#I think golden power is so powerful but at the same thing as having a programming program and no idea how to code

[callsign-fox]

Hard to Measure - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings! Sentry meets his match, some tension.

So many more to come...have any ideas? Let me know HEREx

Thanks for all the love, I love you guys xo

Bob slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a crater in the pavement.

Not because he landed.

Because someone put him there.

The world tilted for a second, sound ringing in his ears like a struck bell. Smoke curled into the air. His ribs throbbed with a deep, unfamiliar ache. He blinked through the haze, dazed in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then came the laugh — light and amused.

“Seriously?” a voice rang out. “That’s Sentry? I was expecting more.”

Bob groaned before looking up to see her.

She descended slowly, feet touching the ground softly. She was surrounded by a shimmer of telekinetic energy that warped the air like heat off asphalt. Dressed in radiant white, her cape-skirt billowed, gold shoulder armor resembling wings. Power crackled at her fingertips like it had always belonged there.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, rising slowly.

She grinned, all teeth and trouble. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His brow creased. “Bucky didn’t mention you.”

“Funny, that,” she said with a lopsided smile. “He tends to underestimate me.”

She vanished — then reappeared behind him like a ripple in the atmosphere. Bob spun too late, caught midair by an invisible force that yanked him upward like a marionette.

“Okay,” he grunted, straining against the hold. “When I get out of this, you’re in for a lot of pain.”

Y/N cocked her head. “Is that a promise?”

A golden flare lit across his body — radiant and sharp. With a thundercrack of energy, he shattered the telekinetic grip, blasting free. Trees tore from the ground, the shockwave rippling outward. He hovered midair, golden eyes locked on her now, focused and alert.

“You’re strong,” he said.

She gave a casual shrug, unimpressed. “You’re slow.”

He smirked. “Am I?”

This time, he moved first — a blur of light and speed. His fist connected midair, a clean strike that sent her tumbling through the sky. She righted herself quickly, laughing under her breath as she rubbed her ribs.

“There it is,” she said. “Was wondering when you’d finally ask me to dance.”

“That was a punch.”

“Same thing.”

She vanished again — reappearing above him. Her boot slammed into his stomach, driving him into the pavement hard enough to split the asphalt. She pressed her heel to his chest, pinning him in place.

“How’s the view from down there, golden boy?”

He groaned, half-laughing. “You’re fast and flirty. Dangerous combination.”

She lifted her boot and stepped back, light crackling around her. “I’ve been told to back down. Lucky you.”

He stood, brushing dust from his suit, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve probably had more practice than me. I’m still getting used to this body.”

“Me too,” she said, flashing a grin and a wink.

Then she was gone — vanishing in a rush of displaced air, her voice trailing behind like an echo:

“Try to keep up.”

Bob stood there a moment, golden light still flickering faintly around him. A hundred thoughts swirled in his head, but only one made it to his lips — a slow, amused smile tugging at the corner.

Bucky definitely left her out on purpose.

~

The road cracked as Bob landed beside Bucky and Yelena, the impact sending a ripple through the dust and debris. Golden light still shimmered faintly around him, but his jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the spot where Sam Wilson stood — waiting for her to appear.

“You good?” Yelena asked, casually scanning him for blood. “You look like you got hit by a meteor.”

“She hits hard,” Bob muttered, rolling his shoulders with a wince.

“I told you to be careful,” Bucky said, flexing his metal arm. “Didn’t think she’d reveal herself this soon.”

“You could’ve at least warned me.”

Yelena smirked. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

“Look, Buck,” Sam called over, his tone half-apologetic. “We can talk more about this Avengers thing later. I didn’t mean for your new guy to get his ass handed to him. Hope he’s alright.”

Bucky shrugged, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice. “Define ‘alright.’”

Before anyone could answer, a shimmer sliced through the air — heat warping reality — and she appeared beside Sam with a grace that made gravity look like a formality.

“Speak of the devil,” Bucky muttered. “Nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” she said smoothly. Her eyes locked onto Bob. She didn’t blink.

The atmosphere shifted — subtle, quiet — but undeniable. Everyone felt it.

Bob stepped forward. His posture was easy, but the power still hummed beneath his skin.

“I’m not used to being surprised,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

“No one’s ever caught me off guard like that.”

“No one’s ever kept up with me,” she replied, the edge in her voice wrapped in velvet and steel.

Walker strode over, arms crossed, jaw clenched like always. “You’re supposed to be stronger than all the Avengers,” he said, nodding at Bob. “Avengers-level-plus, right? What the hell happened?”

Bob didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on her. “She’s not exactly easy to measure.”

Y/N glanced down at her boots to hide the smirk, but he caught it — and his chest burned a little warmer.

Yelena raised a brow. “Also, she’s not technically an Avenger.”

Bob shot her a look. “You’re not helping.”

“I never said I was,” Yelena replied sweetly.

Bob huffed a dry laugh, then stepped a little closer to Y/N, his voice dipping just for her.

“So what are we, then? Even?”

“Not even close.”

He tilted his head. “You planning to settle the score?”

“Do you think you can handle a rematch?”

His grin was slow, a little wicked. “Sweetheart, I’m hoping for one.”

“You ready to get knocked on your ass again?”

He leaned in, voice like a spark just before the fire. “Depends. Are we still talking about fighting?”

She held his gaze. “You tell me.”

His eyes moved over her — not crude, not shy — just present. Interested. Deeply, recklessly interested.

“You’re lethal when you flirt,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t flirting,” she said. “Yet.”

The silence crackled — taut and electric, like the moment just before a storm breaks.

Sam glanced between them, then leaned in to whisper something to Joaquin.

Bob tilted his head, gold flickering behind his eyes. “Then I should warn you — I won’t be holding anything back.”

Y/N’s lips curved. “Good,” she murmured, brushing past him. “I like it rough.”

He watched her go, a rare mix of awe and amusement tugging at his features.

Bucky, who had definitely been listening, muttered to Sam out of the corner of his mouth, “This is gonna be a nightmare.”

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r. | 3

Robert “Bob” Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of void. But otherwise tooth rotting fluff.

Author’s Note: Technically the end of the story. But I’m sure I’ll write more about her and Bob over the course of those 14 months soon

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

“You’re all idiots, just come up stairs,” Valentina’s voice echoes through the main floor of the old Avengers Tower. 

The Thunderbolts –as Alexei decided they would be called –glanced at each other wearily. Bucky doesn’t trust a thing that comes out of Valentina’s mouth. Not a goddamn word. But her agents have stood down, and there’s a clear path to the elevator. And he really needs to save his assistant. And Bob. 

He’s getting too old for this shit, honestly.

When the doors open, Valentina immediately starts spouting her usual bullshit.

“How crazy is it to think about all of the…monumental fights that happened exactly here, where you’re standing?” She spouts, pouring herself a glass of champagne as the team approaches. “I mean, the place wasn’t cheap. But it’s got good optics.” She pauses, looking up finally and smiling at all of them. 

“This ends today,” Bucky says, stepping forward in front of the rest of them.

“Congressman Barnes. You know, I never really thought you’d have a promising political career –but less than half a term? Yikes.”

“We’re taking you in, Val,” Walker cuts in, rolling his eyes. 

Valentina scoffs though, setting her glass down. “I don’t think so, junior varsity Captain America.”

Bucky is trying to get eyes on his assistant; he knows she’s here. She has to be. Same with Mel. But Walker goes to pull his gun and Bucky snaps at him. “Walker.”

Valentina just smiles, knowing that Bucky isn’t going to let her get killed by any of them. He wants to let them; he understands. But he needs de Fontaine alive –he needs her to face consequences the right way or everything he’s done –everything he’s trying to do –will mean nothing. 

“Nice to see you, Ava –and Yelena. Wow. You look…awful. You sure you’re ready for that public facing role you asked me about?”

Yelena sneers, stepping around Bucky now herself. “Eat shit, Valentina. Where’s Bob?”

“And Bucky’s assistant,” Walker interjects. Bucky narrows his eyes, reminding them she has a goddamn name.

But Valentina just chuckles again, like all of this is some big joke. “Look at you. You are all so adorable. Just think –I send you down there to kill each other and instead, you make nice and form a team!”

“Where are they?” Ava asks one more time, but her tone is clipped. They’re all about ready to pounce.

“They’re both fine. Working together, actually. I told you, Congressman Barnes –your girl is a swiss army knife. She’s got talents far beyond what you give her credit for. Robert?”

There’s a pause –just long enough that they can hear footsteps. Heels clicking behind boots. Then Bucky feels it –that tingle at the base of his skull. The uncomfortable pin pricks of her getting into his head. He looks around, noticing everyone else feels it too –except Valentina.

Don’t freak out, she says, Well, not about me. I would freak out about Bob. I wouldn’t fight him.

Walker is about to say something but Ava is the one that catches on that it’s their heads first. Don’t worry about fighting. You’ll get out of here soon.

She’s about to say something, Bucky can tell, but Valentina is talking again.

“Years of hard work have finally come to fruition,” she explains, motioning to Bob who comes to stand beside the director. Behind him stands Bucky’s assistant, who is shifting uneasily as she stares up at Bob. She doesn’t look scared –not of Bob, at least. She looks…worried. “Stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He has the power of a thousand exploding suns –Earth’s mightiest hero. The Golden Guardian of Good. The Sentry.”

Bucky can’t help but make a face at all of this posturing. “I’ll bite –what do you plan to do now? Take over the world like every other bad guy?”

But the director scoffs again, shaking her head. “Oh, god no. Robert here –Sentry, as he’s aptly named –is a hero, James. He’s going to protect the world. Where the Avengers have failed, he will succeed.” She turns to Bob now, putting a careful hand on his arm. Bucky notes that she almost flinches, like she’s expecting something bad to happen when she touches him. But nothing seems to happen. “Robert, take care of them, will you?” 

Bob looks down at Valentina for a moment, then glances back at the young woman behind him. Like he’s waiting for her permission. But she doesn’t make a motion one way or another, fear freezing her finally. Bucky knows that look; it’s the same look she had when she came in six months ago after being cornered and he decided to teach her to fight. 

Cornered. Frustrated. Powerless.

“C’mon guys –just give yourselves up. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Do not fight him. You will not win, she insists as Valentina steps back, pulling her along. But that falls on deaf ears as a dogfight breaks out. Bucky can’t keep track of how many punches he throws or how many knives he breaks. Walker’s shield is twisted into him and he’s thrown across the room. Every punch, every shot, every attack –it’s like they’re nothing. The guy doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t bruise, he doesn’t bleed. 

But they do.

All of them do.

He only stops when she cries out as Bucky’s arm is ripped off his shoulder and thrown to the ground. She’s shoving away from Valentina, finally putting the skills Bucky has taught her to some use to throw Valentina off balance and twist out of her grip. Bob watches as she throws down the files that she’s been forced to carry and drops down to grab her boss’s arm. The rest of them are rushing to the elevator, trying to get away as fast as they can. But she’s hesitating, looking between Bob and her boss –her friend. 

Don’t hurt them, she says but her lips aren’t moving. Bob realizes –that tingle at the base of his skull –it’s her. Please.

Yelena is yanking her into the elevator, but she’s trying to look at him with pleading eyes as the doors shut. Please.

