Male reader (Not really specified but like its a major plot point here that the reader isn't a woman)

Rating: None

Type: Angst to fluff

"Get away from me. I never wanna see you again" The words. His tone. The hatred in his eyes. It still haunts you to your core, even tho it was centuries ago. You'll never forget the way he made you feel that night. You pleaded with him, asked him to give you a reason to his sudden coldness; but he didn't answer. All he did was slam the door in your face and cast you aside, like some poor rabbit you drained the blood of. Now centuries later, you move to a new area. Pretending to be a high school student. You just needed to leave your last home, throwing away everything that you kept to remember him by; all but one thing. A locket he gifted you with a picture of him in it. The picture is old and faded now, yellowed and on the verge of withering away but you keep it dearly, can't bring yourself to part with it. It clings to your neck like a lifeline, you sometimes fidget with it out of habit.

You sit in your classroom alone, the bell hasn't even rang yet but you stare out the window; watching as rain drops race each other to the window sill. Students start pouring into the class, taking their seats. You look over to see a girl with long brown hair sits next to you. She smiles at you and waves awkwardly.

"I'm bella" She says, laying her notebooks down on the desk. You smile at her and raise your hand to her. She takes it.

"Im (Y/N), I just moved here" You state. She chuckles a little and gives you a jokingly weird look.

"out of all places to move, you pick forks? this place is like the last place I'd wanna move" She says, tucking her hair behind her ear. You look away from her and sigh.

"I needed a fresh start, and I quite like the doom and gloom of this place" You half joke, turning to her and smiling wide. You don't know what it is about this girl, but you like her. The bell rings just as the teacher steps in the room, ending yours and Bella's playful chatter.

By the time Lunch rolls around, you're hanging by Bella and her friends. They seem to take a liking to you immediately. You like them also, they bring a nice aura around that you need. That is until, you feel eyes on you. You look around to see gold eyes staring at you. Bella looks over with you.

"Don't mind him, that's my boyfriend Edward" She explains, slowly waving at him. He waves back. but you're not really paying attention him. If you had a heart, it would've stopped again. There sitting next to Edward, was Jasper. He has a pretty brunette attached to his arm, he looks happy. You feel a pang in your chest at the thought, he's over there happy and you can't get over him. You grab a hold of the locket on your chest, rubbing the metal on it to calm yourself. You look away from him, missing the way that Edward gets his attention.

"Do you know them?" Edward asks him, pointing to you. Jasper looks over and thinks. You lift your head a bit to look at Jessica as she compliments your locket. Jasper's eyes snap to it, it looks so familiar to him; yet he can't place it. Then he sees it, the big J carved into it messily. His mouth falls open slightly and he stands up. His chair scrapes the floor slightly and it catches the attention of your whole table. You and Jasper make eye contact, he has no doubt that it's you. You still look the same as the day he lost you, to his own thoughts and insecurities. He walks over to you and grabs your arm, lifting you up and dragging you to an empty room. You try to break free, yelling at him to let go. He pins you to a desk and just stares at you. You push at his chest, God you're lucky you can't cry or you'd be sobbing right now. He grabs your chin and makes you look at him.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers to you. You blink at him and don't answer. He looks so pretty in this light, even when he's practically holding you hostage. He shakes you slightly "ANSWER ME" You flinch and look him in the eyes.

"Why'd you leave me?" You mutter. He breaks eye contact with you and lets go of your wrists. He paces the space in front of you.

"it was 1861, people weren't exactly open to what we were back then" He mutters, but you catch it. Of course you do.

"We could've worked it out! Clearly were both here now! We could've lasted Jasper!" You yell at him. He looks over at you, slamming you into the desk again.

"Did you suspect we'd both be here now? 142 years later?!" He shouts in your face. You look down.

"No, I never thought i'd see you again. I thought you'd only live on as a memory or a photo I kept" You whisper. He looks down at the locket, he grips it and opens it. There it is, a picture of a 17 year old him. He stares at it and then looks at you. He grabs your face, kissing you. You freeze and stare at him. Slowly your eyes close and wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. That is until you remember the girl that was attached to him, you push him away; wiping your mouth.

