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kechiwrites · 1 year

Note

Hello miss kechi may I request toxic but phenomenal dick game from baby daddy ghost 🤰🍆

i hope you literally meant baby daddy, because that’s what i wrote babe 😭 thank you so much for this request (i am SO sorry i made this angsty). i started writing and COULD NOT stop. also, LOVE the style of your blog. i’ll let y’all decide if this is still medic!reader...

toxic ex!ghost x reader

1/?

wc: 1.2k

cw: afab!reader but no gendered terms (i think), light spanking, taunting/teasing, riding, SMUT BABY, but also angst, toxic relationship, booty call culture, reader and ghost have a kid! ghost fucking SUCKS here, seriously he blows. no use of y/n, ever! mdni

“Come on then, you called me. Make the trip worth my while.” There’s an unusual amount of mirth in his tone, and you’d think with the way he’s staring at you that he was sitting on a golden throne encrusted with diamonds and not, y’know, laying on his back, in your bed, while you’re speared open on his erection.

“Take the mask off you fucking dick, I’ve already seen that ugly mug of yours.” You bite, bristling at his attitude.

To his credit, Ghost doesn’t rise to your bait, opting instead to brush the blunt tips of his fingers against your clit, shifting his hips to fuck the last few inches of his dick inside you. The stretch is just a little too good, and of course it was, because God was cruel and unfair and Ghost was unfortunately the best fuck you’d ever had. Which is definitely why it’d been three months since you last fucked anything besides your hand, and your ex was only too happy to provide when you called him for a “we’re not getting back together, I just know you’re off base tonight” booty call.

As always, Ghost underneath you is a feast for the eyes, even with the mask on. He lies supine, both arms behind his head while he lazily raises his hips in an effort to egg you on. You roll your eyes at his nonchalance, crouching with your legs bent so you have better range of motion.

The noise of your cunt welcoming him is embarrassingly audible and the upward thrust of his pelvis into yours drives all the air from your lungs in one calculated move. You let your head hang low, because God forbid he see the dazed, pleasured expression you always get on your face when he bottoms out, you’d never live it down.

Keyed up and wanting, you lean forward, shivering when the slide of his cock inside you reverberates up your spine, lighting up synapses you really, really, wished would just fucking die already.

They don’t of course. Fucking your ex still feels like hooking yourself up to a car battery; so slowly, glacially, you raises your hips incrementally, before sliding back down, letting the very last inch of the man’s dick leave and enter you repeatedly. Ghost groans below you, murmuring platitudes and compliments while he watches you take yourself apart on his cock, piece by trembling piece.

His hands move to your hips to guide you up and down his length, and his palms are heavy and warm, firm and unabating on your skin. The surety of his grip on you makes you forget why fucking him is such a rare occurrence nowadays, why your breakup was so messy and loud and lonely.

The insane fullness of Ghost pulling you down onto his dick again and again, fucking you like a toy, ellicits short-breathed pleas for more. You stomp your pride to death when he thumbs at your clit, sitting untouched, minding its business, at the top of your spread open pussy. It’s almost enough to make you forget the way your thighs are burning.

Almost.

“Okay, okay fuck, no more. Let’s do something else.” You huff, crumbling forward onto his chest, your forehead pressed against his collarbone. “Please.” you add for good measure.

You rise and fall on his chest when he scoffs, flipping the two of you easily. “You used to last a lot longer on top. Having a baby wear you out?”

Anger flares hot and fast in your chest and you nearly shove him off you. Nevermind it was his fucking kid he was taunting you with.

“I should’ve called Soap.”

“He wouldn’t know what to do with you.” He hammers a hard slap against your thigh before he manoeuvres you into a more comfortable position, your legs spread wide, framing either side of his midsection. There’s barely any hang time between the shift in placement and your ex plunging into you in earnest, and for that you’re thankful. Any time with the two of you that isn’t filled with barbs or fucking quickly devolves into regret and bitterness that lingers at the back of your throat like the stench of burning plastic.

Your thighs are soaked in sweat and slick at this point, amplifying the echoing clap of Ghost’s hips repeatedly, brutally meeting yours. He bends down to slot his lips over yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, coaxing participation out of you until you're giving as good as you get. Ghost is nothing if not consistent, ebbing where you flow until he’s completely blanketed you, just like he used to, pressing so close that there’s no space left between your chests. The way he grinds down into your cunt forces your clit to rub against his pelvis, producing a mind numbing buzz in your abdomen that continues to build as the head of his cock gets reintroduced to your g-spot. Ghost is blissfully quiet when he fucks you this close. Instead of talking down to you, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, trying his level best to mark you the only way he knows how; with stinging pain and suffocating possession. He wants to keep you, to lock you and his son up where no one can get you, where no one can see you, where he can keep you safe.

But you aren’t together and he can’t keep you.

So he settles for this.

Settles for pushing his cock deeper and deeper into you, until you cream sweet and pretty all over his thighs. Settles for wrenching your ridiculous need for control out of your shaking hands. Settles for fucking you like you still call him ‘Simon’. Ghost settles for being the man who you curse at during the day and come for during the night.

And you do come for him, quick and dirty but oh so satisfying, when he tosses your leg over his shoulder. You gasp and writhe underneath his hands, clenching your teeth and holding your breath while you ride out the sensation. It’s the mask, you think. Even after the last few years it still does something for you. It also helps make it feel…less personal. Like you’re back to being two people who fuck when it’s convenient, and not two people with baggage and memories and a whole ass human being between you.

He finishes not long after, rocking against you until he can’t stop the way the soles of his feet tingle and his hips stutter.

Then, it’s just the sound of your jagged inhales and exhales filling the space between you. He’s still so close, eyes shuttered closed while he throbs inside you, his shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath. You hook your fingers under the hem of his mask and he moves fast, clamping down on your wrist and squeezing until you let go.

‘That answers that.’ You think, and you laugh without humour. You can’t help but want to cover your face, cover your nakedness, now that the deed is done, and as if he senses the shift in you, Ghost stands, barely taking the time to clean himself up before he gets dressed.

By the time you move your arm from over your eyes, he’s at your bedroom door.

Hand on doorknob.

Ready to run.

You sit up and stare at him, reclined on your forearms. You give your assent with a jerky, unstable nod, and just like that, he’s gone.

The nickname is pretty fucking apt.

part 2

series masterlist here

i hope this wan’t too sad for what you had in mind! (if it was please feel free to request again). requests are open, support content creators and city girls, reblog!

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onlyswan · 1 year

Text

summary: in which cruel fate leads you and jungkook to bright places.

> fluff, a little twinge of angst? / wc: 4.2k

> warnings: none really. but if you’ve read the grocery store drabble, you really get lost in this one. hehe

note: oc!!! stop making him worry like this. cries in i love sweet boy jungkook sooo much. + i enjoyed writing this :[ <3 listened to cigs after sex while i was at it. and as you can tell i got very. carried away. scratches head. researching about pokemon bread was also kind of fun?

—

love is selfless— it’s what they often say. however, on his way home from work, jungkook finds himself admitting his ugly truth: he is selfish. when he arrives at your shared space, he will tangle his limbs with yours and let you drag him across the floor to wherever it is you need to go. he will hold on to you, and never let go. he will abandon the concept of time at the farthest corner of his mind, along with his exhaustive musings and responsibilities. instead, he will be consumed by you.

and sometimes, he finds that the telepathy connecting the two of you is baffling.

because he’s definitely not thinking about anything else but you. he’s scouring the entire apartment for any trace of life, but you’re nowhere to be found. the bed is still made. the bathroom lights are off. the pillows on the couch are organized. the center table is spotless. the kitchen is clean. he opens the trash bin, and the last thing tossed in there is still the egg tray he discarded this morning. he checks the laundry room, but the only clothes of yours in the laundry basket are from yesterday.

he ends up deciding that you’re not playing hide-and-seek with him like he originally thought. he sits on the counter top, anxiously playing with his lipring as he calls your number. again. and again. and again.

you did tell him earlier that you were going to visit the library, but it already closed an hour ago, so you should be home by now. moreover, if you were going to drop by other places, you would’ve updated him that you’d be home later at night. but you didn’t. the last text you sent him was a captured photo of page 73, an overview about thyme. you reminded him that he once mentioned that he wanted to grow some herbs in your balcony, so you’re doing some old-fashioned research about them in the library.

and thank heavens you answer the call on his fifth try, because he’s about to have a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen.

“jungkook!”

not to be dramatic, but if he was standing, his knees would’ve collapsed on the tiled floor at the sound of your voice. he swallows the lump in his throat, breathes deeply to unload the weight sitting on his chest.

“where are you?”

“oh, right! about that-” you chuckle nervously, and he can already imagine you tapping your foot against the floor. “wait. let me just-”

“how long? i can’t wait. i miss you. tell me where you are and i’ll pick you up.” he hops off the counter, making a beeline to the front door.