But she hears him –a voice, distorted. Dark. Shadowed in his mind but loud enough in her own that she can feel it in her very bones.

They always leave. Even when they promise they won’t.

When they get to the ground floor –and they’re sure that Bob is not going to come finish them off –Bucky turns on her.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? What did I tell you about getting closer to Valentina?”

She flinches back, not expecting to be scolded after the events of the last few days. “I wasn’t thinking –I was talking to Mel –,”

“You’re right. You weren’t thinking. You could have been killed.”

“Hey, hey –do not yell at her,” Yelena cuts in, stepping between her and Bucky. The Russian puts her hand up. “She did not know she was going to be kidnapped –she was doing her job. Which –by the way –you taught her to do. So it is technically your fault.”

“Oh no –,” she starts, shaking her head quickly.

“It is not my fault –,”

She shushes them all suddenly, throwing her hands out to the sides. Everyone is staring at her like she’s insane, but she’s staring like she’s listening intently to something. Ava says something, tries to get her attention, but she waves her away. 

“Something’s wrong,” she says, spinning around several times. 

Her eyes lock into the sky just beside the tower –a shadowed, caped figure. She wants to think it’s not something evil –it’s not Bob, it can’t be. Deep down, though, she recognizes this figure. She’s seen it in his mind before –and those eyes. The only part of the figure that’s not casted in shadows –two white, glowing spots that look directly into the soul –are staring down at them.

He puts his hand out and the helicopter that is circling spins out of control suddenly, crashing into the tower. One by one, people around them disappear into shadows themselves, and she tries to step forward –tries to save someone; anyone. But Alexei holds her back gently. Bucky and Alexei stand on either side of her, looking up in horror as Yelena steps forward with Ava. Walker is pulling off his helmet, following their gazes as shadows creep up the buildings surrounding the engulfed tower. 

“You all know the truth,” he says. And it’s Bob’s voice –she knows it. But it’s distorted and full of anger. The same voice she heard earlier –the one that told Bob that they always leave. “You can’t outrun the emptiness.”

“I think Bob’s dark side got superpowers,” Walker states, eyes wide as they all stare in horror. “We need to get everyone off the streets.”

They’re all too distracted to notice that she does not follow them. That she stays planted in place, looking up at the figure that is slowly creeping its way towards her as the shadows begin to consume those around it. Vaguely, she registers that Bucky is yelling her name but she ignores him as she takes half a step forward towards the shadows.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave,” he says, peering down at her. “You did though. You left. Just like Yelena said –we’re all alone in the end.”

Bucky is screaming at her now, and so is Walker. But Yelena steps to her right and looks at her –knowingly, as if the former Black Widow knows something that was never shared between the two of them. Then, Yelena steps forward into the shadows. And he watches, waits. His thoughts are much clearer than Bob’s. They’re more violent; more feral. But they’re easier to understand.

“He’s not alone. And neither are you,” she promises, taking the plunge into the shadows herself. 

*****

In the end, they do what superheroes always do:

They save the world from the bad guy.

Except the bad guy wasn’t actually a person.

It was loneliness, and self-loathing. It was the darkness that surrounds you when you’re at your lowest and think it’s the end. It was the hardest parts of life thrown at you all at once, trying to drown you.

It’s something that…doesn’t just go away. And it didn’t just go away. 

It’s there. It’s lingering.

But that Void –as they’ve been calling it –can’t be ignored. But it can be filled –and that’s what they’ve been doing. For Bob, for themselves, for each other. Valentina did a lot of bad –but out of that bad has come some good. 

She has friends, for example. Though Alexei would insist they’re family, even if they’ve known each other a month. And she has a job that pays obscenely well (though, given the PR nightmare that is her new team, it better). 

Bucky made it clear that he wasn’t going to take part in anything relating to the team if she wasn’t hired as their PR manager. Yelena had seconded that notion, and Valentina wasn’t really in a place to negotiate so here she is. Living in New York City, with what could be described as her own floor of the Watch Tower, trying to clean up the team’s PR nightmare.

Living in the WatchTower is…weird, she thinks.

She’s gone from living in a crappy little apartment in DC with a random roommate she met on Facebook, to living in what was once the Avengers Tower in New York. With the New Avengers. 

This isn’t how she imagined her life. Though she can’t complain. 

When she isn’t trying to convince Walker to stop arguing with trolls on Twitter (“Seriously. This is what they want. Give me your phone.”) or stop Alexei from getting random sponsors from internet scams (“Sponsors will not ask for your credit card!”), she’s kind of actually enjoying herself. She makes good money, she has good friends, and her job isn’t that bad. 

The team is a hot mess. Don’t get her wrong —they truly are a PR nightmare. But they’re her PR nightmare and it’s not like she can get fired if she doesn’t do a good job at helping them. 

However, she’s doing a damn good job at helping them. 

Tonight is a great example. She’s sitting in the kitchen, finishing an outline for the next meeting with Valentina. Because while the director might think she’s in charge, she is not —and the team has entrusted their PR manager to ensure meetings with the director go their way and no one else’s. 

It’s late; she should probably be asleep. But she likes being up late when the team is out doing training because then she’s awake when they’re back. Though, it also means she gets to work in her pajamas and she much prefers that. And Alexei, bless him, has given her so many random shirts that are twice her size with New Avengers logos on them that she has a nightshirt for every night to wear with her boxer shorts that she definitely didn’t steal from the laundry the first week they all lived together. 

Bob —who has been distant and quiet most of the day —wanders into the kitchen. He’s wrapped up in a sheet, though he’s also wearing a sweater and sweats, and she briefly wonders how he’s not hot. She keeps an eye on him from her computer, though she doesn’t say anything initially. Sometimes he needed that push to talk, sometimes it was clear he didn’t want to. Tonight felt like the latter. 

They have…some kind of relationship. More than friends but less than dating. A weird in between that she doesn’t mind but is a bit confusing.

It’s clear they have some sort of feelings for one another. After everything that happened last month, she couldn’t help how she felt. Though she takes everything at his pace.

He clings to her (not literally but he’s always as close as he can be without making her uncomfortable). When the team is on missions and he’s left behind, she’s with him. Him reading, her working on whatever PR problem they’re facing now. Sometimes they lay on the couch together and watch movies.

Because she’s the only one he can touch without shame spiraling them, Bob likes to hold her hand whenever he can. That’s all he’ll do in front of the team; they don’t question that. But he lays his head in her lap when they’re alone. She plays with his hair absently and does whatever she’s doing. He just sort of exists in that moment and enjoys it while it lasts. And they just enjoy whatever they have.

When he drops his spoon three times in a row, she finally speaks up. 

“Are you good?” She asks, shutting her laptop. He’s staring at the spoon on the ground, clearly contemplating getting it. She slips off the chair and does it for him. “You don’t look too hot.”

He waves her off, but she can see the thin layer of sweat that stuck to his hair and skin. She reaches up to touch his forehead, though it dawns on her as soon as she touches him that there’s no real way to check his temperature. 

“Bob, we talked about this,” she reminds him gently. 

He huffs some and nods a bit, pushing his hair out of his face. “Just…I can’t sleep. That’s all. Nightmares and stuff —hard to sleep when I can’t control those. I’ll be okay though.”

“Do you have them a lot?”

He just nods and shrugs, opening the fridge to take a bottle of water. “Yeah. Less when the others are around —think that’s why I fall asleep during meetings.”

She hums in response, taking a note of that, then nods. “Let me know if I can help.”

“I don’t think you can,” he replies simply, but it doesn’t seem like he minds as he smiles at her wearily. Then he starts to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks though.”

She wants to argue, but stops herself. “At least hang out here with me then,” she counters, pushing her laptop across the counter and trailing behind him. “I just finished Friday’s outline; we can put something mindless on and maybe that’ll help you sleep? That helps me.”

He hesitates, clearly considering it, then nods some. She motions for him to follow her, and they end up finding themselves sitting in the living room. For a moment, she’s staring at the buttons on everything before realizing —she’s never actually turned anything on up here. Usually it’s just on. Or Bucky does it for her. 

“Oh shit, hm.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up some and leaning over. 

“I…don’t know what does what. I need to label all this shit,” she laughs sheepishly, sitting down beside him. “Any ideas?”

He shrugs. “I just push things ‘til something happens.”

“Fun idea,” she offers, crossing her arms over her chest as she considers what to do next. “But I don’t touch buttons I don’t know how to use. I’ve seen plenty of movies that say that’s a bad idea.”

“What do we do then?”

She hums, looking around. The room is lit with dimmed lights and the cityscape is glowing around them. Then she grabs two of the throw pillows on the couch. 

“You trust me?” She asks, looking down at him. She’s smiling, holding out her hand to him.

Bob doesn’t hesitate this time, taking her hand and pulling himself up. He doesn’t let go, either because this is his way of saying he does trust her or because he just wants to touch her. But she doesn’t care one way or another because she leads him to the elevator and hits the up button. 

They stand in silence, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder as the elevator shoots up to the top floor. Bob is fidgeting, and without even poking into his head, she knows he’s worried about what they’re doing. But she just squeezes his hand reassuringly as the doors open. Then she pulls him along towards the staircase that leads to the helipad outside. 

There’s one more set of stairs that leads to a small balcony –nothing fancy; probably there as an observation deck. But she found it the second night there after having tried to label a map of the tower for everyone. She didn’t label this part for selfish reasons, though anyone can find it if they really try.

The pillows drop to the ground and she kicks them some to adjust them to be cushions. Then, she pulls her hand from Bob’s and sits down, legs dangling over the edge and arms braced against the railing. The way the tower is shaped blocks the wind, but allows for an excellent view of the entire city from this vantage point. Rest in peace, Tony Stark, she thinks, because this is the best thing he designed in this tower. Bob is hesitant but sits down beside her, though he criss-crosses his legs under him instead of letting them dangle. 

Shoulders brush again, and she reaches out to take his hand without a word. He interlocks their fingers, no questions asked, and leans against her. And for a while, they just sit there in silence. They don’t really need to speak; they have each other’s company and that’s all she really needs. She hopes this is enough for him too.

An hour or so must pass, because he adjusts slightly and she lets out a small laugh as he lays his head in her lap without question. She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp as she does so and he closes his eyes

“We gonna camp out up here tonight?” She asks, voice soft and finally tinged with tiredness.

“Can we?” 

She considers it for a moment. He’s warm enough that it’s comfortable, even if there’s a slight chill in the air from being so high up. The team won’t be back until the early hours of the morning, so it’s not like they’ll be looking for the two of them right away. So she just nods and taps him to get him to move, then pulls her legs up off the edge. Bob moves the sheet he’s discarded to cover the ground some and she adjusts the pillows to be used properly now. 

Then they just lay down, face to face. They’re almost nose to nose, and Bob is smiling softly, the weariness that he had earlier just barely apparent in his eyes now. 

“Can I try something?” She asks, and he nods once, brows furrowing. Her hand moves slowly, resting on his cheek. “You’re going to feel that weird little pin prick.”