"What about the girl that was hanging onto your arm?!" You say, staring him down. He looks at you, thinking and then he starts laughing at you.

"That girl is one of my sisters, I swear nothing like that is going on. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you. ever since that day I lost you, due to my own selfishness" He says, grabbing you and just embracing you. You lean into him and hug him back.

"We'll be okay?" You ask. He looks at you.

"We'll be okay"

So uhm, how was that? I've got bad Twilight brain rn and I think its cause its fall. Yes, they are implied to be a fated pair, even before they were turned. also I'm sorry if its bad, I haven't written in forever.

LOVE YA

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Command Me 1/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader //

oc!brandon stark x strong!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother thinks it’s best you marry sooner rather than later and betrothes you to a man you’ve never met from the north. The only say you have in your life at the moment is picking out a sworn protector. Your marriage leaves you unhappy and unfulfilled and Benji has no problem helping in anyway he can. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of murder, arranged marriage, wine, age gap, marriage duties, unhappy marriage, moon tea, cheating, oral(f receiving), p in v, bit angsty ngl

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, no explicit detail of oc!stark and y/n intimate moments

Word Count: 5.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My ears start ringing as my mother’s words start to float around my head. I focus on my breathing as I feel like I’m gasping for air. The council members nod around the table as I can hear the blood pumping throughout my body. She places her hand on mine and looks to me expectantly. 

“What?” I shake my head confused. 

“I asked if you wanted to travel back with Cregan to meet your betrothed.” she says with a smile that tells me I’ll have a scolding later. 

“Absolutely not.” I take my hand from hers and place it in my lap. 

“That is fine, Princess. My uncle won’t mind coming down here for you.” he offers me a smile that doesn’t seem genuine. 

“He shouldn’t since he’s my king consort.” I scoff. 

“Y/n.” my mothers tone low and warning. 

“I await his arrival in anticipation, my Lord.” I nod my head and push my chair back against the stone. If looks could kill my mother would have me stringed up against the council chamber walls. I walk out of the hall and practically start sprinting out of the castle. 

“Princess!” guards shout after me as I take a horse from the courtyard and gallop into the city. The city folk move out of my way as I race to the pits. I abandon the horse outside and call for the dragon keepers to wake my dragon. The ground begins to shutter as my dragon emerges. 

“Hello my handsome boy.” I coo as he pushes into me. I admire his black scales that simmer the brightest lilac in the sun and begin to mount. Once my clips are in place he’s running us out of the pit as we both share the sentiment to get out of this city. As we fly over Kings Landing my dragon gives a fearsome cry and we shoot off to the Kings Wood. 

The breeze flows through my hair and I finally feel some relief. I lean down and hug my dragon as he offers me a deep rumble. I beat my mother by two years for youngest dragon rider. I was five when I first mounted him and he brought us about the city giving high pitched screeches at the common folk. Ever since then we would disappear for a week or more to just fly and explore.

She would send countless parties in search of me but we quickly found caves that would keep us hidden. She’s learned where I go now so I decide to just stick to the Kings Wood to avoid the yelling I’m sure to receive. We land in the cover of the tree canopies by the lake and sprawl out in the sun. I rest my head on his tail as he buries his head into the tall grass scaring away the mice and bugs. 

“I can’t believe she would marry me off to some old northerner.” I sigh looking up at the clouds. My dragon offers me a deep chuff. 

I hear the high pitched dragon call before I see him. As Caraxes comes into view I sigh at her sending him. She knows that we butt heads like bulls so I’m not sure what she’s expecting from this. Daemon lands and begins to walk over to me and my dragon raises his head and bares his teeth. 

“Relax, mother would kill me.” I pat my dragons thigh chuckling and look to Daemon expectantly. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not my child.” he chuckles as he approaches. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. You never raised me and still don’t.” I look up to him from the ground intent on staying where I am. 

“Fair enough,” he sits on the ground and looks to me with a taunting smile. 

“What?” I snap sitting up. 

“Your mother wants you back at the Keep. She wants you to pick out a sworn protector for yourself.” he studies me as I roll my eyes. 