“yes, pick me up. please. i’m not sure where i am exactly but i just checked and my location is still turned on with you.”

oh shit. the location feature. why didn’t he think of that? and what do you mean by-

he pauses on his tracks, car keys back in his hand not even twenty minutes since he got off his car. “baby, how do you not know where you are?”

“uhm, i fell asleep in the bus . . . then i panicked and got off because i thought i missed my stop. but you’re not gonna believe what happened next!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers massaging his temple because he has a bad feeling about this. “okay. try me.”

“i realized i actually got on the wrong bus. stupid, right?” you giggle through the phone speaker, and it’s both endearing and ridiculous that you can still laugh in this situation.

nevermind that, he’s just relieved that you’re safe.

“i walked for a while and found this convenience store with a charging station. i emptied my battery trying to book a taxi but none accepted me!”

your whiny voice makes him smile, although he looked forward to hearing it more when he planned to be disgustingly clingy and affectionate.

“i’ll go, baby. just wait for me there, okay?” he presses the down button, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“okaaay.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

he puts you on speaker mode when he enters, checking on your location to see how far you’ve strayed from home. you got on the wrong bus. no mistake about that.

“you’re an hour and three minutes away.”

he hears you choke out a cough from the other line, most probably on a drink. “an hour?! by foot, right?”

“no,” he chuckles. late night drives with you aren’t new, so he doesn’t mind it one bit. “by car.”

silence fills the air for a few seconds. “then i’ll drive on the way back. i’m about to eat ramyeon so i’ll be energized!”

“let’s see if i get too tired to drive. just stay on the phone for me, okay?”

“wait- i’m hungry. need to go put hot water in my noodles. let’s switch to video call.”

when he accepts the video call, he’s greeted by the candy and chocolate shelf in landscape view. you probably propped up your phone on the charging station, so he adjusts his phone’s position to match yours. and you . . . are nowhere to be found. again.

he’s already driving out on the road when you appear on his screen. you smile at him, waving the chopsticks in your hand.

“i’ll do a live mukbang for you in a few minutes.”

he takes a brief glance, memorizing the way you look before reverting his attention to the road. a small smile grows on his face, a huge wave of love flooding his system. “you look so pretty today.”

“thank you. it took me thirty minutes to pick out my outfit.” you chirp happily before revealing the hand hidden behind your back, holding up a special item you stumbled upon during your little adventure. “look what i found! do you want it?”

“what is it?” he asks as he makes a turn.

“team rocket’s pokemon bread. it’s chocolate.” you inspect the bread again to confirm that you’re correct. “it’s the last one on the shelf so i just bought it.”

his eyes widen in surprise, lips forming an ‘o’. he personally knows many people who have been visiting stores until the late hours to buy them. it’s all the rage nowadays.

“oh? you actually found one?!”

“don’t you think fate led me here for this?” you gush excitedly.

he finally stops at a red light, taking a good look at you with fondness. “you’re giving it to me?”

“yes. enjoy it, okay? i walked in boots for this.” you point at the camera threateningly.

so adorable. he misses you so much.

he obediently crosses his fingers to forge a promise. “i won’t leave a single crumb uneaten.”

“good boy,” you poke the camera as if you’re booping his nose. “i left my food too long. i’ll go get my overcooked ramyeon now.”

you disappear again, and he resumes his journey leading to you. you return moments later, devouring a cup of ramyeon. you’re holding it with some tissue paper. you were never really good with touching hot things— you drop them without thinking twice . . . which is a health hazard.

and it stays like that for a little while. as jungkook drives, he looks at you and the navigation guide every now and then. just to make sure he’s turning to the correct lefts and rights as the voice says; and to give himself the assurance that you didn’t stray somewhere else again. you, on the other hand, is too focused on your food to give your boyfriend a smidge of attention. that’s how mukbang asmr is, right? only eating sounds?

the cashier is probably thinking of you funny for eating infront of your boyfriend via video call in a public place. you couldn’t care less. it’s been a long day, and staying still in this small corner of the earth feels oddly comforting.

you’re in the middle of sipping down the leftover broth at the bottom of the cup when you hear movement from the aisle behind you. being nosy as you are, you find yourself taking a peek. you take quick and light steps back to jungkook to tell him about what you saw.

“babe, they’re restocking the pokemon breads. i’m the only person left here.” you whisper with one hand covering your mouth from the side, as if you’re sharing a secret. “i’ll buy more.”

he unconsciously copies the gesture and the volume of your voice. “do they have the other flavors too?”

“yes. keep driving safe. be right back.”

you dash to the other aisle, and jungkook and the long row of kitkats play a staring contest in the middle of traffic yet again.

familiar with your nature, it is entertaining to watch you participate in the pokemon bread hunt out of the blue. very on-brand and-

“so competitive.” he laughs to himself.

—

“hi!” you beam at the camera, hugging the paper bag inhabited by your new prized possessions. “uh, we have eight in total. i bought one of each flavor so there’s two team rocket now. and three jigglypuff bread just because- um-”

jungkook stifles his laughter. oh, of course you did.

“it’s so cute. i couldn’t help myself.” you sigh, slightly feeling guilty. other people do hoard them and buy everything off the shelf, so you think about that to feel less bad about taking all the jigglypuffs.

fuck. if you’re being this cute over a jigglypuff bread, he might just have to join everyone and do convenience store raids, too.

“you’re kind for still leaving some. i saw a person in the internet buy all the pokemon breads in the store they went to.”

“right?! i saw that, too.” you exclaim, relieved that you had the same thought as him.

“did you get me my pikachu, though?”

“of course. pikachu must always be present!” you answer proudly as you unplug your phone after seeing that it’s already at 50%. “i’m getting bored here. there’s a thrift shop just beside this, so i’ll go see if they’re still opened.”

jungkook drums his fingers on the steering wheel, following a beat he’s making up on the spot. “alright. i’m only fifteen minutes away, so don’t go anywhere else.”

”yes, sir.”

“and don’t end the call.”

“i won’t. you’ll miss me.”

he clicks his tongue before sighing, expressing his frustrating sorrow. “i already do.”

—

the air from outside is warmer, and it engulfs you the second you pull the door open. it makes your skin feel sticky and uncomfortable. the thought of going back inside enters your mind, but the idea gets shot down immediately after. might get tempted to buy more bread.

the thrift shop heavily contrasts the vivid conveniece store. there is no door. racks of pre-loved clothing greet you by the entrance, leading to more of them inside. a lone warm lightbulb illuminates the cramped space, hanging in the middle of the dirty white ceiling. and the smell. oh, the smell— it causes nostalgia to rush throughout your body.

a woman emerges from the wooden counter. she’s in her 50s, if you had the guess. you make eye-contact, and her kind eyes eases your uncertainty about whether you’re allowed to enter or not.

“you can still look around if you want. i’m just cleaning before i close up.”

“oh, thank you!” you politely bow before approaching the long rack of shirts and long-sleeves against the wall. you’ve been eyeing them since the moment you arrived.

left with no other choice, you leave the paper bag of pokemon breads on the floor, under one of the racks. you carefully lean your phone against a shoe on the shelf above it, just a little higher than your eye-level. you smile unbeknownst to yourself. your jungkook looks extra handsome when driving. while he admittedly has a short attention span, he’s very focused on the road when he’s behind the wheel.

you’re already browsing through the clothes when he glances at his phone. he can only see half your face, but he also hears your fast hands pushing back the hanger of the ones that don’t capture your interest.

your love for shopping doubled when you entered a relationship with jungkook, because purchasing items you think he like or need also brings you an unexplainable joy. it’s not limited to clothes or accessories. for example, you bought him white and blue acrylic paint two months ago because you noticed that he used them all up for a project.

after more or less ten minutes, there are already two t-shirts and one sweater hanging on your forearm. one of the t-shirt is yours. it matches with one of your trousers that you barely wear.

you’ve walked past the camera frame when you stumble upon a black bomber jacket, looking so cool and brand-new, which explains why it’s a bit on the pricier side. and you know jungkook has a lot of other black jackets back at home, but you just can’t help yourself because it reminds you so much of him.

it’s so jungkook. you can’t allow it to live in another person’s closet.

you approach the counter with the clothes you picked out. the woman halts her sweeping outside, leaving the broom against the wall before wiping her hands on her long skirt, the floral print noticeably faded with time. you hastily grab the belongings you left unattended, putting your phone’s microphone on mute to keep your little surprise.

there’s no paper bills left in your wallet after spending all your money on food and clothes. with a grimace, you drop it inside your bag. you were only supposed to go to the library today, spend a little money on bus fare and lunch. perhaps, spontaneously add in a little snack in between. however, this is called spontaneity out of hand.