Bob braces for it; closes his eyes. She knows he doesn’t like it when she’s in his head; not because he doesn’t like her powers but because he doesn’t want her to be afraid of whatever is going on in it. She doesn’t mind whatever she sees, though, because she knows that he’s trying to be better. He’s working on it, and they’re all there to help him. So when his mind floods into hers, and she sees the fragments of the nightmares from earlier –the ones that are just brimming on the edge if he closes his eyes.

It’s him –well, it’s Void, actually. And it’s the lab where Void almost won. In this nightmare, though, he does. Consumed by the shadows, and the self-loathing. And Bob is standing there, unable to stop and save all of them. There’s crying and begging. She even hears her own voice, telling him that he’s only made things worse.

But then…she pushes it away. Sort of, at least.

They’re still there —still scary. But not as loud or as violent. Their faces are blurred out and Void is gone, replaced by just a shadow figure without eyes or a voice. It takes a lot of energy to do this –she’s never really held it longer than an hour or so –but touching him is helping keep it up. 

His breathing is even –soft, calm. He’s let out a soft, “oh,” having not experienced this level of calmness in a long time –if ever. Even if the thoughts aren’t as violent, they’re still there. But she’s trying to push them all away; replace them with something good. Though it takes most of her energy to even blur the current thoughts. 

But a new thought –not one she’s planted, but his own –flashes in her mind. It’s him and her. Where they are –above the city, looking at each other. And he’s reaching out to her. But he’s not timid in his own thoughts. He’s confident, and instead of taking her hand, he’s taking her by the waist and pulling her closer and –

“Oh my god,” he suddenly cries, pulling away and sitting up. He’s blushing furiously, covering his face. “I’m so sorry –that’s not –I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry –,”

She sits up, pulling his hands away from his face. She can feel the flush on her cheeks, but it’s a good thing as far as she’s concerned. “Hey, don’t apologize –I’m not uncomfortable.”

He looks at her with surprise, blue eyes swimming in confusion and dare she assumes, a little bit of hope. “You’re not?”

Laughter bubbles up and she can’t help it. “Bob, we hold hands pretty much every day. We basically cuddle any time no one else is around. Do you think I’d do that if I wasn’t comfortable?”

“I mean, you’re always nice to me. I just thought, you know, because you’re the only one that doesn’t get pulled in –you’re just doing that to be nice.”

She can’t help herself. She should have been patient, but he’s so…endearingly blind, and she realizes that if she doesn’t do it now, it may never happen. Her lips are on his without another word, leaning into him to get close. Unfortunately, Bob doesn’t seem to expect this –though he’s very excited nonetheless because his thoughts are just repeating holy shit, holy shit, holy shit and he falls onto his back. She falls with him because she doesn’t expect him to not know she’s going to kiss him. But his hands find her waist, and she catches herself by her hands on either side of him.

And he’s looking up at her with a faint blush on his cheeks, and she’s looking down at him with a bright smile that she can’t contain.

“Can we try that again?” She asks, and he nods quickly, closing the distance himself this time. 

One hand finds itself tangled in her hair and the other is gripping her waist like she’s going to disappear. The connection to his mind has been severed, but she doesn’t need to read his mind when she’s laying on top of him anyway. The kiss is awkward and a bit messy –neither of them have clearly been this close to another person in a while. But something about that only makes it better as she presses herself closer to him. 

He makes a sound –it’s quiet, but an obvious whine as she nips at his bottom lip. Her tongue slips past his lips and he makes that sound again, a little louder this time. A little more desperate. But it’s him who pulls away, and she wants to be okay with that but honestly, she’s more flustered than she’s willing to admit. They’re both breathing hard but she rolls off him and lays on her side, hands tucked under her head as Bob lays flat on his back and covers his face. 

“I –sorry, I couldn’t breathe,” he admits with an awkward laugh. And she laughs too, shaking her head.

“It happens,” she reassures.

There’s a pause, then she shifts, laying her head on his chest. He tenses just a bit, perhaps not expecting her to want to keep touching after all of that. But he relaxes, and drops his hands from his face, then slowly wraps his arms around her. He’s unsure, but when she presses closer to him, he squeezes her tight and rests her cheek against the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair, and his voice is sluggish with exhaustion.

*****

“Look at the two lovebirds!” Alexei yells, pointing at the security feed in the conference room.

Bucky looks up from his phone, frowning some as everyone gathers around the monitors to see her and Bob, asleep, on the roof. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen, but it’s not what he’s expecting.

“Finally,” Yelena complains, throwing her hands in the air. “I thought we were going to have to lock them in a closet or something.”

“Should we go wake them up?” Ava asks, kicking her feet onto the table. “Valentina will be here any minute. Do we really want to give her any kind of leverage over us?”

“Leave them be,” Bucky says, tossing his phone onto the table. “Just shut off that camera. We’ll make up an excuse why they’re not here.”

The team agrees not to bring it up. Let the two have whatever time they want together.

Bucky’s just thankful he doesn’t have to listen to her complain about how hot Bob is anymore.

———

Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @k1ttyjuice @magikdarkholme

[blazinginsquids]

The Antler Queen: An analysis

In Yellowjackets, there are 3 characters that don the Antler Queen mantle. Lottie Matthews, Natalie Scatorccio, and Shauna Shipman. Typically if you see a pattern of 3 in media, it’s important (3 has always been a very symbolic number). When I see 3 different things being applied to the same thing, I think of it as a triptych. 3 sides showcasing different aspects of the same story.

The antler Queen as a concept is the leader of the girls. The one that represents what, currently, is their primary driving force. My theory is that the three girls who become Antler Queen all represent one of three of these driving forces that encourage them to survive. To further this, I also think, on a larger real world scale, these 3 girls are intended to represent different types of people who led humanity.

Lottie represents spirituality, Natalie represents community, and Shauna represents ego. I also believe Shauna and Natalie are intended to be narrative foils, with Lottie acting as a parallel and foil to both simultaneously.

Lottie: Spirituality

Lottie is the most obvious. She represents spirituality, a belief that there is something at play beyond ourselves, and that it is our duty to act as a servant to these powers.

Religious leaders come in many forms. Prophets, saints, sometimes even certain rulers, etc. These types of leaders have mixed reviews, sometimes genuinely using their influence to encourage faith and spread peace, others using their influence to encourage others to commit violence in the name of their beliefs.

Lottie, like these leaders, also has moments of both good and bad. Encouraging Van to take a bone for protection, while also encouraging hunts of the other girls. Regardless, by prioritizing spirituality, she is giving the girls a reason to feel as if they should keep going beyond just mere survival. As the Antler Queen, she represents the girl’s spirituality encouraging them to believe in powers outside themselves.

Natalie: Community

I’m going to label what Natalie represents as “community”. More specifically, she represents the ideal ruler. The one that puts the community first, the one that brings people together, bringing her people to a golden age of prosperity. Under her “rule”, the Yellowjackets were able to build huts, and domesticate animals. While this could also be attributed to winter passing, I think you could argue that, had they continued to have Natalie as a leader, they’d be far more prepared for the next winter. Natalie expects the best out of her community, and therefore expects the best out of herself.

I choose to simplify this as community because, like these rulers, Natalie acts for the community. They are her main priority. By prioritizing the well being of the everyone else, she keeps them stable. As Antler Queen, she represents the girls need for community, encouraging them to look out for each other.

Shauna: Ego

Admittedly, I wasn’t sure what word to simplify what Shauna represents. I considered self, and individuality first, but ultimately settled on ego. Ego is the word for someone’s sense of self, self importance, and esteem.

Shauna represents the second type of ruler. Rather than the ideal ruler, she is the more common flawed ruler. The one that power corrupts, the one that’s ruled by their insecurity and greed. The immediate assumption is that she must represent dictators, or fascists. While I do think she does to an extent, I more so think she’s supposed to represent rulers who, by the end of their rule, become something the people didn’t want in power.

This is how Shauna views herself. She goes from being “a warrior” (Her words, not mine) to a housewife. She centered her own interest so much, that she betrayed the people around her. Every time she defended an evil act, starting with sleeping with Jeff, she constantly expected less and less good out of herself, leading her to darker and darker places.

Not necessarily in Shauna’s defense, she has also seen the worst of the others. Cannibalism, worshipping, mob mentality, these are things she has seen the other girls participate in. She thinks these girls are no better than her. She expects the worst out of her community, and therefore expects the worst out of herself.

Like the rulers she represents, Shauna acts out of ego. Her self esteem is her own priority. While having the capability to be ruthless acts in the favor of their survival, she is ultimately oppressing the other girls, for example, telling them they are going to stay in the wilderness whether they like it or not. While it may not seem as if she represents the other girls in this time, they are ultimately dividing, separating from the overall community.

Betray each other if it means getting home, no longer prioritizing the entire community, but only the ones they “identify” with. While the girls act as the antithesis of Shauna, a more nuanced approach, she represents this drive in its purest, most raw form. As Antler Queen, she represents the girls drive to do what they have to do for their own goals.

[yhwcomeback]

Had the vision that if golden Lloyd uses the power of destruction + golden power it just creates a black hole

[hauntingblue]

Justice for jolyne wdym emporio defeated pucci

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[neverendingford]

.

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, who starts gaslighting his family members by saying that All Blades were always a thing and that they just didn't take him seriously, once they found out about it.

Bruce, frustrated: If you yielded a magical sword in the past, I would know, Jaylad.

Jason: Jesus fucking Christ, I told you, I don't use it often, since it uses my soul. But I did mention that I have it!

Dick: You did not!

Jason: I said that Robin gives me magic! I said I *am* magic!

Bruce: That's—

Dick: But—

Bruce and Dick, turning to Damian helplessly: Your verdict?

Damian, who got already paid by Jason (price was two sneaked in rabbits): That's true. Mother said Todd had always had them. He only ever was sent to All Caste because he needed to be taught how to use it correctly. Didn't Dulcra say that you were the chosen one, Todd?

Jason, intentionally irritated: Exactly! Thank you.

The rest of the family: ●○●

Bruce, sitting in the Cave, in the middle of his 300th existential crisis: I— If Jason is the chosen one, was I technically wrong in our argument?

Dick: ...I can't believe that this is what takes you to accept that you were wrong, and not the fact that— Dunno, he is your son— And you kinda failed him—

Tim: On the more important note, should we call Jason Harry Potter now or something?

Stephanie, snickering: Jason... You are a wizard!

Bruce, sniffling: He did like these books as a child. Perhaps it was his way to try to tell us the truth.

Dick: Damn... Once we were arguing, and I told him that he had no magic... How foolish I was.

Jason, pressing phone to the shoulder, while cooking: ...And now they are staring at me, like I am about to do the whole Enchantix transformation, lol

Talia: I admit, that's amusing. Damian did a great job at supporting this circus.

Ra's voice on the background: Enchantix? What is it? Had that boy found ANOTHER magical device plot?!

Talia: ...Do you think I am too old to pull the same move you did on my father?

Jason: Nah, it is never too late to trick your dad. Get his ass.

Talia: You are absolutely correct.

Talia, screaming to Ra's: He did, father. It is related to the constant cycle of being brought back alive.

Jason, turning around to Damian, who is playing with rabbits on his couch: Prepare, little gremlin. You are about to testify falsely again, this time to your grandfather.

Damian, snorting: Two golden fish and one parrot.