“As if I’ll have a choice in the matter.” I push myself up and my dragon rises behind me. I mount him and leave Daemon behind at the lake. When I land back at the pits my mother is there waiting for me with a furrowed brow. The carriage ride back to the Keep is silent and when we stop in the inner courtyard I try to run off to my chambers but she stops me. 

“What’s wrong?” she searches my eyes. 

“I don’t want to marry some second son from the north who I’ve never met and you think allowing me to pick a sworn protector will fix that?” I rise my hands at a loss. 

“Into the Keep now.” she says lowly and I see the eyes on us from around the grounds. She brings us into her solar and I huff sitting on the couch. 

“You remind me so much of my younger self.” she hums with a soft smile. 

“Mm,” I nod my head wanting to be back with my dragon or in my chambers. 

“You may find love with Brandon.” my mother tries to hide her wince. 

“So that’s his name. How bland. Brandon the Bland I should call him.” I groan throwing my head back against the couch. 

“Y/n I worked hard to make this match. You will treat him with respect. He comes from an honorable and noble house.” her voice starts rising. 

“I don’t care if he’s noble,” I shake my head angry. “I don’t know him, I don’t want him,” I feel tears start forming and I wipe them away frustrated with the world.

“Sweet girl,” 

“Don’t sweet girl me.” I rise from the couch. “I’m tempted to get in my dragon and flee to where you’ll never find me.” I run out of her chambers and straight into Jace. I push him back and he calls after me. 

I seal myself in my chambers and let my tears flow freely. I don’t care about a husband or a sworn protector. I don’t care about the crown or ruling. I hear the whispers everyday about who my father is and how dark my hair is. I don’t want to be ridiculed for the entirety of my rule especially with some man who doesn’t even know me. 

“I’m not here to baby you. Get up and let’s go.” Daemons voice comes from the other side of the door. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I yell back through the wood. He pushes the door open harshly and grabs my arm pulling me with him. 

“Your mother has been inviting these knights here for well over a moon. You will not embarrass her.” he says through his teeth pulling me down the stairs. I start to push and hit his hand off as the servants in the hall advert their eyes from our spat. We stumble down the rest of the stairs and we stare at each other waiting to see what the other does. I go to pull my arm back and he pulls me closer with a scowl on his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” I spit out at him. 

“You’re causing a scene.” he tugs me along to the hall and as we enter all of the knights turn to look at me. I push Daemon off of me and look over the men before me with a raised chin and a death glare. 

“Leave.” I wave off Daemon and the men before me look at the ground as if it’s the most interesting. 

“Step forward if you’re from Kings Landing or the Queens guard.” I hum and a handful of men step forward. “You are dismissed.” I nod them to the door and they look at me with their mouth agape and I look at the five remaining men. 

“If you are from the north step forward.” two men slowly step forward. “You are dismissed.” I look over them unamused. 

“You three are the only remaining.” I offer them a serpentine smile. “Tell me why I should choose you.” I take a seat and watch them look at me. 

“I am a Dornish Swordsman and trained along side Ser Criston-“ 

“A mistake. You are dismissed.” I wave him off and place my head in my hand bored. “Next.”

“Princess,” the man older than Daemon nods his head. “I trained this young man here. He was recently knighted and easily my best student. Anything and everything he knows, I taught him.” he sounds proud. 

“So the most obvious choice is him then? You’re old and withering and he’s young,” I look over the man next to him who only seems to be a handful of years older than me. “Did you even come here to try for a place as my sworn protector?” I look over the old man. 

“I- Princess, I’m-“ 

“Enough,” I wave him off. “You’re dismissed.” 

I turn my head back to the man in front of me and tilt my head. I study him with squinted eyes and can see that he has the muscle required for this job. He’s easy on the eyes which will be a welcome reprieve if my betrothed isn’t. He stands with a puffed out chest and confidence pouring off of him and I rise and walk in front of him. I look up to him and he nods his head down to me. 

“Tell me your name.” I look into his eyes and smile when I see no fear. 

“Ser Benjicot Blackwood.” his voice flows through my ears like honey. 

“Mm a Riverman,” I smile. “I’ve had some great times in taverns outside Raventree Hall when I was on the run.” I chuckle thinking back. 