“are these for your boyfriend’s birthday?” the woman asks in a hushed, yet teasing, voice as she folds up the jacket.

two pairs of eyes fall on the phone you’re holding, and you smile sheepishly. “i’m trying to make everyday his birthday.”

“he’s very handsome. you better take good care of him!”

you cover your face in embarrassment, silently laughing. “we take good care of each other! he’s coming to pick me up because i couldn’t find a taxi.”

“oh dear, are you new here?” she stuffs the jacket in the big plastic bag, along with the other clothes you bought. “there’s barely any taxis here after 9pm. everyone just walks. many complaints about it, but good exercise for my rusty bones when they ask me.”

“i’ll keep that in mind for next time.” you wrap your left arm around the bag of clothes, sliding it off the counter until you’re carrying its full weight. “thank you again. have a great night! and stay healthy!”

you stumble on the single step leading outside because the weight of the breads and clothes are unbalanced. thankfully, you make it out of the shop without a scratch. the woman bids you a safe trip and picks up the broom, the melancholia of night-time quietness blanketing her home once again.

you look down at your phone to find that the video call with jungkook has ended, but before you can question him, a familiar voice sings your name from a close distance.

“jungkook!” you call out to him, crossing the distance between you in high spirits. “you really came for me!”

jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “you really thought i’d leave you here stranded? you always make me worried.”

“i never do it on purpose.” you frown, shoulders sagged with guilt.

“that makes it more worrisome.” he breathes out a sigh. “come here. i missed you.”

“i want to hug you, but my hands are full.”

he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight embrace. he feels you give a chaste kiss to his jaw before leaning your cheek on his shoulder, and just like that, his anxiety melts away. your favorite perfume invades his sense of smell. as a person with a sensitive nose, many perfumes often give him a headache. he is in love with yours. it’s sweet and subtle; it feels like coming home.

“i was so excited to come home but you weren’t there.”

“i’m sorry for always making you worry. i’ll be more mindful next time.” you apologize to him with a kiss on the cheek, and you feel it rise against your lips when he smiles. “oh no, wait. the bread- they’re going to get all mushed up.”

he reluctantly untangles himself from you, taking away the heavy load you’re carrying without you having to ask. this is when you swiftly snatch the car keys from his hand.

“i want to drive this time.”

he breathes out a sigh of relief. “oh my god, thank you. i’m getting sleepy.”

—

it’s impossible not to quickly look over to the passenger seat when a bright flash fills the vehicle. surprise, surprise! instead of sleeping, jungkook is taking pictures of the packs of pokemon bread he eagerly arranged on his lap.

“that flash is brighter than the sun.”

he throws a thumbs-up with an overly enthusiastic voice. “samsung!”

you swear, every chance he gets he promotes thei-

“don’t you dare steal my jigglypuff.”

he raises his arms in surrender, making balloons with his cheeks. “i just didn’t know they were strawberry flavored. i’m tasting team rocket’s chocolate rolls first. namjoon-hyung likes it.”

he carefully tears it from the other side to keep team rocket’s image unharmed. he takes a bite from the choco roll, and feeds the remaining half to you.

“mhmmm.” he hums, eyebrows furrowed in sheer delight. “it’s so good? i’m glad you bought another.”

he divides another roll in the middle. he munches on his share as he waits for you to finish your first bite. while he does as such, he suddenly perks up when he remembers the story he was supposed to tell you.

“i saw a group of guys enter the convenience store when i arrived earlier. they were looking for pokemon bread, too.”

“how’d you know?”

“i heard one of them say ‘this one better have the gastly bread or i will cry.’” he imitates the stranger’s deep voice speaking in a whiny manner. “it was funny.”

“then he’s probably on his way home crying now.” your giggles create a harmony.

that store did not have gastly bread, unfortunately.

—

“moment of truth.”

jungkook locates the pokemon sticker after you finish the rest of the bread. you wait with bated breath as he unveils the first out of eight stickers.

he gasps as he comes face-to-face with- “it’s snorlax! number 143 . . . 143.” he freezes as he scans his memory for the special meaning of the number code. “doesn’t that mean ‘i love you’?”

“it does,” you confirm with a grin. “i told you it was fate! isn’t it the best love confession?”

while living with you is a type of intimacy he values greatly, and protects everyday, getting lost in unfamiliar places with you has a charm of its own. it’s one of the days when he allows himself to say: jungkook, you lived well today.

he presses the sticker on your cheek, giving you a kiss through snorlax. “i love you, too.”

—

“since we can’t finish all these bread tonight, we’ll open the rest tomorrow.” jungkook announces as he sets down the plastic bag on the floor. in the meantime, snorlax is kept in his wallet for safety purposes.

he carries the clothes to his lap next, curious eyes and curious hands taking out the items one by one. he squeaks a sound of amazement. “you found quite a lot in that shop.”

“they had a lot of good stuff. i got the dark green-ish shirt. the rest are for you.”

he holds the baby blue sweater by the shoulders, letting the rest of it unfold and hang suspended in the air. “this one is so pretty.”

“oh! i really like that one. might borrow it a lot.”

“you’d look pretty in it. especially in the winter.” he says fondly. the mental image of you wearing it surrounded by snow is making him miss the season that just passed.

you pout. “but i got it for you. so wear it more than me.”

“i will. i want to wear it to work right after laundry day.” you beam in contentment, and he pats your head appreciatively. “you’re so fucking cute, baby. thank you for buying it for me.”

the black jacket catches his attention next, and the galaxies in his eyes sparkle as he takes in its the details and overall appearance. “this is totally my style! how does it look so brand-new?”

“right? it’s a steal so i had to buy it!”

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a conscious effort to restrain himself from attacking you with hugs and kisses. buying treats and gifts for each other on random days— it’s grown to be a second nature in your relationship. this is why you always go on trips on birthdays and anniversaries instead of buying big gifts. he loves that there’s no pressure, and the element of surprise never fades. he loves that he knows what you like, and you know what he likes. a huge part of what makes him who he is has permanently resided in who you are, and vice versa. he will carry you with him for the rest of his life, just like the food he learned to love because his childhood friend forced him to have a bite, and how he adds a bar on top of the letter J because it reminds him of the number 7.

so from now on, he will refuse to wear any other jacket but the one you bought him, and he will think of you every time the sky is baby blue.

“i think this is going to be one of those clothes i’d wear all the time. like the first sneakers you got me.”

“oh god,” you chuckle at the old memory. if people didn’t know he was rich, they would’ve thought he only had one pair of shoes. “you really wore those out.”

“that’s how much i loved it!”

“okay, but you need to wash it before wearing it.”

“i’ll wake up earlier to do laundry.” he starts planning out his day inside his head as he folds up the clothes to put back inside the bag. but then he traces his thoughts two hours backwards, and he is reminded physical affection he’s been craving the whole day.

“can we cuddle when we get home?”

“of course, my love.” you raise an eyebrow in question. “when do we not cuddle?”

“i just missed you a lot today.” he sighs, turning over to his side to look at you. perhaps, also to memorize the street lights reflecting on your face, and how your beige cardigan has slipped down your shoulder. oh, the urge to write a song at this magical moment.

“what’s wrong? did anything bad happen today?” pure concern adorns your voice. you hate it when he’s sad. so much. you want to shield him from everything bad in the world.

“nothing.” his face starts to feel flushed, one of the dead giveaways that he’s emotional. “i just love you, that’s all. you get it, right?”

you have never been more grateful to meet a light that just turned red.

you solely focus on him momentarily, combing his hair with your fingers because it always helps him to relax. “feeling a little overwhelmed, is that it?”

he only nods as a reply. he catches your hand in his to give your knuckles a kiss, plushy lips caressing the tough bones of your doting hand.

“we’re almost home. wanna cuddle in the bathtub?” you propose when you recognize the familiar scenery through his window. the promising comfort and safety of your home causes exhaustion to come crashing down on you. your muscles are suffering the consequences of your actions, and therefore, are asking for compensation.

jungkook seems to be relishing in the idea, doe eyes sparkling instead of shining with unshed tears. “please, that sounds nice. but i’m sorry for when i fall asleep in there.”

—

you laugh nervously as you enter your parking lot. you do have your license, but you don’t drive very often. maybe three times a month at most. you find driving to be energy consuming despite being seated, so you much prefer commuting because it also serves as your rest time before and after attending to your duties.

“i need to reverse park before we can get into the bathtub, so you have to help me.”

and yes, additionally, you just simply hate reverse parking with burning passion.

“why do you hate reverse parking so much?” your boyfriend asks out of curiosity.

good question.

“i know we have cameras now, but i’m still always scared of bumping into other cars.”

he flashes you his old-fashioned captivating smirk, resting his hand behind the driver’s seat. what makes it funnier is that you’re not even looking. you’re too preoccupied with finding your parking space.

he raises his eyebrows teasingly, doe eyes turning into small slits as they do when he’s playfully flirting. “you don’t have to be scared of such thing, baby. i’ll pay for the damages.”