Jason: I will warn your mother.

Tim, with Excel Chart open: Okay, so we figured out that he has All Blades, strange version of immortality, quick recovery thanks to Pit... What other magic Jason can have we don't know about it yet?

Cassandra: Cooking?

Stephanie: ...I think he is just a normal person, Cass.

Dick: NO, no, listen, it is one thing to cook normally, another to be trusted by Alfred.

Duke: ...You are reaching, guys. I think he is just a good chief.

Bruce: He always makes me laugh.

Tim: That's not— B, no one laughs, but you, so what kind of magic power is that?!

Duke: Listen, y'all, what if he sees ghosts?

Everyone: (pauses)

Stephanie, hitting Tim on the shoulder: WRITE IT DOWN, WRITE IT DOWN—

Tim: I am putting it in the "unclear" column, but good idea, dude.

Alfred, glancing at all of this sceptically: Dear Lord, this family is not your brightest soldiers...

[callsign-fox]

Over My Head - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

This could technically be a 2nd part to Hard to Measure, but can also be read by itself :)

No warnings xo

You guys have been loving all my Bob content, thank you so much for all the positive feedback!

Bob soared through the thin mountain air, cloak billowing behind him as the compound came into view below—a mess of concrete bunkers nestled between jagged peaks. The night was quiet, stars glittering overhead, but the tension humming through his body said otherwise.

According to intel, the group holed up here was trafficking magical artifacts and powered weapons. Not a great combo.

“Get in, neutralize, and try not to get hurt,” Bucky groaned in his ear.

Bob touched down near the bunker door, boots crunching on gravel. He paused, head tilting. Inside, chaos was already unfolding—yelling, crashes, and distant bursts of power.

“Uh, Buck?” he murmured. “There’s a lot of noise coming from inside there.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I see a heat signature,” Bucky said finally. “But it doesn’t exactly look…human?”

A second later, the bunker door exploded off its hinges.

Bob’s arm shot up on instinct, golden energy wrapping around the metal slab as he hurled it aside. He squinted through the haze—and his heart stuttered.

She was already here.

Y/N.

The same woman who’d knocked him flat on his ass a week ago when they’d first met. She hadn’t broken a sweat—had just winked and walked away, leaving him speechless and bruised. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

Now, she was here—fire in her eyes, power humming around her like a live wire—and she was wrecking the place.

Bob dropped down behind her, just as she melted a soldier’s rifle into a puddle of goo with a lazy flick of her fingers.

“You always crash parties like this?” he called out, stepping over a groaning man.

She didn’t turn, but he noticed her heart rate spike. “Only when I don’t get an invite.”

He grinned. “You’re making quite the mess.”

She finally glanced over her shoulder, eyes catching his with a spark that made something inside him jolt. “I like things messy. More fun that way.”

“I bet you do.”

Her brows arched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The first time we met, you destroyed half a city block tossing me around.”

“I was proving a point.”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “That I had zero chance of winning.”

Before she could reply, a new group of mercenaries came charging into the room.

She didn’t miss a beat, hurling a wave of telekinetic force that knocked the front line flat. Bob launched forward beside her, slamming his fist into a soldier’s chest and sending him flying.

They moved like they’d trained together for years. Her powers twined with his, pulsing in sync, each movement fluid and sharp. She sent enemies hurtling into walls while he cleared the path with raw, burning force.

“You fight like a wrecking ball,” she called out, ducking under a punch. “No finesse. Just power and prayers.”

Bob laughed, spinning to knock a man out cold. “You fight like a pissed-off ballerina with anger issues.”

She threw him a look over her shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t one.”

She tossed a grenade back at the sender with a casual flick—boom—and gave him a sly smile. “Are you flirting with me or insulting me?”

“What do you think?”

She smirked. “I think you are, but you’re in way over your head, big guy.”

Before he could answer, something in his gut twisted. His powers sparked as he sensed the threat behind her.

“Y/N—.”

She turned too late.

Bob lunged, grabbing her waist and yanking her into him. Her back hit his chest just as a soldier lunged out of the shadows with a knife, blade flashing. The swing missed her throat by inches as Bob raised his other hand and unleashed a burst of golden light, blasting the attacker into the wall.

The air was thick with adrenaline.

Y/N spun around in his arms and blinked up at him, breath catching. Her body was pressed against his, her hand instinctively gripping the front of his suit. His hand still rested on her waist, fingers curling just a little tighter before he forced himself to let go.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“I had him,” she breathed, not moving away.

“Sure you did.” His grin softened, warm and teasing. “Just figured I’d save your life for balance. You know—after you humiliated me in front of my team.”

Her hand lingered on his chest for a second longer before pulling away. “I was told I had to knock the ‘new strongest Avenger’ down a notch.”

“Careful,” he murmured, stepping closer again, “flattery might get you dinner.”

She arched a brow, lips quirking. “Did you just ask me out?”

“I most definitely did.”

Another wave of mercs appeared, and she sighed, cracking her neck with exaggerated annoyance.

“We finish this first,” she said, power radiating off her. “Then maybe you can buy me that drink—if you don’t trip over another unconscious body.”

He gave a dramatic salute. “Tactical stumble. Very advanced technique.”

They surged forward together—her a blaze of focused chaos, him a golden storm of force. When the last merc fell and the smoke cleared, the compound was silent, not quite in pieces, but pretty damn close.

Y/N stood beside him, wind tugging strands of hair from her face, eyes still glowing faintly.

Bob glanced at her, heart hammering.

“So…” he started, brushing a cut on his cheek absentmindedly, “about that drink?”

She didn’t answer at first—just walked past him slowly, fingertips trailing over his arm in a featherlight touch that made him stiffen in surprise.

Then, over her shoulder, she said with a soft, dangerous smile:

“Why don’t you just take me home, and we see what happens?”

He stared after her, completely gone.

“…I am so in over my head,” he muttered—and followed her without hesitation.

There was a sharp crackle in his earpiece, then Bucky’s voice came through, deadpan and disgusted: “I just heard every word of that, and I want to throw up.”

Bob froze mid-step. Y/N turned around with a curious smirk. “Everything okay?”

Without a word, Bob pulled the earpiece out and dropped it on the ground, then stomped on it with a satisfying crunch.

He looked up at her, grin lazy and sure. “Everything’s perfect.”

[dipperpepper77]

Arranged Marriage AU LADS Men

Dipper's Delusions

TAGS: Fluff, AFAB reader, children, men who yearn... ARE MEN WHO EARN.

Intro: Your kingdom reeked of smoke and burnt produce. The heat was so palpable that it seemed to stick to everyone's skin. Leaving yours to always be damp with soft sweat. The war was taking far too long to end. Your parents, the king and queen, opting for more drastic measures. Securing your hand to a foreign kingdom could provide aid and stability to your tiny kingdom. You weren't one for dramatics. Only nodding hesitantly as the documents were filled and signed over. Whilst, you didn't want to marry out of convenience... you also didn't want to see your people starve or succumb to the war.

The resources and power of the foreign kingdom would be enough to end the war and establish your own as one of the greats. One to not be messed with. Your people could now live in peace for your sacrifice. It would help that he was easy on the eyes.

It wasn't hard to convince him for your hand. He knew you. From prior balls were you didn't even spare him a passing glance. Now it was relatively the same. You still didn't grant him a passing glance in your shared castle. But, oh... how he longed for you. You were completely unaware of his sentiments for you. However, you'd soon find out.

Sea god Rafayel: You picked at your food with the gold plated fork. Your lips parting to make a comment but stopping halfway. Rafayel cleared his throat, "something's on your mind. Say it". You gave a curt nod before speaking "I thought it would be highly inappropriate to eat one's own kind". He let out an amused laugh. "Seafood? It's the circle of life, my dear. Eat or be eaten. Humans truly know nothing.. do they?" You shook your head a bit. Feeling more comfortable to take a bite of the seafood. It was rich and buttery. Light with the slight taste of the ocean. His hand grazed yours, picking it up in his soft delicate palm. "May I?" You nod. He places kisses to your knuckles. You felt a burning feeling in your throat. A lump forming as he nuzzled against your hand. "You don't need to feel the same... just know one thing. You will always have a place in my heart."

You found yourself easing into Rafayel. Gradually picking up with his steps. Finding yourself nuzzled in his embrace as he showed you his art pieces. More often than not you just found that... you couldn't be apart from him. His head laid on your lap as you fixed up his hair. You held golden shears as you cut small bits of his violet strands. "Raf... I think I'll do this wrong." He only smiled up at you. "You could never do wrong in my eyes. I trust you." He bit back a smirk. "Besides, If I look awful I'll tell everyone it's because my dear wife is possessive."

The kingdom was pushing for an heir after the anniversary of your marriage. You sat on the bed. The lump crawling back into your throat. You loved Rafayel. But, you were afraid. What if he changed? What if all he was doing was wooing you for an heir?

Rafayel kissed behind your ear. "Listen to me. We go at your pace.. okay?" You nod gently. Breathing out gently. "I'm scared.." His gaze softened. Looking at you like you were a wet trembling animal he needed to protect. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face. "Have I ever told you... you always happen to be the most beautiful woman in the room?" He got up. Extending his hand for you to take. He lead you to the garden. You looked at it in awe. You. Paintings full of your face. Painted in a way that showed you how utterly devoted he was.

(Skip forward) Rafayel was a proud dad of twins. One girl and one boy. Both had your hair and his face. Oh, how he doted on them. Kissing their cheeks constantly. The kingdom was quick to choose the boy as the heir. Leading to constant protests from a moody Rafayel. "No. Whoever shows they are ready for the throne gets it." He will NOT back down when it comes to showing equality to your children.

Crown of Light Xavier: A man beyond his age. When you heard of him at first, you thought he was an old man. But, when you saw him... it was another story. He was beautiful. You averted your gaze away from him. The side of your face seemed to be cradled by the candlelight. He smiled softly. "Do you like the light?" Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided to indulge him with a soft nod. His palm extended, a bead of light appeared only to transform to a bunny.

As soon as the precious moment occurred, it seemed to fleet just as fast. News of the kingdom awaiting an heir seemed to strike Xavier down. He hardly spoke to you. Leaving you to go into the bed chambers and sleeping. Dozing off as if he didn't have a wife.

You sat on the plush cushion of the couch. Embroidering a pillow for your future children if your husband just got out of his bed chambers for once. Then, you saw him standing at the doorway. His face looking like he mourned you. You spoke softly, "what troubles you so much?" He shuddered before he took a seat next to you. Whatever he was about to say seemed to be rehearsed. "I.. can... I can not give you children." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Can't or will not?" He shook his head gently. "Will not."

The castle has been tense ever since. You hardly spoke to him. It was the casual difference of him saying will not rather than could not. You sat on the silk bed in your bed chambers. Looking at nothing in particular. Rather, you were deep in thought about how you even got into this situation. Xavier walked into the room, blowing the soft flames of the candles that illuminated your room. You were about to protest... but, his hand rose. "Just... let me speak okay?" You nodded quietly. "It's not that I do not want children with you. It's more that I... I'm scared. Terrified actually. What if I'm not a good father? What if I don't last long enough to see them into adulthood.. I... I can't". Your hand went to the small of his back. Truly the most reassuring thing you could've done. He smiled softly. Using his evol to make a little light show for you as an apology. Light illuminated the room, forming intricate shapes.