“On the run from what, my Princess?” he offers me a soft smile. 

“My life and duties.” I shrug. “It looks like you’re the last knight standing Benji.” his spine straightens at the name. 

“It seems that I am.” he nods chewing his lip, the only sign that he has some nerves about being dismissed. 

“Then you shall be my new sworn protector.” a smile pulls across my face as his shoulders relax and he returns my smile. 

“Y/n,” my mother bursts into the hall in a rampage. 

“I’ve chosen Benji.” I turn to her with a smile and she looks him over. 

“You didn’t even give the other men a chance.” she seethes. “Why must everything be like this with you?” she sighs shaking her head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today is the day Brandon gets to Kings Landing and I try to convince the maester I’m sick and can’t meet him. He knows my antics and deems me healthy. I’m being tied into a gown as pins are being stuck into my head holding my braids in place. I kick my handmaidens out after hours saying I just needed a moment to myself and I’ll be down shortly. 

“Are you ready, Princess?” Benjis voice comes through my doors. 

“Can you come in?” my voice soft and he slips into my chambers leaving the door open. 

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he looks over my dress and I see him swallow before his eyes make his way to mine. 

“Did you see him?” my voice hushed. 

“I did.” he nods standing up straighter. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” I pick at my nails. 

“I don’t know how to answer that.” he says clearing his throat. 

“Benji,” I whine. “It’s simple. Does he look old and decrepit or does he look like you?” his eyes snap to mine and I smirk at him. 

“Your betrothed is waiting for you, Princess.” he turns to walk out of my chambers and I sigh and walk to his side. 

As we make our way down to the main hall I groan and drag my feet. Benji chuckles and slows his pace to stay with me. Over the past moon I’m thankful everyday to this man for traveling here to become my sworn protector. He jokes with me and keeps me company. He is also handsome which I never cease to remind him as his cheeks tint. 

“If I asked you to kill my betrothed would you?” I whisper to Benji. 

“It is my duty to do anything you ask of me.” he nods his head and I smile. 

As we walk into the hall my stomach drops as my eyes land on Brandon. My mother can’t possibly be serious. This man has to have almost two decades on me. I find my mother and I scrunch my eyebrows at her and begin walking to her. 

“Princess,” a gruff voice stops my feet as I turn to Brandon who is looking over my body like a starved man. I step back into Benji and he steadies me. 

“You’re Brandon I presume?” I raise my eyebrow looking up to him. 

“I am.” he grabs my hand much to my horror and places a wet kiss on it. 

“How kind.” I hope my disgust isn’t written over my face. 

“Y/n,” my mother’s worried voice calls me over to her side and I’m practically sprinting to her. 

“I would rather die than marry that man.” I hiss to my mother. 

“That’s enough. You will be married by the end of this moon and that’s final.” I feel so stuck and I turn and see that Brandon is walking back over here. 

“Could I offer you a walk through the gardens, Princess?” Brandon offers me his and I stare at it and look to my mother who nods encouragingly. 

“Sure,” I sigh. “Benji let’s go.” I nod my head for him to follow. 

“Your dog doesn’t need to come with.” Brandon chuckles and I cement my feet. 

“He is not my dog. You will treat my sworn protector with respect or I’ll have him take your tongue.” I look over Brandon who is smiling. 

“Feisty, I like it.” he smiles grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the hall. 

It takes all of my strength not to rip my arm out of his hand. I lead us to the gardens and the silence is anything but comfortable. I look at Brandon out of the corner of my eye and see his years written on his wrinkled forehead. I shiver of disgust runs through me as we enter the gardens. He leads us to the nearest table and sits down and I take a place across from him. 

“You are more beautiful than Cregan lead on.” he hums licking his lips. 

“Did he say anything else?” I drawl looking him over. 

“That I would probably have to wear you down a bit but that’s not an issue, I have great stamina.” he winks at me and I know there’s no hiding the horror on my face. “Mm tell me, do you still have your maidenhead?” his smile makes me feel disgusting. 

“Is that anyway to speak to a Princess?” Benjis voice just short of a growl. 

“She’s to be my wife, boy.” Brandon looks over him and turns his eyes back to me. “Well do you or are you sullied?” 