“you’re jinxing it! i’ll definitely mess up that ferrari now!”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @luaspersona + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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chronosdawn · 1 year

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I feel like Wanderer loves it when you get jealous over him.

He's aware that by human standards he has an unfairly pretty face, the sort that draws the eye in an appreciative way right up until he opens his mouth and unleashes his sharp tongue on whoever has been unwise enough to try and engage him in conversation. Usually any interest is lost all at once and with the subtlety of a Sumpter Beast in a china shop.

Occasionally though, and for reasons he is still unable to fathom, the vitriol spewed from his lips is not enough to deter the would-be suitor and they lean into his space close enough that he can smell the alcohol on their breath as they invite him for a drink. The first time this happened in your presence he'd made his disinterest apparent immediately and sent the loser scurrying off with their tail between their legs, but he's since learned that if he waits just long enough, he gets to see an expression of yours he's not often treated to.

He's seen jealousy take many forms over his years living among and observing humanity in all its ugliness. Yours is a subtle sort, the type that can only be picked up on by one who has studied each and every one of your tells with a fervency that would put the most dedicated of Akademiya scholars to shame. A slight crease in your brow and pinch in the skin at the corner of your lips as you worry the inside of your mouth between your teeth.

You never actually step in, not unless it looks like the drunken fool is likely to turn violent when told no, and even then you know he can more than handle himself. But even after the nuisance is long gone, their lingering impact can be felt in the way you sit a little closer to him than you usually do in public, the way you softly curl your pinky around his when you think he's not paying attention and the faint guilt in your eyes if he calls you out on it.

Of course you, always so frustratingly full of goodness, would see the barest glimmers of jealousy as some awful act to be ashamed of—nevermind the fact you frequently witnessed his own displays of it and yet still chose to remain by his side unfalteringly.

It shouldn't please him the way it does, the knowledge that whatever small kernel of selfishness lurks in your noble heart is reserved almost entirely for him—over him.

But that awareness doesn't mean he'll send the next person who tries their luck with him away before he has a chance to see it again.

#wanderer brainrot #wanderer x reader #Scaramouche x reader #genshin reader insert #GN!reader #genshin x reader

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straykidshoe · 3 months

Text

Yes doctor

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Mature (Smut)

MUSIC: I hope you know what you're doing by KiNG MALA

CONTAINS: Doctor!au, strangers to lovers

SMUT WARNINGS: over the underwear orgasm, oral f!recieving, teasing f!recieiving. Please message me if i misseed anything.

WORD COUNT: 1,530

A/N: Don't read too much into the medical malpractice.

You rubbed your palms against your slacks, the silky material doing nothing to stop the constant flow of sweat. The nurse did offer you a set of scrubs but you refused, your nerves being too overpowering for you to actually register her question- which you were now regretting. As you sat in the partially empty waiting room, you started to reflect on how you actually ended up here. Initially, you thought that it was your own decision, that you were taking charge of your own health, being that girl- but in truth, your past partners had managed to weasel the notion that something was wrong with you, into your brain.

You couldn’t orgasm, not by someone else’s devices anyway, if you were alone with your fingers and vibrator you could decently cum to the point where you weren’t sexually frustrated- but you had never experienced the fireworks and blinding light that all your girlfriends would go on and on about. At first you would lie to your ex’s, forcefully clenching down on their fingers and panting deeply- but soon enough they would realise that you in fact did not cum. And boy, were their ego’s bruised. Nonsense would start to spew out of their mouth and some of them just called you ugly, you even tried a one night stand- that didn’t turn out well, it felt like you were a tree and a big grizzly bear was just helplessly rutting into you.

So here you are, on a Tuesday evening at the gynaecologist’s monochrome waiting room, flipping through a flimsy magazine- you still had your work clothes on, the white blouse and black slacks you had paired together in the morning lent themselves to the decor. Helping you blend in and mask your shame.

After a few minutes of inner turmoil and self loathing- a nurse had called out your name, guiding you to a dark wood door- on which a metal name plate read, ‘Dr. Hwang Hyunjin’.

Well this could only go well, he even sounded like a pretentious asshole- maybe it’ll lighten the blow when he told you that you had a rare disease where you could never cum at the hands of a man. Well you could be a lesbian, that wouldn-

‘Ah, Miss Y/L/N- come in. Take a seat’ A deep voice cut off your trail of thought as the door swung open you were met with a face. But not just any face- an angelic, beautiful face. One that was probably carved by Aphrodite herself, nevermind a gift from her- he was birthed out of her. You stood there for a while, dumbstruck, analysing his smooth skin and focussing on the birthmark just underneath his almond eye,

‘Miss Y/L/N ?’ the same baritone flowed through your ears, like hot caramel, it encompassed you in a warm cocoon, you blinked a few times- trying to clear the delicious fog that had began to form in your mind,

‘Yes-’ you cleared your throat, in hopes that you would snap back into reality, ‘Yes, that’s me.’ The man laughed, his eyes crinkling up until crescents, ‘Yea, Come on in,’ he moved to the side, arm outstretched. Laughing sheepishly, you bunched up your shoulders as you stepped in- sitting on the chair that was in line with his desk.

He followed suit, pulling out and sitting on the chair diagonal to you- he leant forward, reaching to shake out your hand.

As you accepted it, you marvelled at the sheer size of his palm and length of his fingers- he was warm, like a sensual dance that slowly made your blood bubble in your fucking vena cava. He felt like a welcomed heartburn.

‘Hi, my name is Dr.Hwang. And you are?’ He grinned at you, mischief gleaming through his brown iris’. Like in a forest when the sun would stream through the trunks of the tall trees.

‘You already know that’ You replied, sporting an equally cheeky grin, ‘But, since I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. My name is Y/N’

He leaned back giving you a smirk whilst holding his hands up in mock surrender

‘You caught me, I like to think that most patients get more comfortable if we properly introduce themselves’ .

He then swivelled in his chair to reach for a clipboard- the medical form attached flapped with his harsh movement, ‘Your medical file said “unspecified” so I only assume you wanted to tell me directly what was wrong.’ He brought his gaze up from the form towards your face, which was now flushed with embarrassment, rubbing your sweaty palms together,

‘Yeah so- I can’t cum.’ You chuckled as his eyes widened into saucers and a faint dusting of red reached his ears- he cleared his throat harshly whilst tugging at the knot of his tie. Holy fuck, those veins, you wonder what they would look like when wrapped around your-

‘You can’t..cum?’ He jotted down something on his paper, before placing the clipboard on his desk. This guy couldn’t let you finish one thought.

‘Yes, I can’t.’ He arched an eyebrow up at you, was he really a doctor? Maybe he was a model in his past life,

‘As in, you have never experienced an orgasm. Ever?’ His voice was shaky as he snapped on some bright blue gloves.

‘Dr Hwang, I have never cum at the hands of a man.’ Noticing the way his thighs constricted under his slacks made you realise that maybe, this attraction wasn’t one sided.

‘Please call me Hyunjin,’ He muttered as he rolled towards you- folding the sleeves of his white coat up to his elbows, ‘I find it’s better for certain patients.’

You ignored his last comment, trying not to think about the countless amount of women that have probably drooled over him like you are right now, ‘So, do I need to sit there- how do you want me?’

Nice choice of words.

Once again, you managed to gauge a reaction out of him- his arms constricted as he gripped his poor slacks and he sighed deeply through his nose as he looked down,

‘Just there, on the bed-’ He looked back up as he pointed to the medical bed, tucked away in the corner, ‘I need you to, uhm, take off your underwear and pants.’

You choked on your spit,of course you had to take your underwear off. It's a gynaecologist visit for god sake,

‘Uhm, yeah obviously.’ Silently, you walked to the bed, taking support of it so that you could slowly drag down your slacks. You tried not to look directly at him as you felt his eyes boring into your now naked legs- God damn is he intense.

You rubbed your thighs together as you felt the damp material stick to your folds, there is now probably a 99% chance that there was a dark patch of soiled cotton right where your hot sex was.

‘You need some help?’ His condescending voice sent a shiver throughout you, you finally met his dark gaze- it felt like he held a live wire and was millimetres away from shocking you as he slowly stood and made his way to your body. You nodded, scared that if you opened your mouth- even just an inch; that a series of moans and whimpers would flow out- Hyunjin smiled at your meek demeanour, like you were an innocent rabbit and he was a sly fox.

He inhaled deeply as he dragged his nose along your neck, hands caressing your’s, he made a slow descent down your body- nudging your flowy blouse slightly, he layed small pecks on your stomach. Soon he reached the band of your underwear, looking up at you he waited for confirmation, ‘Please..’ you breathed out, groaning in frustration, when he kissed the front of your underwear before moving further down to your clothed pussy. You wretched your hand away from him, to grip on the bed behind you whilst one of his hands wandered up and under your shirt, grazing at the band of your bra- the other dragging up and down your thighs.