You two had triplets on the first go. Poor Xavier's heart nearly dropped. But, he was making the most of it. Two little girls with golden strands and your eyes. The boy inheriting your hair and his blue eyes. King Xavier was reduced to a restless father. His girls pulling at his locks while the boy nestled in his chest... he wouldn't have it any other way.

Ice King Zayne: "I'd like to formally introduce my-". He walked away before you could even finish your sentence. Your eyes widened. What? He was the one who rushed your union. So why was he pushing you away? Did he think you lower than him?

You avoided him like a plague and so did he. The ice of his evol was not the only thing making this castle so... frigid. You ended up developing a routine: wake up, finish up royal tasks, meet with your ladies in waiting, eat in the empty dining table, and go to bed. 150 steps to your bed chambers. So you started counting again and again. 150 exact. What a mundane and boring life.

Today was no different. 150 steps to leave your room and to the dining table. But, this time you saw Zayne eating. You took your seat and ate in silence. The day was pretty pleasant afterwards. 150 steps to the chambers... 1...2...3. You only counted to 50 until you felt a hand grab your wrist and tug you somewhere else. Your mind was on autopilot. 150... 151? 180 steps to Zayne's chambers. Wait.. why are you in his chambers? He helped you out of your robe. His gaze appreciative of the silk white nightgown you wore. You looked up at him baffled. But, he just tugged you into bed with him. You were spooned into his embrace. Back hitting his muscular chest.

You were weak. How else do you explain just sleeping comfortably? He nuzzled his face into your neck. "I'm... not one for affection. I really tried... I just find being away from you is unbearable." What you didn't know is that he was a mess around you. The times he rushed away from you... he was hiding in the corner of the room blushing like a fool. He was not good at being vulnerable at all. But, he will try for you.

Twin girls appeared in his arms. Both having your face, your hair, your mannerisms. His genes didn't seem to even fight it. He thanked all the wishing he did. These little girls thawed the rest of his frigid heart that you couldn't reach. He would always carry snacks hidden under his heavy crown. Chocolate for the eldest twin, strawberry jam packets for the other, and whatever you craved. All with a faint blush whenever he was around you.

Dragon Sylus: You signed up for a marriage… not this. You were stuck in the tower being guarded by a damn dragon? You knew his name was Sylus. Knew he was also the king of the kingdom. Knew he preferred to be alone and recluse in the tower. Knew he hated humans. But, also knew he had to endure to keep the kingdom out of ruins.

He clung to you. His strong voice squeaking out. What happened to this strong dragon? “M-may.. I hold on to your ribbon?” You nod. His long fingers twirled around the ribbon that laid behind your dress. The one that held your waist. His black nails scratching lightly on it. “Pretty.”

You woke up more often than not in his arms. He always asked before he touched you. Not wanting to scare you off. His finger tips were ash black. His nails pointed and sharp. The noir color fading past his knuckle to reveal pale skin. Your fingers reached his horns earning you a soft groan. “They’re sensitive, my belle.” You took your hands off. He looked at you with almost worry. His nail dragging on your soft cheek. “Do I.. scare you?” You shot up. Wanting to protest. He shook his head. Getting up and leaving the room.

You found him mopping by a small nest that could only fit you and him if you squeezed. Maybe he made it so he could envelop you whole? That’s how he felt he could protect you. Your hand petted his hair. Asking.. begging to talk. He looked up at you. “I don’t want to scare you. It’s hard enough to ask you to have heirs with me. They’d be half dragon and half human.. I can’t ask you to create monsters.” You shook your head. Explaining you didn’t find him repulsive. But, his hand found yours again. “D-don’t.. not for my sake. I’d do anything for you. My horns? I’ll shave them down. Look more human. I’ll cut the claws.. the fangs too. Anything. Please.. I don’t wish to frighten you.” When you finally got him to see reason, he slept soundly on your chest.

He was the best girl dad. His little girl had your hair and his crimson eyes. She had the most fierce personality anyone had ever seen. More importantly… she had her dad wrapped around her finger. He’d always make her a nest. Always laugh whenever she started showing her dragon side. You two would take her to the gardens so she could enjoy the sun.

God of War Caleb: Strategically, this was a match made in heaven. His kingdom was one that never lost a battle. The soldiers were all top quality and ruthless when it came to protecting the crown. But, you grew up with Caleb. The powerful king was the same person who’d fuss over your dress, fix your ribbons, put your shoes on for you. His reward? You hardly acknowledged him as a romantic prospect. Hardly batting an eye to him at the balls.

How long would it take for him to snap? Not long actually.. you’re his wife now. His queen. You were blissfully unaware to his romantic sentiments. Usually giving him the same polite nod as always. Caleb… was a good and dear friend. Until tonight.

His hand snaked to the small of your back. Keeping you pressed against him. His cheek rubbed against yours. His voice… soft. Almost melodic. “Am I not enough? I’m yours… so humbly yours. My heart..” He placed your hand on his warm chest. Your fingertips feeling his steady and strong heartbeat. “This… it beats for you.” You could only swallow hard. Your eyes flickering with recognition. You truly loved him.

He followed you around like a lost puppy. Making countless excuses as for why he needed to be in your line of sight. No one understood how this man crumbled to a pathetic fool over you. But, they weren’t crazy enough to question him. A single utter of your name had his intention. If it was a negative comment? The person would rather be dead and gone than face Caleb’s wrath. Come hell or high water, that man would go to war for your dignity.

Caleb had his heir. A boy who looked exactly like him. A carbon copy down to his pout. He adored the boy.. absolutely. But, mentally cursed himself because he wished he looked a bit more like you. He also cursed himself because his son is EXACTLY like him. Caleb would follow you around for affection or praise, only to get knocked by his son. His son was equally possessive and jealous over your time. A chaotic but loving home is what I can best describe it as.

[galactic-rhea]

The thing with Palpatine is that I do believe he cared for Anakin, like, he really did! In a extremely twisted way, because see, he really DIDN'T need Anakin, seriously he didn't. Palpatine's plan was going to work either way and he already had power over a republic already becoming a failed state.

For him Anakin was kinda just a whim, a little extra thing to rub on the face of the jedi to take their golden powerful chosen one and make him a menace from the inside. He really DIDN'T NEED to put on the work to groom him for over a decade, exhaust him emotionally and isolate him to the point of extreme distress, like he seriously put a lot of work on it and it wasn't needed.

So he cares for Anakin like the thing he's a bit obssesed with, he cares for Anakin the same way you care for an extra score, like the cherry on the top, he cares for Anakin in a possesive 'Look what I made of him', which is pretty much what abusive parents that see their children as just an extension of themselves do. But there is some very twisted and awful love in there, and Vader probably knows that, and in his fried mind he's unable to be anything else but grateful that there's someone that cares for him even if is for, yknow, a walking weapon.

Palpatine didn't really to put on the work to go and look for Vader when he sensed he was in danger, nor to put on all the work to put him into an Iron-Maiden-Suit, like yeah he relished in the torture, but he didnt want him to lose him just yet. It isnt until 20 years later that he seems to be kinda okayish with Vader dying, and partially i think is because at that point he got a bit bored of Vader lol

But my point is that he did put an awful lot of work for something completely unnecessary for his plans, an awful lot of work just to rub it on the face of the jedi that didnt even exist anymore for the most part. Except to maybe have the last laugh at Yoda and Obi-Wan. So yeah, Anakin was Palpatine's little prized pet, and probably his little obssesion, like I'm sure it just made his game more entertaining; but also he's repeating the cycle that all sith have been doing.

He's in a way just doing exactly what Plagueis did with him, because man being a sith lord surely sounds lonely, after a while you might as well start caring for the guy that you're trying to manipulate into murdering everything that moves since he was 9, even if is in a very selfish and dehumanizing way.

[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE EXPLAINED: HOW TO GET THE LIFE YOU DREAM OF ᥫ᭡

A TELL-ALL GUIDE TO THE METHOD EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT

so in my asks i have alot of people going “sai, you always go on and on and on and on about the void and different problems people may have, but you never explain what it is and how to get there”And to be honest with you, most of my posts were meant to be that way because i knew of other blogs explaining the void and my blog was just meant to be follow up posts for those who already knew about the void. Although, now i feel more confident and equipped to explain the void in its entirety.

so strap in for this long ass post because this is a gonna be THE guide (if you can’t tell i’m very excited for this post)

i just wanna say that this post is an inspiration and a remix of all those that have inspired me

1. What is the void?

so as you can see yourself and life right now is you in the physical plane (the notorious 3D) you are experiencing the world as *your name* *your lastname*, and your experience is confined by the way that you initially came into the world, being y/n y/ln . The void, originally known as the “I AM” state is when you leave that experience behind, you leave the physical world behind and become nothing and everything at the exact same time. And doing so you can create and destroy absolutely anything in your experience = your reality which is why people call their destination after the void their “dr”=“desired reality”.

2. Why the void?

This method is seen as very effective and efficient once you know how to do it right because it’s a “method” in which your subconscious mind is in full control, which means you can do absolutely anything and that’s not some conspiracy or belief, it is a fact that when entering this subconscious-based meditation state that you can do absolutely anything, which is why i said that you have the power to create and destroy anything in the physical plane, altering your experience. You can change your genetics, your family and friends, your wealth, gender, where you live and much more. You can also redesign things, like a country for you to live in, your age, your s/o’s age, your memories and just your life in general. Just one trip to the void and all that you dream of is yours.

The void doesn’t have to be pitch black you can design it anyway you like, i see alot of people in my dms and asks, saying that the pitch black scares them, but your void can look anyway you want.

personally i’m not scared but i just wanted my void to look cute so i added pink stars to the pitch black

3. How do i get to the void?

There are many ways to get into the void, you can follow a guided many meditation, you can listen to subliminals or waves, you can simply affirm, you can visualise, or you can simply do none of these and go into the void with just the intent, KNOWING that it’s apart of you. You don’t need any method to tap into the void, all you need is yourself and the intent, knowing it’s apart of you and not some magical fairyland. You can enter at anytime of day, because you’re a god and don’t need to be confined to “time”. “Time” is a malleable concept and i’ll be dammed if you guys waste your days because you only believe that you can tap in at night.

4. Problems people have with the void

3 things: wavering, laziness and putting the void on a damn pedestal

a lot of you guys fail to enter the void simply because you try to enter. all the things i have said about the void make it almost impossible to believe, a golden ticket to your dream life with one trip to the void. And because of the fact that we have been conditioned to believe that we have to work for everything we have, this just seems to good to be true. and you see the void as some magical place when it’s YOU, the void is YOU, why do you think you affirm “I Am”? well it’s because the void is literally the state of you being everything but nothing, it is not a place it is a state, hence the void STATE, the “I Am” STATE. it’s a meditative state and that’s it.