“I do.” my voice barely a whisper as I feel my cheeks heat. 

“There’s one plus.” he leans back in his seat and looks me over. “I thought you Targaryens were supposed to have silver hair?” he tilts his head. 

“The Gods are mysterious.” I clench my jaw. How could my mother do this to me? I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise but she can’t possibly think I will be willing to wed this man. My heart starts to beat rapidly and I’m getting overwhelmed. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” Brandon narrows his eyes at me. 

“Benji can you take me to the maester? I feel faint.” I reach for his arm and he’s bending down and helping me to my feet instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” Benjis voice is rushed as he searches my face. 

“I’m hot and I just can’t breathe.” I all but gasp as we make it into the Keep. 

“Just a bit further, Y/n.” he keeps a steady hand around my waist and on out for me to hold on to. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I sigh in relief as we make it to the maesters chambers. 

“Princess what’s wrong?” the maester helps me lay on the bed. 

“She said she’s overheating and her breathing was heavy.” Benji says brushing my hair back. 

“Were you doing something strenuous?” the maester asks as he fills me a glass of water. 

“No, I was just-“ 

“What’s happened?” my mother bursts into the room. 

“Mother,” my voice breaks as I reach out to her. “Please, don’t make me, please,” I start crying and Benji and the maester look worried. 

“What do you mean sweet girl?” she shushes me kneeling at my side. 

“I’ll be better,” I hiccup. “Don’t make me marry that old man, please, mother.” a tear slips down my cheek. 

“Leave us.” she waves her hand at Benji and the maester who are shutting the door behind them quickly. “What possibly could’ve happened?” she sits back looking over my state. 

“He made remarks about bedding me and he made remarks about who my father was.” I sit up looking to her with pleading eyes. “Mother please,” I feel the tears start to well up. 

“Just give it a chance. Maybe he was just excited to see such a beautiful young woman.” she offers me a smile and I sigh knowing I don’t have a choice. 

“I will keep Benji with me. I don’t want to be alone with Brandon.” I shake my head furrowing my brows. 

“Of course you two shouldn’t be alone before you wed.” she nods her head. 

“I don’t want to wed him mother, please.” my voice breaking again as I continue to plead.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It feels as if there are rocks in my stomach as I’m twirled around the dance floor. Brandon pulls me back against him and dips down to my ear. His tongue trails along the outer shell and I try to pull back but he holds me firm. When he lifts his head he chuckles at my red cheeks and the crowd claps as our dance ends. 

“Go get a drink and stop being so uptight.” I slip into the crowd trying to keep a smile pinned on my face as I head to find wine. Gods know I’ll need it for tonight. I can’t believe my mother made me go through with this. 

The servant offers me a fresh glass and congratulations on my marriage and I smile and nod. I walk to the outskirts of the crowd and try to calm my nerves. I focus on my breathing and let the hall and celebrations fade away. 

“I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely divine, Princess. I know it’s not my place but I needed to tell you.” Benjis voice is barely a whisper as I turn to him. 

“I wish I wed you tonight.” I feel the tears form and ready to fall. 

“Princess,” Benjis voice strained. 

“I know,” I shake my head wiping my eyes. “Just don’t leave me, please.” my eyes pleading. 

“Anything you ask.” he nods his head. “I am sworn to you.” 

“Thank you.” I finish my glass of wine and head back over to Brandon. 

“Feeling better?” Brandon pulls me against him.

“Much.” I smile trying to pretend I’m not repulsed at his touch. 

“The Princess and I will retire for the night.” he announces loudly and there are rowdy cheers that follow. I feel like my legs are about to give out as he starts to pull me off the dais. I search frantically around the hall for Benji even though I know he can’t stop what’s to come. 

“I’ll escort you both.” Benji comes behind us as Brandon chuckles. 

“Do you expect to witness the act itself too, boy?” Brandon roars out a laugh. 

“No.” I say quickly. 

“Embarrassed, my innocent wife?” I feel my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue deciding to stay silent. We stop outside of his chambers and he pulls me inside sealing the door leaving Benji on the other side. 