Soon enough he had reached the damp material, chuckling when he nudged your covered clit with his nose- making you jolt backwards, ‘I haven’t even touched you yet-’ he prodded your leaking hole with his finger, ‘Look how you pussy wants me..’ he lazily brought his eyes to yours before licking a strip along your underwear, humming as your whole body erupted in goosebumps. What the fuck is this.

He reached for one of your hands whilst keeping his mouth latched on your pussy, his tongue continuously prodding your hole, he found purchase on the hand that was grasping the paper sheet on top of the bed for dear life. Wrapping his fingers around yours he guided them beneath the barrier adorning your throbbing heat- letting you rub harsh circles on your swollen clit. As he rockede back on his haunches he watched you as you helplessly jerked your hips upwards, searching for further friction to help you reach your orgasm whilst moaning softly. You gasped as with one hand he played against your abdomen, halting your jerky movements in place. Whimpering as he moved your underwear to the side.

Leaning forward he blew cold air against your glistening folds, you let out a guttural groan as you gripped his black locks with both hands- trying to push his head further towards your cunt, desperate to feel him ravage you.

‘Uh uh uh, need you to tell me what you want..’ he kissed your slit gently, chuckling when you moaned into the humid air surrounding the two of you. You turned your head to the side, not wanting him to see your expression as you began to stutter, ‘A-anything. God please, just do anything. Just want you..’ You were on the verge of tears, if this is what euphoria felt like, you would happily welcome it with open arms,

You could hear him coo from beneath you, ‘What are you doing to me Y/N?’ he muttered under his breath.

Jesus you like the way he said your name- like it’s a secret.

dipping two of his fingers into your cunt he collected your wetness before placing them into his mouth, moaning as your tangy sweetness blanketed his taste buds.

‘I think I know the exact prescription for you..’ He kitten licked your clit, grinning wolfishly when he saw your folds flutter around nothing, ‘Would you like a demonstration,’ he quirked his eyebrow up at you, ghosting his plump lips over your glistening pussy.

You let out a shaky breath, ‘Yes doctor..’

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simonrillleyyysss · 7 months

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆ THESE THINGS

philip graves x gothic!reader

wrote as afab,but gn implied 🖤

Implied that reader is tall(ish?) (5’8-5’9)

warnings; mild flirting, graves stares a few times, mention of boobs??? being mean to graves. literally just silly arguing that turns into fluff🗿drinking(alchohol), masturbation(fem! And male!) ‘enemies to lovers’ trope, mutual pining

graves lives in your apartment complex; and does whatever he can to annoy you.

note;as someone who has been/is in the goth scene this was so fun to write 🥹🥹 writers block is stopping so much from happening so if I don’t get much content out I’m sorry

Ever since you moved in, he’d had an issue with you.

At first, it started out as small, simple things to tick you off; wether it be playing his music explicitly loud enough for you to hear through the thin walls of the apartment nextdoor, or giving you nasty glances as you walked past him in the foyer,Philip never looked pleased to be around you.

It turned mutual after a while, if he condescendingly asked you how your day was when walking past? A snarky comment, a snicker or a mean glare, waving him off, even knocking on his door and running away in the middle of the night.

So when you were stood in the foyer, pressing the button of the lift and held his arm brush over yours, you cocked a brow, the sleeves of his button up-dressshirt rolled up, jeans hanging antagonisingly low on his hips, belt keeping them up, his face a sour scowl—brows furrowed.

‘Morrninng, Philip.’

You said with a mockingly kind tone, a snarky smirk on your lips, the name falling from your lips like a curse.

“Evenin’,

Didn’t expect to see you here, thought you would’ve been at work..

Then again, I don’t think anyone would hire someone of your..

Nevermind.”

His accent was piercing, almost like nails on a chalkboard—southern blabbering.

A humble grin rose at the corners of his lips, looking down at you;studying you, ghostly pale skin adorned with jewellery, long legs holding you upright,heavy—cold eyes, full lips naturally forming into a frown, thick lashes patting again your cheek, black hair dangling by your shoulders,thick liner smudging against your lids, piercings cluttering your face,breasts smushing together inside that tight little bra of—

‘Elaborate?’

Your quick retort pulled him from his thoughts, watching as he brushed a strand of sandy, blonde hair from his tanned face.

“Do I need to?”

Philip said, giving you a quick glance up and down.

“Your face has more holes thanna’ brothel, for a start.”

He said nonchalantly, watching as the lift arrived before stepping inside, hands hidden in his jean pockets as he watched you slide in beside him.

“Nobody’ wants to hire someone like you.”

‘Shame.’

The ding of the elevator alerted you both, stepping out as you parted ways, giving him a grumble.

A little drink couldn’t hurt.

That’s what your friends had convinced you, dragging you to their night out, just bar hopping.

It did hurt, though. Especially when you seen his ugly, smug face standing at the end of the pooltable, group of men gathered around him, talking and drinking.

Philip was staring right at you, eyes narrowed as you visibly frowned and quickly turned to stand at the bar, crossing your arms and leaning on the aged wood, lacy black dress riding up your thigh.

“You clean up nicely, gotta say.”

‘Mhm.’

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass carelessly, causing Graves to grumble, running his tongue over his teeth, looking at you.

“Didn’t know you could leave your house.”

‘I can, just don’t wanna.’

His brows knitted together, resting against the aged wood of the bars counter.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

‘Funny, if you’re gonna drug me, do it in a less obvious manner.”

“Course not, you’d probably be immune anyways seeing as..”

You scoffed, kicking his calf and earning a snigger from the man across, almost towering over him in your boots.

‘I’d watch what you say, Mister.Graves.’

“Mhm.”

Once he’d ordered your drink and handed it to you, you took short sips, glancing at him from the corner of his eye as she trudged off, pint in his own hands; thick, calloused fingers tightening around the full glass— control yourself.

“Oh—fuck!”

A short gasp left your lips, slowly inching the dildo inside your wet cunny, long fingers moving down to massage quick circles against your puffy clit, eyes closed tightly.

Feeling the long silicone drag in and out of your pussies walls, it was exhilarating, back arching as pleas and begs fell from your lips.

‘oh—oh Phil!”

‘shit!’

‘hahaaaaahhh..—keep going!’

Soon enough, Graves had heard his ear pressed against his bedroom wall, listening to your pleas and cries—his name falling from your lips desperately, his hand eagerly dipping into his boxers, stroking his semi-hard cock, pretty pink tip leaking precum.

“Christ..Y/n—goddamnit..”

“Dirty whore…”

Feeling your orgasm approach, you rubbed clit with a desperate speed, almost screaming as you squirted along your sheets—sliding the dildo out of your pretty cunnie, slick with your squirt.

Unfortunately, for Graves—he was left blueballed that night, whimpering and whispering as he attempted to jerk off; but to no avail.

Asshole.

“Will you go out with me?”

His sudden voice as you opened the door caused you to short circuit, eyeliner smudged from previous attempts of makeup, looking down at him with lips agape, glancing right at him, bouquet of purple flowers in his hands, hair gelled and a cocky smirk on his lips.

“Got purple, didn’t have any black ones.”

“Is it a Yes?”

‘…I’ll think about it, come in for some tea?”

#Spotify #rushed but it’s okay #könig x reader #ghost x reader #soap mactavish x reader #graves fluff #philip graves x reader #graves x you #philip graves #graves cod #graves x reader

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storiumemporium · 9 months

Text

Little Gifts (1/3)

Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SINGLE POST FOR ALL THREE SCENARIOS GOD FUCKING DAMMIT—

ahem :)

This is Aegon meeting his babies for the very first time, please enjoy!

| Word Count 6.2k | Angst, Fluff | Childbirth, brief absentee-ism, Aegon has parental issues out the ass, general cuteness at the end |

Gods help Kings’ Landing once Aegon The Elder realizes he’s going to be a father.

It’s a tumultuous time at best, though never one that came directly at your expense. Aegon had never wanted children, he always told you. Bound up in the sheets and in your arms, with cruel platitudes about how they were smelly, messy, foul little creatures. That you already had one of those to deal with, and you didn’t need that one to put another in you.

This, of course, was a lie. And you knew that, you did. Aegon who hates children, yet gives them more patience than any other in the world. Sitting at the steps of the Keep and listening to some Lord’s boy excitedly tell him about a cat he saw prowling about the gardens. Never sparing a mean word, or even so much as a look of boredom. Aegon does not have patience, Aegon does not suffer things that he does not like for anyone save that of his family.

Aegon loves children, Aegon is terrified of them.