When you enter the "I AM" state, why do you affirm phrases like "I am, I am pure consciousness, I am the void, I am unattached to any reality, I am faceless and formless"? It's because these affirmations align you with your divine essence, your true God Self. However, this practice is often short-lived. You enter this state briefly, and when you don't experience any immediate changes or wake up in the same shitty reality, you begin to doubt. You think, "Why hasn't it worked? I must be doing something wrong. I'll try again tonight." This is what wavering looks like. You declare yourself to be in the "I AM" state, but when it doesn’t immediately manifest, you believe it hasn't worked and attempt to re-enter it repeatedly. This endless cycle of trying can confuse your subconscious mind. Instead of truly embodying the state, you're constantly oscillating, creating inconsistency and doubt.

STOP TRYING AND START BEING, OR YOU WILL GET NOWHERE

the void is the easiest thing ever and it is owed to you, because it is you

you can literally enter right now and have every single thing you’ve ever wanted, with just a meditation state, the void isn’t the one with the power it’s you. The void is inside of you and it is lifeless, the only time it gains any power is when YOU step into the equation. As i once said, the void is your bitch not the other way around.

5. Unhealthy relationships

Although the void is one of the best methods i know, i would hate for anyone to accumulate an unhealthy, toxic relationship with the void. The void is as easy as breathing, i know, but it can be alot for some of us to wrap our heads around due to the way we have been conditioned to think (which hurts my heart more than you know). I see people spend months and years trying to get into the void going through an emotionally taxing experience with it. Although i tell people it doesn’t matter how much time you’ve “wasted” and not to let that discourage you because you could really enter now if you put your mind to it (no pun intended) , if you know that it has been eating you up trying for the void going around a constant cycle, please take a break or use other methods.

now with that i say go, go and redesign yourself, deconstruct yourself and create the new you, start from scratch and make your dream self, go to the void and get your dream life.

don’t try, just be 🌊💋

i really hope you loved this as much as i do, now go get your dream life -salem ᥫ᭡

[drenched-in-sunlight]

one thing that i find interesting is that even though we never get to interact with Marika directly, only knowing her via obscure cutscenes and other characters' dialogue... she actually displays a wide range of emotions as much as any other NPCs.

her statues depict her as having a warm, gentle smile:

the Mimic veil description points to her playful, mischievous side:

(it's a popular theory in the JP/Asian side of the fandom that it's sth from her childhood - hence the "Marika's Mischief", not "Queen Marika's", and she used it to escape the grisly fate befalling her family.

additionally, its equivalence in Dark Souls is also something described as "the mischief of a young girl who sought relief from the solitude of the woods at dusk", aka Princess Dusk who hails from "Oolacile, land of ancient golden sorceries", but i digress)

her portrait, the story trailer's "Queen Marika was driven to the brink" and Gideon's dialogue after the player defeated Malenia pointed out her sorrow:

(back when i first played the base game, this is the portrait that drove my eyes most in Roundtable Hold. i kept gazing at her - the Queen with permanently lowered eyes, and thought "there is a girl in there")

The bat lady's song, Messmer's entire Crusade, all those conflicts to establish the Erdtree, shows her anger, and the cruelty she's capable of:

Then there's Shaman's village, the clinic underneath Shadow Keep, the golden braid, the Minor Erdtree, the sealing of Death - that points to grief, trauma, survivor guilt, kindness, and the ruinous drive for revenge that results in the above path down hell:

(there's also a theory for the Crusade's headless statue being a reminder for the Hornsent of what they put Marika's mother through, but it's not concrete canon so here is the link if you want to check it out)

The fact that all of Erdtree's incantations are heal and protection spells (with only one exception of Wrath of Gold spell which was found after the Elden Ring was shattered), the Capitol's Perfumers originally being blessed healers, and that all Erdtree blessings come in the shape of tears give the picture of Marika's gentle wish at the beginning: to heal everything and everyone.

(and to me personally, there's a kind of vulnerability and honesty in showing your tears to the world and let it be your power to heal at the same time.)

the eye she blessed Messmer with (i do think the Eng translation at some part lost the sentiment of the JP text - that the eye is always referred to as a blessing)

the blessing flask that - unlike its Dark Souls equivalent (which ranges from 6-13 flasks), only have 4 available to us player, heal all ailments and status effect, and specified as sth made for Messmer.

the Marika's soreseal in the Haligtree + the waterfall near Godwyn's final resting place

the Regal Omen Bairn (that was fashioned after the Jizo statue - sth made by grieving parents wishing for protection for their deceased child in the afterlife)

the blessing, gifts, equipment that Messmer and Godwyn's personal knights all get

the fact that Marika's bedchamber and the Impaler's Catacomb (which is the only catacomb in the base game to have the spike trap mechanic used in catacombs in the DLC) remain the proof of Messmer's existence in the base game

how Godwyn's ending is the only ending where the mending rune is placed on the position of Marika's womb (the lower arc or the Elden Ring - also referred to as the basin in which its blessings pool)

that's a whole barrage of motherhood. the love, the fear, the postpartum depression, the guilt and anxiety, (the occasional scheming for revenge with her son). and despite how flawed and tragic that love ends up being for all of them, it is there.

(there's a whole subplot about how Messmer is the only demigod to be called ugly in-game (Hornsent npc dialogue) while Boc's questline is about how his mother being the only one to always assure him he's beautiful, despite everyone else calling him ugly. and how each NPCs questline does reflect a wider theme seen in Marika and her children. but again, i digress)

every time i think of her, Marika is a constantly shifting kaleidoscope, holding everything from within (the beauty and the malign, light and dark, birth and death, she's warm and gentle, she's cruel and unjust, she's strong and kind, she's weak and resentful, she's sweet and she's bitterness made flesh)... and i could only stand there and admire it all.

[heyimkana]

Waking up to your yandere!fiancée Sung Jinwoo

This is a deleted scene from Limerence but can be read separately. It's basically just Jinwoo showing how much of a red flag he is and reader (colorblind af) thinking that he's just roleplaying 😌💀

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: YANDERE, smut, fluff

Content Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex, choking, swearing

Word Count: 4K

Waking up to Sung Jinwoo’s heavenly features was God’s greatest gift.

Sunlight streamed golden through the window, adorning every slope and rise of his muscles with an angelic glow. His strong arms were wrapped around your body, protective even in his sleep. 

You took a moment to admire, adoring him with your heart fluttering fondly as your eyes absorbed every detail. He looked like a dream. He felt like a dream even as you trailed your fingertips over his features, reveling in the smoothness of his skin. His hair was adorably tousled, his eyelashes long enough to brush against his cheekbones. He was still nude beneath the sheets, his upper body bare and exposed, giving you the perfect view of the scratches you had left along his spine and the searing passion you had drowned yourselves in just a few hours before. 

Jinwoo seemed so vulnerable like this, but only because with you, he found the chance to be. You were the serenity that allowed him to return to his roots, to let him be the little boy who was not yet aware of the burden the world would place on his shoulders, of the power he’d be bestowed upon. And that little boy, without fail, always sought for your affection, yearning for your undivided attention, and it made you feel wanted. Needed. Loved and desired.

You rolled to your stomach, propping yourself on your elbows as you pressed a light kiss on his shoulder. Carefully, you slipped away from his embrace, wanting to freshen yourself before he stirred awake. 

Jinwoo groaned, the sound low and hoarse, murmuring your name in his sleep. “Don’t go…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, carding your fingers through his hair. He let out a blissful sigh at your touch, perhaps even a purr, falling back to sleep with his lips slightly curving up in the sheer happiness of having you there.

He’s so cute, you pondered to yourself, almost like a child. Giving him another soft kiss on his forehead, you climbed down the bed, your naked body sore after hours of being bitten, folded, and bent over.

“Fuck, he didn’t hold back at all last night, did he?” A painful hiss fled your lips as you looked down at your body, a territory marked with a very eager, very talented mouth and bottomless passion. Then again, I told him not to hold back, you giggled as the memory of you begging him to go faster, harder, came to your recollection. Seeing all his marks on you gave you a sense of pride and euphoria, and honestly, you wouldn’t have minded if they lasted forever. You belonged to Sung Jinwoo, and he belonged to you—only to you. What woman wouldn’t be proud of that?

Despite wanting the same, your fiancée was always considerate not to indulge his greed. He never left his lovebites in places other people could see. No matter how much the beast inside him wanted to, he chose to put a collar around himself and placed the leash in your hand. He’d only ruin you when you gave him permission to.

“God, I want to marry him,” you uttered aloud with a yearning sigh as you made your way to the bathroom.

You returned a little while later, your body adorned by the silky nightgown he nearly tore apart the night before. His lids slowly fluttered open at your movements, hazy with sleep. Jinwoo was gorgeous; even with his hair all disheveled and his eyes bleary, he remained the loveliest thing you’d ever seen. His pretty smile broke on his lips, slowly and softly, the second he found your face.

“Hey, Angel…”

No sound on earth was more pleasing than his voice in the morning, except perhaps the sweet moans and the subdued whimpers that rang through your ears when he released himself inside you. The rasp in his husky voice, how it vibrated nicely in the air in the form of the sweetest purr… His voice was the song the heavens created to bless your ears.

“Hey, handsome,” you slithered back under the covers, sliding closer to him. “You slept like a baby.”

“Mm. Someone wore me out last night.”

“I wonder who that was,” you tittered.

Jinwoo drowsily smiled, thankful he could hear your sweet sounds so early in the morning. “Come here.” He brought you back to his embrace, wrapping his arms around you again like he did every night. It was the only way he could fall asleep, with your body pressed flush against him, your warmth seeping into his pores. “Why did you move away? I was holding you before.”

“I’m sorry.” Your arms slid up and down his biceps, kissing the protruding muscle. “I went to brush my teeth.”

“Next time, don’t bother. I want to wake up with you in my arms.” He pulled you close, sighing in contentment at the contact. “Mmm… You’re so warm.” His hand drifted down your nightgown, following the contour of your spine, his touch reverent. “And soft...” His fingertips traced the skin underneath, roaming until they settled on the dip of your neck, lifting your face for him to marvel upon. “And beautiful…” He sighed, almost dreamily. “How did I get so lucky to find a woman like you?”

You chuckled, “Feeling grateful today, aren’t we?”

“I’m grateful every day, Angel. For every second of my life that I spent with you.”

“And a little cheesy.”

He scrunched his nose in response, which you kissed with your giggle reverberating right after.

“What time do you have to leave for work today?” Jinwoo asked, tugging you close enough for him to settle his chin on your head. 

“Hmm…” You drew your name on his chest with your digits, not knowing that he’d already had it carved in his heart from the first day he met you. “In less than an hour, I think?”

Nuzzling his nose against your strands, he hummed, “Mm. I’ll call in late for you.”

You chortled quietly, answering his embrace with another. You drowned yourself in his warmth, in his sweet scent, your heart full of never-ending affection. 

“It still feels like a dream to me,” Jinwoo murmured, “that I can wake up to you like this every day. To hear your voice the first thing in the morning… to see your face… to feel your body pressed against mine…” He returned the small distance between you to meet your eyes, his fingers tracing the apple of your cheek as devotion filled his gaze. “I’m the happiest man in the world.”

Moments like this made you feel like you owed the deities your soul for bringing him into your life. Unsure of how to convey that into words, you leaned in to present him with a kiss. Your lips just barely grazed his when he suddenly pulled away. “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he whispered rather sheepishly.