I knew what tonight was going to entail but I had hoped he would’ve been more kind and caring of my needs and wants. I performed my duty as best as I could but it didn’t make it any more enjoyable or less painful. He pulls me up from the bed and pushes me out of his doors leaving me in the halls in my slip holding my wedding dress. I look down at the stone floor as it cools my bare feet. 

“Princess?” Benjis voice is soft as he stands in front of me. 

“Can you please take me back to my chambers?” I whisper continuing to look down. 

He pulls his cape off and wraps it around me. I drop my wedding gown outside Brandon’s chambers as I cling to the cape. As we start up the stairs I wince at the pain between my thighs. We make it to my chambers and a sob of relief bubbles out of me. I turn towards Benji to thank him and see that his jaw is set and he looks ready to murder someone. 

“I need you to command me to stay right here. In this exact spot. Or I will walk down those stairs and make you a widow.” I can feel his temper rising around us and I’m tempted to let him make me a widow this very second but this isn’t a decision to be made in haste.

“I need you here with me. I need you to find a servant to bring me water for a bath and I need you to do something with discretion.” my voice hushed as I look around the halls. 

“Anything.” he nods his head searching my eyes. 

“Go to the maester. Offer him good coin for his silence. Say you had a lapse in judgment and slept with a maid and you need moon tea. Please Benji, I can’t have his child.” I beg. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Brandon pushes me outside of his chambers again and I see Benji clenching his fists. He falls into step beside me as we walk silently back to my chambers. I gave up on wearing slippers to his chambers because the cool stone on the walk back helps ground me. This has been happening once every fortnight for the past three moons and I either have Benji or my personal handmaiden retrieve my moon tea. 

“I’ll be back with the tea.” Benji says lowly leaving me at my chamber doors. 

“Benji I don’t need,” I stutter. “He made me suck-“ I shake my head feeling my cheeks burn and I hear him deeply inhale. 

“Princess,” his voice like gravel as his eyes slide to mine. 

“Can you just come in with me?” my voice barely audible as I hold my door open. He sighs and follows allowing the door to shut behind us. 

“What can I do for you?” he stands at my doors back ridged. 

“I just need you to be here with me,” I sit and he claims the chair furthest from me. “Do you find me repulsive now that I’m sullied?” I don’t mean for my words to sound as pathetic as they do. 

“I could never find you repulsive.” he replies quickly. “I think you’re the most ethereal being I’ve ever met.” his voice laced with reverence. 

“Why do you think my husband wants to cause me so much pain? Or is that how it’s supposed to feel? I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I fidget my fingers and hear his sharp inhale. 

“It wouldn’t hurt if he was worshiping you properly. He’s a fool he should have his face buried,” he stops himself and finds his composure. “I’m sorry, please forgive my words Princess.” 

“The only place his face is buried is my neck as he ruts into me. I used to try to think of someone else in hopes that it would make it more pleasurable but when that didn’t help I just learned to keep my eyes squeezed shut and toss out a couple fake moans.” I should feel embarrassed to be divulging this to Benji but it feels so relieving to talk to someone about it. 

“He should be able to tell the difference.” he shakes his head as I see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair. 

“I don’t know I can be convincing.” I allow myself to chuckle.  “Yeah, so good,” I moan followed by a whimper and I burst out in giggles as Benjis head snaps up to me. 

“Has he made you come?” his dark eyes search my face. 

“No.” I shake my head as my blush revives on my neck. “He just uses me and throws me out of his chambers. I could live with it if I at least got that relief but I just get to walk back to my chambers and go to bed.” I sigh leaning back in the chair. 

“Can I, I want to,” he bites his lip turning away. “I should let you rest for the night.” he starts to stand. 

“Say it.” I nod my head prompting him. 

“Can I make you come?” my heart skips at his words and I nod my head quickly. “I need to hear you say it.” his voice wrecked. 

“Can you please make me come, Benji?” I bat my eyelashes at him. He rises from the chair and stalks over to me. He towers over me before he kneels before me and begins to trail his hands up my legs spreading them. My cheeks burn as my core is exposed to his face and he looks up to me with hooded eyes. 

“Has he ever kissed you here before?” he asks propping my legs on his shoulders. 