You came to the Keep when the Queen Mother herself expressed a desire to wed her son away- initially the ideal had been to have Helaena marry her elder brother, but for some manner of reason the honor had passed down to Prince Aemond. Rumor tapped it’s mousy foot, but it hadn’t been your business and you’d been far too nervous to poke around and find out.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize the dysfunction of the royal family. To see the way the man you were vying to marry would shrink away from his own mother and father, the way he would curl and wilt under their gazes as if he thought he didn’t belong within their memory.

Needless to say, it followed him into his blossoming- handsome adulthood. The knowledge of the brutality of childbirth, of how it rips a woman apart and kills her if she’s not strong enough. The understanding of what comes after for the rest of ones’ life, and the sheer amount of damage you could do to that life if you weren’t equipped for it.

As far as Aegon had been concerned, he would never be equipped for it. He hadn’t even been worthy of love when he was a child. How could he ever be worthy of giving it?

It’s for this that, following your marriage, you do not bear a child for quite some time. A full year of marriage without sight or whisper of a swollen belly that might carry his babes. This was somewhat devastating for you. Not that you held any grudge for Aegon’s fears, for the way you would find him with glistening eyes and wine-slicked lips, every time his mother would bear down upon him about his duties.

No, it was the gossip and whispering. That you were a failed woman and a terrible wife, that perhaps he thought you so ugly that he couldn’t even bear the few minutes it took to spill his seed in your womb. That you were so dull and lifeless that he could not derive pleasure from you. That your womb was simply a wasteland and that you needed to be replaced. Nevermind that you loved him. Nevermind that he loved you. Happiness was of no importance, here.

Aegon held off for as long as he could, but eventually the frightened boy was chased to his end.

Alicent had had enough of him- had made the ultimatum very clear. Put a babe in your womb, or she would find a new bride for him. Had made sure to list off all the eligible young women of higher houses than your own that would gladly throw you out with the rats to share his bed. It’d been a yelling match, it’d been filled with tears on his end and the bitter sort of resoluteness only a woman who herself had children she hadn’t wanted could possess.

It was the very first time Aegon had ever crawled into your marriage bed and had you while he was drunk.

Things did not get better for some time. Aegon drank, and he drank more. He bedded you with none of the love he truly held for you- because it was not his choice to do so, and he fled to his old vices in the deepest pits of the city, skin crawling as if he’d both been the violated and the violator. He could not imagine how it must have made you feel.

Lonely. Lonelier than you’d ever been. Kept awake with the remnants of his heat between your legs and the absence of his person- whether he was in your bed with you or not. Had he ceased to love you? Is the thought of a child so all consuming that you can no longer hold candle to it? Did he flee from you into the night, find the arms of women who would not have their bodies ruined and spirits tempered by motherhood? Did he disgrace you in such ways?

You didn’t know, and you were too terrified to ask. And so you sat and grew with the misery. He drank more and you ate less, withering beneath a relationship that you could not live without, and yet were being destroyed within.

Until one moon turned to another, and another. And you did not bleed.

The Maesters confirmed it easily enough, the babe that surely grew within you— Aegon had done his duty, and your womb had accommodated, you were not barren. But it did not feel like a joy, to learn of this alone, without him holding your hand. To be the one to go and tell him, to have to inform him of what surely must have been his worst nightmare.

You’d started regal, head held high, shoulders squared. You were informing him of his legacy, you were continuing the reign of the Dragons into another generation.

By the time your slippered feet scuffed the threshhold of your shared chambers, you were a little girl with your arms bound around your middle, hunched and ready to cry.

What a pointless struggle you put yourself through, fingers dancing repetitive tangles around the wash-softened silk embroidery of your bodice. You know how this will fare, perhaps- your mind supplies you desperately even as it’s too late- you could simply not tell him, and let him realize when your body has changed too much for it to be hidden?

He’s slack where he sits at the foot of your shared bed, the fabric of his undershirt fine enough that you can see the flush of skin beneath. He’s always been a touch warmer than his siblings— more like his mother, that rosy hue that clung perpetually to her. Perhaps he was most like her in all regard, for you could not imagine any other Targaryen crying with such open and childlike vulnerability as he could.

You wonder if that is what you will receive now. Tears, or rage, or fear? Will he be offended by your decision to tell him? Will you watch those downturned, lovely features warp into something so far and foreign from you. As he has become over the past moons?

And you try, you truly do. You mean to tell him firmly and prescriptively of your state and what to expect in the coming moons. But when your lips part to break the silence, it is anything but.

“I am sorry-!” It must be a half-beg, it must be a whine, it must be the cries of a wounded animal. Afraid and in pain. The kind that would gnaw itself to bone to survive. You wish to gnaw out your own womb with teeth not suited.

His head jerks then, startled. But you can’t see it, your gaze refuses to witness a thing past the torrent that crowds around your lashes and spews over your eyes. A relentless wave of grief futilely smothered by the way your soft palm pinches angrily around your mouth. Like it was a physical thing to be held, like it hadn’t already begun to drown the air. Humid with pain.

And it is for this— swaddled in the no no no no this is all wrong it’s wrong it’s bad no- that you do not, cannot see Aegon rise. It is for this that you are nearly taken clean off your feet by the sheer force with which his frame collides against yours, held solely by his iron-like grip.

But you don’t question it, the hand at your belly and the hand at your mouth flee to him. Dig in tightly enough to sting through the cloth that separates your nails from his direct skin. You’re clawing at him, scratching violent red ribbons into that peach skin that clings across his shoulders and back. If you’re truly hurting him, if he’s noticing it at all, he makes not a sound, says not a word to it.

“Husband, please..! I am- am afraid, I do not want to be alone. I cannot- I cannot be-” anymore. You couldn’t be alone anymore. Because you had been. You are. He’d abandoned you.

And he knows it, knows it so violently that tears spring to his own eyes. He can’t wrap himself around you as tightly as you dig into him- the cognizant and horribly numb parts of his pysche supply him with an offensively dull you would hurt the babe if you did. That his mind offers this with such simplicity doesn’t prevent the horrible shudder that crests his body. The gooseflesh that forms.

What a horrible, terrible creature he’s been. Typical, but inexcusable.

“Shh, shh…” He tries, weakly. An attempt to balm you while he scrambles to put together the right words to comfort. He knows what he needs to say, he just doesn’t wish to lie. Aegon needs to know that if he tells you this, he will mean it. What he has already done is a heartbreak, enough. But it holds nothing to the weight of a broken promise. “I will not leave you, do you hear me? Never again. The wine will go, the taverns will go, the fights will go. I will be here. I am here.”

It was easy, it was so effortless to pull you to the bed. To lay you curled and fetal beside him as he bound himself to you once more. The door was ajar, enough so that overly nosy servants and guards alike could see the young royals tucked among the pillows, could see the large hand trailing delicate paths over even more fragile features. Soothing and rhythmic motions until a crumpled and upset face turned to something neutral, nearly sleeping.

He would not promise you that he would be perfect, that he would be able to love and cherish the way you deserved. But he would be there. He would be there. You would not be alone. He would never abandon you again.

And he held true to his word. Aegon becomes a constant at your side, perhaps more than you even anticipated. He follows you to learn everything from the wetnurses and Maesters. He follows you to the gardens, he asks you how you feel. He keeps a rigorous, near paranoid grip of your health and mental state.

First you find it confusing, but not unpleasant. You find that just as quickly as you’ve come up with child, Aegon has put aside the things that kept him away from you. Curled into bed and talking to you in rasping, warm tones. Kissing your fingers and nose and lips. And even, when he thought you asleep, trailing a shaking hand over your belly- still too early on to show in any real way.

Then you understand, and it becomes tragic. Aegon knew the stories of Aemma Targaryen, his father’s first wife. At least in rumor if not in direct. And he knew of Alicent’s horrors, as he had been the cause of many of them. He stares at your growing belly over the moons, and he grows paler and paler with the sight of it. Sickened by it. Terrified. Of them, and for you. He fears that you will die, and he fears that he will be the one made to take your life. Even if it’s not him doing it, then giving the order to insistent, heartless Maesters.

This fear increases threefold when the Maesters proclaim that there cannot possibly be a single child within your fertile womb. That you grow too large and too fast. Twins, it could only be.

Aegon sits up that night, with you sound asleep beside him, and he stares into the dark with absolute certainty that he has murdered you. That he marches you to your grave faithfully, now. How it is he is expected to live with it, he doesn’t know.

Nightmares plague him, shakes assail him, his appetite vanishes. You must coax food and drink into him just as Aegon must beg you to take things easily. To let him help you around, to not take so many stairs, to gentle yourself.

He sleeps less, too. And you find yourself kneading puffy cheeks in your palms and caressing reddened eyes as you coo at him and push him to bed. Watching over him like you might- some day soon- your own children.