“I don’t care.” You drew him back to you, your lips interlocking, your fingers twisting in his hair.

Jinwoo rolled you to your back, his body hovering close above yours. He kept the kiss chaste and sweet, smiling softly once it ended. “I love you.”

”I love you more.” So, so much more. 

To your astonishment, however, the romance in his eyes transformed into something grave as his fingers played with your strands, his eyes glued to your face but not truly looking at you. 

“What is it?” you asked, confused by the sudden change of his expression.

He drew a breath. “We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?”

Hearing a hint of nervousness in his voice, you couldn’t help but tease. “If you want me to.”

“I’ll want you forever, Angel, you know that,” he replied with all his heart, his feelings too intense to reciprocate your jest with another. “There’s not a day that I don't need you in my life.”

You kissed the inside of his palm. “Then maybe forever I’ll stay.”

“You’ll never… leave me?”

“I’ll never leave you.” Your heart thawed. The slight tremble in his voice reminded you of that of a child frightened to bid his mother goodbye. “Why, Jin? What’s the matter?”

He turned hushed. Your words were crystal clear, and he could etch them in his chest, but for some reason, he needed more. Some kind of proof, a reassurance. “Will you promise me that?”

"Promise you?" Although it felt exciting to be so wanted, you always loved it better when he became desperate for you. “What, you don’t trust me? Do I need to spell—”

The sudden grasp of his fingers around your wrists instantly washed your mischievous grin away. He pinned you down to the bed, his grip far from hurting but firm enough to deliver his message. He was not taking this matter lightly, and neither should you. 

“I want you to promise me,” Jinwoo repeated solemnly, almost like a harsh demand. “I want you to mean every single word you say when you tell me you’ll never leave me.” 

The intensity in his stare, his touch, his voice… It burned you. However, the moment your eyes met, the flame turned subdued, as if the astonishment in your eyes doused it a little. The pressuring tone in his voice switched to pleading as he brought your wrist closer to his face, kissing you above your pulsating vein. “Please, Sweetheart…? I need to hear you say it for me…”

And when a man, more powerful than the Gods, shed his armor to show the frail pieces of him only for your eyes to see, how could you not grant such a request? “I promise,” you said without a doubt, without a second of hesitation, with all the fragments of your soul you could offer. “I promise never to leave you. I promise that I’ll stay here with you forever.”

His lips momentarily parted in surprise at your vow before he tautened them again, bowing as profound joy rippled through him. Jinwoo breathed a relieved sigh, cradling your face as his lips grazed your cheek. “I love you.” Your jawline. “I love you.” Your neck. “I love you so much.” He settled a lingering kiss above your heart, one that beat only for him. “My sweet girl… You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only one I can ever love.”

You squirmed; his lips felt ticklish and electrifying on your skin. As his hands and mouth continued to roam, the primal need for his touch returned, swelling rapidly within you. “Jinwoo…”

“I know, love.” His mouth was hot and wet against your sweet spot, the soft flesh of your neck tugged gently between his teeth. “Let me return the favor this time. Tell me, how do you want me?”

Everywhere. I want you everywhere on my body. Your lips. Your hands. I want your cock inside me, but before that—

“Your mouth,” you breathlessly replied. “I want your mouth on me.”

He nearly moaned at your request, elated that you asked him to do what he’d been craving the most. 

You sighed in rapture, your body being pleasured once again, inch by inch. You arched your back as he kissed his way down your navel, your tongue wetting your lips as you watched him part open your legs.

“Right here?” Jinwoo asked with a rasp in his voice, his fingers gently caressing your heat, his mouth sucking another bruise on your inner thigh, so dangerously close to your core, you could already feel his breath on you.

You chewed on your lip, nodding. 

He wasted no time, diving his head low, prying your folds apart with his thumbs before he darted out his tongue and licked you from your entrance to your clit. “Fuck,” you moaned, your body contracting as the sensation of his mouth closing around your nub washed over you. “God, baby—” Your hand settled on his head, grabbing a handful of his locks to keep him still as you bucked your hips forward, causing him to groan as he plunged his tongue deeper inside you. “Your mouth feels so good.”

He moaned softly, loved being praised by you. His grip tightened around your thighs as he sucked at your most sensitive spot, lapping every drop of essence that seeped out of you like an obedient dog. His eyes turned half-lidded, drunk in the taste of you, appearing so differently than the way they stared at you before when he demanded you to state your promise.

Promise, huh..? “Hey, Jin,” you started, still slowly grinding against his face. “Out of curiosity, what would happen to me if I—ngh—broke my promise?”

He stopped for a second, his lids flickering open, and then it returned, the glimpse of darkness you saw glinting in his eyes before. Jinwoo broke away from you, his thumb replacing his tongue as he collected his composure, rubbing it firmly against your clit. “You’re gonna leave me?”

You shuddered at his tone, how it altered the air between you with only one question. He pressed his thumb further against your bud as his two other fingers slid inside, wedged tightly between your walls. You writhed, his touch rougher than before, so intense you could almost feel his nails scraping against your walls. “H-hypothetically speaking.”

“Hypothetically speaking,” he repeated with a scoff. “Hypothetically speaking, Sweetheart, you’ll be punished.” He scissored his fingers inside, stretching you apart, no mercy in his smile.

“How—” Your soft whimper interrupted you, your body flinching under his ministrations. “H-How will I be punished?”

A new kind of thrill suffused him to the brim, his eyes gleaming at your curiosity. “Oh, your punishment would be severe, Angel.” His silvery voice soothed you as his words set you ablaze. There was a hint of playfulness there, which swept your fear away. He knew you simply wanted to tease him, so he played along. What was left inside you then was only excitement, born from every word he spoke. “I would make sure you knew exactly what happens when you even consider leaving me. You’d be kept close to me, watched at all times. You wouldn’t even be able to leave my sight without my permission. You’d be completely under my control every second of your life.” 

It scared you how much it adrenalized you in the most wonderful way, his lines taking you to places your mind never dared to wander. You enjoyed it, this little performance he displayed. Jinwoo had always been nothing but a sweet, tender lover to you. Seeing him take a sadistic role for the sake of indulging your fantasy was a nice change. “You think you have the heart to do that?” 

“Oh, honey,” he chuckled deeply, placing his mouth on you once more, his tongue swirling sinfully inside. “I can be whatever you want me to be. I can give you pleasure,” he purred against your soaking cunt, the vibrations making you squirm. “I can give you pain.” You quivered, your hand pushing his head further to your core, silently begging for more. “I can give you fear if that’s what you desire.” He let his teeth graze your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your streams. “So, don’t tease me too much, Sweetheart. You don’t know what I'm capable of.”

There was a subtle threat in his tone, and you fucking loved it. You wanted it. You wanted it all. You wanted to see just how far he’d cross his own limits for you.  

“But, of course,” Jinwoo brought your thigh closer to him, guiding you to wrap your legs tighter around his head. “This is only hypothetical.” He stroked your skin before he planted a soft kiss there, his cheek nuzzling against your inner thigh. “Because you'll never leave me”—something changed in his eyes, a certain glint in his cobalt blues that stunned your heart—“isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

You couldn’t yet fathom what was written in his gaze, but it felt… unnerving. He was completely immersed in his role, so much so that you wondered if he wasn’t acting at all. That there was truly a part of him that wanted to keep you tied up to the bed, used solely as a toy for his pleasure. 

You wished it were true. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?

Your filthy pipe dreams, combined with his talented mouth, brought you closer to the edge. And you would’ve crossed it had he stayed still between your legs, his tongue fucking you until all the knots in your stomach loosened at once. But he didn’t. Jinwoo moved away right when you needed him the most, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip, tasting the sliver of your essence as he returned to you.

You whined in protest, frowning as you watched him crawl up your body. “Why did you stop—”

“I asked you a question.” His tone, gentle yet intimidating, led to goosebumps breaking on your skin. The hunter hovered above you domineeringly, staring down at you as if you were his prey. “And I demand an answer.” 

God, he sounds so sexy when he’s like this. “Of course, darling, I’ll never leave you. But…” Your lips tilted into a smirk. “I can’t deny there’s a part of me that wants to try, just to push your buttons and see how far you’ll go.” You angled your head slightly to the side, exposing the column your neck, your gaze painted over with allure. “Being punished like that isn’t so bad. Especially by you.”

“Is that so?” He showcased a nefarious smile, his face sinking into the crook of your neck. “I fear you’re playing a dangerous game, Sweetheart.”

“But that’s my favorite one to play, you know that.” You granted him more access to your skin, your eyebrows adjoined in the middle as he sucked an angry bruise on your collarbone. “So, indulge me, Jin,” you sighed out. “What would you do if I ran away?”

“I’ll hunt you down.” He felt you shiver under him, your body burning up quickly as excitement pumped through your veins. “I'll search the whole world for you to make you mine again.”

“Search the whole world for me, huh?” You forced out a breathy chuckle, your fingers threading through his hair as his mouth suckled on your breast. “But what if I’m very good at hiding? What if I—ngh, yes, right there—keep running away from you just to make it interesting?”

He drew his mouth away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his lip to your nub before he ran his tongue over it. “Oh, there will be no escaping me, Sweetheart,” Jinwoo smirked, his voice dense with confidence and arrogance. “But I’ll let you try your best. I love watching you struggle, after all. I love it when you get desperate for me.”

I guess that’s why we’re a match made in heaven. Because I love seeing you act that way, too. The sadistic glow in your eyes rivaled his own. “And what are you going to do to me once you catch me? You’ll have me locked up?”

“And tied up, if I had to.” The feelings of his lips traveling to your ear, his hot breath skimming across your lobe, his tongue sliding against your shell—everything filled your senses at once. “I’ll have you bound to my bed, and I’ll claim you any chance I get. Every day, every hour, every minute I’m awake, I’ll have my cock buried deep inside you, my teeth on your skin, my fingers in your mouth. You’d be mine, Sweetheart. Completely and utterly mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the vivid image he drew in your mind. Though you were certain he’d never have the heart to do such things to you, the mere thought of being used, controlled, dominated past your boundaries exhilarated you. “That sounds… exciting, actually.”

“Oh, I’ll make it so, Angel.” His hand glided up your thigh, his nails raking against your flesh. “I’ll make you feel all sorts of pleasure.” He pushed it forward, spreading your legs wide open for him. “And I’ll give it to you”—he pressed down on you, making sure you understand how much he was throbbing at the thought of ruining you—“Again”—he abruptly pushed hips forward, his cock sliding between your folds—“And again”—the protruding vein underneath his length rubbed against your clit, each thrust harder than before—“and again”—he watched you mewl at the sensation, at how wrecked you look beneath him, wanting so desperately to have him inside you—“until you’d never find the will to leave me again.”

Your hips moved on their own, rocking against him, matching every sway. No matter how much you tried to seduce him, Jinwoo refused to give it to you just yet, not until you understood the consequences of what you wished for. “What if I persist?” you asked between jagged breaths. “You know how stubborn I can be sometimes. Would you hurt me?”

Only then did he stop. He leaned back to stand on his knees, his grip tightening around your thighs as his gaze darkened. “I would never hurt you,” he said, stating it like a vow. 