“No,” I shake my head gasping at the coolness of his metal armor on my calves. 

“May I?” he looks up to me as he places soft kisses on the inside of my thighs. 

“Please Benji,” I reply breathlessly. 

He licks up my slit and my chest heaves. His tongue circles my neglected bud and I push my hips into his mouth. Whimpers pour from my mouth as he pulls me flush against his face. He moans into my center as my hips grind against him. I brush against his nose and I moan loudly burying my hand in his hair holding him close. I continue to buck against him as he laps at me. 

“Benji, I-“ I sob as pleasure washes over me and his tongue continues to work me through it. He pulls back and looks up to me with a smile on his face. 

“Those moans sounded nothing like what you did before.” his words laced with confidence. 

“I want to come again.” I say still trying to catch my breath. 

“As you command, Princess.” he dips back between my legs. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Benji is walking me back to my chambers after a particularly rough night with Brandon. I’m starting to loathe my husband more than I thought possible. Benji follows me into my chambers and seals the doors behind us. 

“Your handmaiden should be back with the tea shortly.” he sits on a chair in front of me trying to gauge my emotions. 

“Would you still kill him if I asked?” I look up to him and he nods. 

“Just say the word.” he searches my eyes. 

“Maybe we use poison or something so they won’t know it’s you.” I nibble on my lip trying to come up with a plan. 

“It’d have to be one that would make him suffer. He doesn’t deserve an easy way out.” he shakes his head working himself up. 

“Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.” I look to him and stand as there’s a soft knock at my door. “Thank you.” I smile at my handmaiden and click the door shut once again. I drain the contents of the cup and join Benji on the chairs again. 

“When do you want him dead?” his tone low as he watches my slip rise up. 

“As soon as possible. I can’t take it anymore.” I sigh stretching. “You can say no because I know where I just came from but can you make me feel good Benji? I want to forget everything.” I slide my eyes to him. 

“I will always want you.” he starts to rise from his chair. 

“I need you, Benji. Show me how good it can feel.” I plead as I pull him over to the bed. 

We start to remove his armor and when I finally lift off his shirt and feel his bare chest I groan. He pulls my slip above my head and leaves me bare before him. He pulls me into a kiss and I melt into him as our chests mold together. I unlace his trousers and he begins to kick them off. We fall back onto the bed and I feel his hardness pressed against my leg. I buck against him waiting for him to push into me. 

“There’s no rush, I’m taking my time with you.” he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. He licks across them and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I gasp as he swirls his tongue around my hardened peak and my nails hold onto his back. He chuckles and moves the next to offer it the same attention. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he grazes his teeth across my nipple before pulling up. 

“There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you, Princess.” he kisses down my navel and I buck my hips in anticipation. “Do you wanna come?” he chuckles pressing my hips into the bed. 

“Please Benji,” I cry out as his lips attach to my bud. 

As he circles his tongue I feel his fingers glide through my wetness and I squirm. He slips two fingers into my core and I whine squeezing my thighs around his head. When he curls his fingers I feel my high building in my lower stomach. My whines become more high pitched the faster he pumps his fingers. 

“Benji right there, yes,” I gasp as I come undone. He slowly comes back up my body trailing soft kisses. “I need you in me.” I wrap my legs around his waist. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point.” his eyes look to mine and I nod kissing him softly. 

He slowly pushes in and I whimper at his stretch. He slowly rocks his hips into me as I mewl clinging to him. He rolls his hips and a broken moan falls from my lips. The difference is absolutely mind blowing. The pleasure he is pulling from my body has me feeling as if I’m flying through the sky. 

“How does it feel, Princess?” Benji rasps as I clench around him. 

“I’m so full of you, Benji.” I gasp holding him closer. He starts to pump into me at a quicker pace and my eyes roll back. His fingers find my throbbing bud causing his name to fall from my lips like a prayer. I pulse around him losing myself to my pleasure and I feel him begin to fill me. He slides out of me and pulls me against his chest kissing my face and smoothing my hair. I feel safe and loved in his arms.

“I’m gunna kill your husband tomorrow.” he promises as he rests his forehead on mine. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I capture his lips as we get lost in each other once more. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

Part Two

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n