Eventually however, too soon, much too soon, you head into your labors and Aegon feels the most helpless he ever has. You go to a war that he cannot fight in, and all he can do is sit witness to whether or not you live or- or-

Uselessness should be a thing as natural to Aegon as sleeping. All his life it has been of abundant clarity that his importance was simply in function and name, and not what he- the person- could do. It was not about him, only his blood, his title, the cock between his legs.

It should have been something he’d resigned himself to. But watching you lay there, screaming with tears and sweat trailing down your face- no, he wasn’t so resigned after all. It bit at his bones and made some burning rash crawl it’s pestilent fingers up his clammy back. His hand had long gone numb in your grip, squeezed until nails dug savagely into the places between his bones. It was all he had to offer, his hand, his useless words, the cloth which he gently used to wipe away your sweat.

Even that, they had tried to deny him. Even that. As if he were so Gods-be-damned useless that he couldn’t keep the sweat from your eyes.

“Mm… Aeg..?” Your voice is under a current, being pinched and stretched by your exhastion. You’d been fighting for so long now.

“Yes, ladybug?”

“Could eat an entire pig, right now.”

It makes a bittersweet joy touch Aegon’s cheeks. His smile curves bright and wide, teeth glittering in the afternoon sun, but his lips are trembling and his eyes are glassy. You’re only half there, he’s sure of it, skin glistening and eyes lidded as you stare both at and through him. “I’m sure, love. Been wrestling with a pair of stubborn dragons all day, haven’t you? Once you’re done, I’ll go to the kitchens myself, whip up a frenzy. Everything you could want, okay?

All you need to do is stay here, with me.” Please, please. For the love of the Old Gods and the New. Stay. Don’t let me be what took you.

His hand, the one not clasped relentlessly within yours, brushes at your forehead and at your hair. Tugging strands away with a sort of histrionic worry that maybe they were making you uncomfortable by clinging to your face like that. He didn’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than you were. In fact, how terrible must the sheets feel on your skin? The nightgown they force you to remain in even as your body rips itself apart to create life?

You should be naked, bare on something soft but firm so that it wouldn’t cling to your skin. There is no shame in a man being rendered completely bare so that his war wounds can be tended to, and yet they will not offer you the dignity of the same treatment? Unfair, cruel- you should be allowed to breathe—

His hand practically creaks like settled oak when you start to vice around him again. It’s not fully there yet, simply a pained whimper, but your vision is sharpening by it. You’re forced back to the forefront by cruelty, and Aegon can only give some sort of childish look of sympathy and regret, forehead lowering to touch yours.

“Don’t know how much further I can go, Aegon…” You say, submerging Aegon into a cold that would make even the bitter North curl just a touch deeper into their furs.

“No, no. Don’t you say that, listen to me. Listen… I know it’s beginning to hurt again-” a sentiment unfortunately punctuated by the shriller, louder pained cry that starts to trickle out from your heaving chest. “-But I know you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever seen. So you’re going to do this, do you hear me? You’re going to bear two beautiful, healthy children, and you’re going to be fine, and you’re going to eat an entire fucking pig. You hear me? Hm?”

He doesn’t hear the words murmuring out and around him from the midwives and the Maester. He doesn’t know that the pain is cresting because one of the children is coming- he doesn’t know. All he knows is that you’re looking at him now, and you look pleading. You remind him of a frightened little girl, seeking out the comfort of someone bigger and safer during a storm. Aegon leans over you allows his cheek to find your head and his weight to join yours in sheltering. Instinctual, without particular rhyme or reason, but he’s rewarded for the thought with the touch of your nose against him. Tucking down even as you scream louder than you have at any other moment since this began in the early hours of the morning.

Then-

Oh—?

A cry, so fragile and gentle and quiet breaks the air. It’s so tiny, and all of the skin and hair across his entire body raises at the sound of it. It’s so small, and yet the roaring in Aegon’s ears would tell him that the Keep is falling apart around him. That the sea is drying, that Harrenhal is crumbling, that the Wall is melting.

It meant nothing to him, in all the years he heard familiar cries like that. It meant anxiety, it meant help, where is an elder!? It meant another day that I’m just a failure, it meant looming dread.

A babe’s cry meant nothing to Aegon. His babe’s cry nearly pulls him away from you, nearly has him crumpling broken and limp against the red brick and mortar beneath his feet. He could simply lie there, could curl fetally and stare blankly beneath his bed into the vacuous and yawning nothingness that you lay fighting for your life above. The very sound could eradicate him without effort.

He’s scared, suddenly. Oh, oh Gods. Aegon wants his mother, he wants Alicent to hold him, he wants the reassurances now. He’s afraid, he’s terrified. What if he gets it wrong? What if he drops the babe? What if he forgets, or is clumsy, or reckless, or just plain bad? No one ever taught him how to love innocence.

“My Prince!” A sharp voice calls him out of a complete blank state, he jolts as if slapped, eyes wide and doe-like when he settles upon his caller. A stout, ruddy cheeked woman with kindness seemingly built into the very lines and freckles of her face. “She’s doing well, Prince Aegon. Just one more to go, okay? Think you can convince her?”

There’s something lined in this woman’s ale colored eyes, made more vivid by the light. It’s a hint, it’s the gentlest way he’s ever had someone coax him to get his shit together and focus. A nudge rather than a slap. It’s a sweet boy, remember what’s happening rather than a stupid mutt, a useless grandchild who sees nothing more than his cups.

So he turns back to you, to the way your head lulls slightly under his motions, and the way you seem almost absent from your own flesh. It scares him all over again, not that he needed the reminder- mostly that Aegon is the fly caught between two palms now. The clap so loud to his tiny frame that it should shake the teeth right out of him.

“Ladybug… Sweet love, look at me? Look,” he whispers with love, touches your chin with index and middle fingers to pull you toward him again. “You already did it, see? I told you. You’ve only got one left, should be much quicker now that their older—”

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know if he just had a son or a daughter, and when he swallows around that information his jaw trembles. “—Their older sibling made way, yes? So that’s it, this is it. You’re okay, you’re amazing. Just one more, then I’ll get to bringing an entire roast pig in here for you.”

You manage him a smile for your husband. Looking up at him and recognizing in all the ways that Aegon looks utterly petrified by this. You’re still not entirely sure about survival, the pain remains, and the sudden absence of something that had become so intrinsic to your body. The way it’s as if they’re taking pieces of you with them, stealing at your soul to fuel their own. You find that you don’t mind it, and yet when you blink you see silver and starlight rather than the typical blank darkness of your eyelids.

But he’s scared, and he’s making you all sorts of sweet Aegon promises, and you know you cannot allow this to happen- for him, yes. For the broken man you’d leave behind, for the beautiful boy you always loved to see smile and don’t think ever would again. But also for the children, the children who would have no parents. For the cycle that would repeat, with a bitter man too hurt to look at his own children and love them, because he’d see you there.

You know this, you know him, and you scream with what little ferocity you have left before they even call for you to do so.

Aegon finds himself squeezing his eyes shut, swaying as if he means to rock you- or himself, he’s unsure in that regard. You’re still heaving, still fighting, you’re clawing into his forearm until- much to his mild impress and great worry, droplets of life are pooling out and cascading over the softness of his flesh.

“Little bit longer, Princess!” The same kind faced, warm hearted woman says loudly over your noises of protest and suffering. “An eager one, this! Doesn’t want to be too far behind their sister, eh?”

Sister. The word almost lacks meaning in the fabric of his mind. Sister. He has a daughter, then. A baby girl, a sweet little thing. No wonder her cry was so soft and so devastating. He can feel his spine attempting to break free, he’s sure of it. That is the only way he could possibly comprehend the sensation of the entire length of bone vibrating and trembling violently beneath a thin layer of skin and sinew. Yes, his body is like that of a mayfly, he has helped- however futilely- to bring life and now life he escapes.

“Once more, Princess.” Her voice comes again, and Aegon finds himself looking at her hovering between your legs. He must look a sight himself- embarrassing, considering he has no hand in this fight. But he can feel the pressure around his eyes, the sting of his lips from where he’d bitten them bloody and the tears had found their way into the cuts. He tries to prevent this, to not look like a scared child, but the sympathetic pinch that doesn’t leave as the woman looks between you and him is enough for him to know he’s failed.

“Okay… Okay…” You’re convincing yourself of it, nodding even with the slight resistance from Aegon’s plush cheek. It’s as if you’re being coaxed to do something frightening to you- like when he first introduced you to Sunfyre. Your voice soft, assuring yourself as you pressed on with him. That it would be fine, because he would never let you get hurt, would he?

So he does the same thing to you now that he did then.

“My pretty Princess…” He whispers, rasping and thick. Aegon is your ferryman, you decide in delirium. He’s cut through the fog just as quick, effortless like a lantern in the night. “There’s no need to be afraid… You hear me? I’m right here, I’m right by your side, see?”

His hand threads through yours once again, clammy and hot from nervousness while he rubs soothing patterns.