You went still for a moment, stupefied by the sudden sincerity. “Too bad,” you smiled, a little minx disguised as an angel. “I think a little pain could be fun.” Curling your fingers around his wrist, you brought him closer to your neck. “Like this.” You guided him to splay his hand at the front of your throat, letting him feel your vein pulsing beneath his palm. “Wrap your fingers around my neck like this and—” You choked in the middle of your words, his fingers suddenly tautening around your throat, stilling your breath. He was only answering your challenge, doing what you taught him to do, but God, it made you weak, made you realize just how powerless you were beneath the man who could shatter your bones to dust.

Thank God, he promised not to hurt you, right?

You laughed softly, the sound strangled as he continued to hold you by the neck. “I—I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you said, your mouth breaking into a grin. “Never thought someone as gentle as you could choke me like this.” 

“Like I said,” he smirked, staring down at you mercilessly. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. If you want your limits to be tested, then I’ll make sure we find out.”

Jinwoo had had his hands around your neck before, but it was always with the intention of possessiveness, never controlling. And this? This excited you. It should’ve terrified you just how rough he was, but no. You loved it. You loved it so much, you could barely recognize yourself. 

He could see it, the way pain elevated your arousal, and it delighted him, his eyes gleaming in the temptation to do more, knowing how badly you enjoyed this type of pain. The sweet torture that only he could give. “Too tight, Sweetheart? Should we come up with a safe word?”

“N-no,” you coughed out, not wanting to lose, not yet. “I love it. I want it harder. Give it to me harder.” He did without hesitation, robbing another hiss out of you. "Fuck."

“Careful what you wish for, love,” he warned, bringing tears to the edges of your eyes. 

“I know what I wished for.” To his surprise, there was still a spark inside you. You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer to you. “Are you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck me now? Or maybe I should flip us over and ride you like last night. Maybe we should come up with a safe word then 'cause you best believe I’m not gonna let you off easy, Sweetheart.”

He chuckled, impressed by your taunt. He thought you were adorable. “Saying things like that with my fingers wrapped around your neck is a bold move, Angel.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable—” Your sentence ended abruptly in a silent moan when he thrust inside, filling you with everything at once, burying himself so deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach. 

Expletives toppled over your lips as you tossed your head back, feeling so full, so complete, your hands gripping onto the sheets. He fucked you slow, then fast, then slow again, throwing you off your rhythm, filling you with frustration, all the while keeping his hand on your neck. It doubled the tension, doubled the pleasure. The sense of danger was always there, like he could crush you any moment, and it was so, so damn thrilling that you fell into regret for not asking him to do this sooner. 

“Fuck,” he groaned through clenched teeth, his head hanging low as his body caged you inside. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Fucking you rough and deep—he could make you come just like that, you knew it. But then, seeing how close you were, Jinwoo pulled himself out entirely, choosing to squeeze his cock between your folds, sliding back and forth on the bundle of nerves, instead of stretching your walls apart.

“Jinwoo—” Your nails clawed against his wrist as your legs wound tightly around his hips. You pulled him down toward you, wanting nothing more but for him to bury himself to the hilt again. “Don’t tease me—”

“Tell me what you want, then.”

He was messing with you, a sight you rarely saw, as he was always determined to make you reach cloud nine as fast as he could. Mischief looked perfect on him, and as much as you wanted to witness it longer, your need for him was starting to grow painful. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

Though elated, he was far from satisfied. “More, Angel. Do your best.”

Fuck having him punished you. I’m going to punish you later for this. “Jinwoo, please! I need you to fuck me, please!”

That was it. That was the kind of desperation he wanted to see. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He chuckled near your ear, “You look the prettiest when you’re begging for my cock, you know that?”

Your walls clenched tightly around his throbbing length as a forbidden kind of pleasure burst through your system, feeling burned in the most exciting way. “Hard,” you breathed out, your throat dry. “I need you to fuck me hard, Jin.”

He felt like a king, owning the world in his hands. “Where’s your manners?”

“Please,” you said as tears glazed your eyes. “Please give it to me harder.”

Perfect rows of marbled teeth peeked from behind a wolfish grin. “Good girl.”

He lived up to your words. Every sway of his hips, every drive of his cock inside you was everything that you desired and more. You couldn’t scream his name as loudly as he wanted you to, your throat still strangled to produce anything louder than a whimper. But he relished the sight, nevertheless. If anything, he looked even more excited.

You felt it building, one wave of pleasure after another, ready to crash and drown you like the ocean. “Close, Sweetheart?” he asked, and you gave a shaky nod, biting your lip.

When you were put in a similar situation the night before, your body tensing as your orgasm approaching quickly, Jinwoo had sweetly kissed your temple and whispered, “Come for me, sweet girl. Let yourself go for me.” 

But right now…

“I’m gonna make it clear for you, Sweetheart, so I’ll say it again,” he said amidst heavy breaths, almost in a growl as his teeth grazed against your ear. “If you try to run away from me, I’ll wrap my hands around you again, just like this.” He tightened them slightly to paint a picture for you, the added pain nearly sending you over the edge. “And I’ll keep you here with me.” His tongue traced the contour of your ear, his smirk dark and sinful as he made an oath of his own. “And I’ll fuck you like this, the way you want me to. I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll only remember my name. And I'll keep fucking you until you stop wanting anything else, but me.”

He proved his words by snapping his hips roughly against yours, causing your vision to turn white. Your orgasm shook you to your core, your strength leaving you almost immediately as he continued to chase after his own high. As your body turned pliant beneath his, Jinwoo pried his hand away from your neck, choosing to slip his fingers between your own. His gesture romantic, a complete opposite of how he was a second ago.

“I’ll have you trapped in my arms, Angel,” he promised as your lids turned heavy. The feeling of his lips caressing your knuckles was the last thing you felt before your unconsciousness slipped away. 

“Forever.”

*** AN: I was going to include this in part 2 at first but I feel like it's too long and I don't want to drag the story any further than I already do LOL but throwing this scene away feels like a waste too so idk have your weekly dose of yandere!jinwoo ig 😌

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[hy6erion]

can we get more sub jayce pleaseeee? him being a whimpering whiny mess and you’re just teasing him but eventually give into his wants ?

𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞), 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥/ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, (𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭) 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨. 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐰 ♡

Jayce Talis had always been a man of strength.

Everything about him—from the way he carried himself in the council chambers to the sheer power he wielded in the Forge—radiated control, confidence, certainty. He was a leader, a man who made decisions, a man who never hesitated to take exactly what he wanted.

But not now.

Now, he was nothing more than a trembling, breathless mess, sprawled against the headboard, his powerful body glistening with a sheen of sweat, his muscles tight and coiled beneath his golden skin. His broad chest rose and fell with uneven, shallow breaths, his thick fingers wrapped around his own cock, moving in slow, slick strokes—because that’s all he had.

Because you had refused to touch him.

And it was killing him.

His cock was flushed dark, thick veins pulsing beneath his palm, the swollen tip glistening with pre-cum that kept dribbling down his knuckles with every agonizing movement. Every stroke sent sharp tremors through his thighs, his body twitching under his own touch—but it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Not when you sat there, completely clothed, watching him suffer.

Jayce had never felt so exposed.

You lounged at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over your thigh, your expression composed—like you weren’t even fazed by the sight of him reduced to this, trembling and needy, desperately rutting into his own fist.

“Please,” Jayce rasped, his voice raw, breaking with every syllable. “Baby, please—”

You tilted your head, as if truly considering his suffering, but your lips curled into a lazy smirk. “What is it, love?”

His head dropped back, teeth gritted, throat bobbing as he swallowed down a groan. His hair was damp at the temples, his abs tensing beneath the soft glow of candlelight, every muscle in his body drawn tight.

“You,” he forced out, his breath shuddering. “I need you.”

You let out a soft, thoughtful hum, dragging a single finger up the fabric of your thigh. “But you have your own hand.”

“It’s not the same,” he groaned, his voice almost a whimper, thick with frustration. “It’s never the same—please—”

“Is this what you do when I’m not around?” You leaned forward slightly, gaze dark, voice teasing. “All alone in that big, empty bed, jerking yourself off like some needy thing?”

Jayce whimpered.

His hips lifted, his hand tightening around himself, his body strung so tight he thought he might snap.

“Thinking about me touching you instead,” you mused, eyes locked on the way his cock twitched in his grasp. “Wishing it was my hand wrapped around you. My mouth—”

“Fuck—” He gasped sharply, his whole body shaking at your words, his breath coming in shallow pants.

“Poor thing,” you murmured, watching his muscles flex, his stomach tightening with every desperate jerk of his hips. “You were so close to breaking, weren’t you?”

His head lolled to the side, his lips parted, his breath hitching as his entire body shuddered.

You let the silence stretch, just long enough to let him suffer.

The sharp rise and fall of his chest.

The trembling in his legs.

The broken whimpers slipping through his lips, his cock twitching in his grasp, leaking for you.

And then, softly—mercifully—

“Okay.”

Jayce barely had time to process the word before your fingers replaced his, wrapping around his aching, neglected cock.

The moment you touched him, his body jerked, every muscle in him going rigid as a deep, wrecked moan tore from his throat.

“Oh—” His hands flew to the sheets, gripping them like a lifeline, his entire body twitching, his thighs trembling beneath you.

“Shhh,” you cooed, stroking him with slow, firm precision, your fingers gliding along the thick veins of his length, savoring every shudder that wracked through him. “There we go.”

Jayce was ruined.

His head dropped back, his mouth falling open, his chest rising and falling in erratic, stuttering breaths. “Oh my god—”

“You were so good for me,” you whispered, dragging your thumb over his slit, smearing the slick wetness over the swollen head. “So patient.”

“Fuck—, I—” His voice broke into a sharp gasp, his hips jerking up, desperately fucking into your hand, chasing the pleasure that had been denied to him for so long.

You hummed in amusement, watching him fall apart. “Look at you,” you murmured, tightening your grip. “So desperate. So messy.”

Jayce could barely think.

His hands were fisted in the sheets, his back arching, his thighs flexing beneath your touch, every stroke of your fingers sending fire licking up his spine.

“Please,” he gasped, his voice strained, wrecked, every syllable thick with need. “Don’t stop—fuck, don’t stop—”

But you had no intention of stopping.

Not when he was trembling beneath you like this, completely yours, so weak, so wrecked, so utterly desperate for you that he couldn’t do anything but take it.

And then, suddenly, his breath hitched.

His whole body seized, muscles locking tight, his stomach clenching, his hips jerking erratically—

And then he came.

The pleasure hit him like a violent storm, crashing over him in waves, tearing a broken, sobbing moan from his throat. His cock pulsed in your grip, thick ropes of cum spilling over your fingers, painting his own abs as his entire body shuddered beneath you.

You didn’t stop.

Not even when he whimpered, overstimulated, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body twitching under your hand.

“That’s it,” you whispered, milking him through it, savoring the way he broke in your grasp, pleasure wracking through him in uncontrollable tremors.

His head lolled to the side, his body completely limp, his skin flushed and glowing, his breath uneven. He was spent. Ruined.

But as you leaned over him, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his jaw, you whispered—

“Think you can give me another?”