“Just a little bit more.” Just a couple more steps.

“Then you’re done.” Then you can pet him. Ride with me? See the skies? All that… Targaryen goodness we like to tout so much.

What he hadn’t told you, and you’d already known anyways, was that he was asking permission to love you. It was the first time he’d kissed you, up there. Far away from the city and expectation. That’d been the point. Your first kiss deserved to be Aegon. Not Prince Aegon. Just him.

You screech out a horrible noise, grinding sand and sharp cobbles ripping up and down your throat before it waters down into a sob- Aegon can offer nothing but a sort of hiccupping gasp, an almost panic at the noise that splits the stone and races out of the windows thrown open. Were you dying? Was this going to be it?

A shape now, pulled free quickly and cut away from the mother- from you- just as quick. There’s a certain urgency there, to the way they move. They’re not celebrating or offering to let him see- not yet, no. And it increases his terror twofold, does nothing to soothe the burgeoning feeling that someone is about to die. So he lifts, eyes darting around at people far older and more experienced than himself. He asks no questions because he cannot find his voice, has not even seen the faces of his children yet in the flurry.

The silence is deafening, he can make out a pale foot, a pale arm, the gentle tap tap of someone patting at their flesh.

Finally, a soft, even quieter squeak.

“Congratulations,” you’re both addressed in turn by the rosy woman who turns- a tiny- so fucking tiny- bundle she swaddles in her arms as she approaches. “Two more, lovely Princesses for the Keep.”

His ears are ringing.

The babe- his babe, already shows the wicks of his pale locks, still too fine and short to know whether they’d curl or lay flat like their uncle. The face is a little redder than he’d anticipated, with a tiny swooping nose and a gently parted mouth. Her little eyes are closed, she must be so tired coming into the world like this, shouldn’t she?

He looks down at you then, and feels his heart leap into his throat to see you’re already looking at him. Your eyes are half lidded, but the smile there is nothing short of love. You look at him like it’s been years since you last touched, or like he placed the sun in the sky.

“We’re… we’re parents…” You manage, softly. You must be so tired, making someone else come into the world. Gods, you must be on the brink of sleep. You need sleep. You-

“We are,” he whimpers. You see the tears starting to pour. He looks afraid, yes. But you’d expected that. In fact, you didn’t expect this level of acceptance from him. You’d expected him to be in the corner with his knuckles in his teeth. For him to shy away from the bundle before you two, the other being brought back into the room somewhere beyond your fuzzy vision. “They’re so small, love.”

Aegon’s shape shadows yours, you can feel his heavy arms beneath your sweating frame like the great chains of a drawbridge, pulling you against him. It’s temporary, just so that he can slide you over, cooing something about how sweaty and warm where you were just laying must have been. And it’s true, but the pain and discomfort feels detached and distant, like you’re watching a play rather than living it in the moment.

And then he’s beside you, his body pressed all along yours. And the midwives are moving closer.

“She’ll need ample rest, you hear?” Someone says in the distance, your eyes slide off faces like water down the side of a cliff. But you can feel his humming affirmations, the vibrations make staying aware even harder, heavier. “Hard enough to bring one into the world, but she’s blessed you with two, my Prince.

No moving around without someone to keep watch. No awkward positions. And no getting any ideas with her for at least a turn of the moon. You hear?”

Aegon is painted in shades of crimson, but he nods along like some small child being given their first ‘grown up’ task. He wouldn’t fuck this up. He couldn’t. It would be dangerous if he did.

“She will recover, my Prince. I suggest you enjoy now the fruits of her labor.”

One is much smaller than the other, Aegon realizes. He’s not sure why he’s completely taken aback by it. Children didn’t all start out the same, nor did they end up the same either. He was much bigger than Aemond once upon a time. But this feels different.

His first born, she’s a bit of a fat one if he’s honest. He doesn’t know if a babe can even be such. But she is, a big round face and big round feet and meaty little fists. She’s wriggling and energetic, he realizes. Rowdy, even.

“Hello there,” he says quietly, awkwardly. He’s not sure how to do this part. He’s not sure he understands anything, anymore. His whole life feels as if it’s been taken aside and smashed with hammers. But it’s not so unpleasant anymore. It doesn’t feel like death, or the end. There’s sudden opportunity… Almost an excitement. For nothing else if not to see what these little babes grow into. He hopes they look more like you than him, even with the danger that poses.

“You gave your mother quite some trouble, do you know that?” The babe in his arms makes a creaky little noise, and he nervously shifts her around. How does one… adjust a baby without hurting it? “Yes, you did. I’m sure of it, you’re the one that kept putting your foot in her ribs. Aren’t you? You’d make her fight you all day, you ornery little thing.

But my… Aren’t you pretty.” She is, he’s decided already. She’ll be the prettiest thing in all the Kingdoms, the only competition will be the tiny little bundle settled in your arms.

She’s the opposite, so tiny that it frightens him. Face is redder, and much much quieter. But the Maester looked the babe over and said that she would likely simply be a small child. A quiet one. He was glad of that, though. He could handle the rowdy little beast in his arms. Could take on the challenge, you deserved a quiet little mousy thing. One that he can imagine now with such clarity that a wet smile curves his lips.

Fingers clinging to your skirts, and little eyes peeking around a leg. Quiet embroidery lessons where you teach her all your techniques. Blissful little strolls through the gardens with her.

Meanwhile, Aegon suspects this one will be chewing on his ankles in the night.

You’re watching him, and it’s a sort of relief you can’t describe. It makes you want to sob, to break down into hysterical tears at the sight. He’s smiling down at your daughter, your daughter! Bouncing her ever so gently and laughing in that fond timbre that ceaselessly gives you chills. The babe is still too young to move much, but she gurgles and makes all sorts of little noises that Aegon gasps at and reponds to in kind. You’re sure they’re holding some sort of conversation without you. Deciding what mischief they’ll get into together once she’s older.

Meanwhile the little one sitting in your arms just continues to rest. You brush the very tip of your finger against her nose, feel a foot wiggle. Hm, just like her father, then. You hope she gets his nose, that endearing little swoop that you love to kiss. Maybe his eyes too, the weapons that they would be in the hands of a woman.

“We did it,” you finally say. Your voice has come back to you slightly, exchanging the babes in an awkward fumble of limbs and embarrassed little laughs some time prior. You had remained floating in a bit of shock, head slouched against his shoulder as you waited out the minutes until things went horrifically wrong.

But now, with the sun hissing into the windows as it continues it’s trek across the sky, you realize that this is it. It’s okay. It’s over. You’d survived, and they’d survived. You have daughters now. Daughters and a husband who so clearly loves them with all his being.

Aegon had giggled like a little boy until his eyes and nose scrunched up while he held the larger of your daughters, had rocked her back and forth and whispered all sort of nonsense into her ear almost assuredly more for your own benefit than that of the child. Anything to make you giggle, to hear you have joy after it all.

But the moment your little star settled into his arms? Oh, he’d melted. You’d watched the way the joy, but also the pain, and the fear, and the anxiety melted off of him. He looked in awe. He’d not even been able to glance away from his littlest as he’d told you with such reverence she’s so small.

“You did,” he eventually says. His voice is nearly a whisper. They’re sleeping now, soundly and peacefully like little pieces of divine will cast upon the soil. “Look at them. Look what you did, ladybug… They’re perfect. You’ve created perfection.”

It’s hard not to giggle at his antics. “Aegon, my love… They’re yours too, you had just as much a hand—”

“But I didn’t, not really.” He shakes his head with conviction as he says it. Looking only briefly apologetic for running right over you with his words. “I- I bedded you, in the coldest way I could have. And I ran from you. And I left you alone while your body willed itself to create… this. Them. Our beautiful little Princesses. I only came back because you had to beg me. Your own husband, to stay.

No I- …I truly did nothing, here. I failed you, I think I did even when I promised to never leave you again. But the truth remains the same. I got to run away, you didn’t. You weren’t given a choice to run. This is yours. They are perfect because of you.”

You look away when the tears begin to drip off your chin, willing them not to dot your child and wake her. You’re not sure you’re ready for that stage. You want to see them sleep for just a touch longer.

“It was… hard… Aegon…” You concede this part to him, because it does no good to lie about the lonely nights of weeping and fear. “But I want you to know something…

It all went away the moment I saw you smile at them.”

It’s true, it did. You hold not a single reservation for the man beside you. You’ve always known him to have the heart and the will to love the way a good father should, you just never knew if he would give himself the chance.

He will, you think. You can already picture with heartfelt clarity what your near future will look like. The image of a head of white hair chasing a squealing little figure across the gardens. You can see yourself beneath the veranda, surrounded by vines and enjoying some sort of confection while you watch your whole world before you. You can hear the screeching laughter of a daughter tossed in the air, caught faithfully in strong arms. Laughter, so much laughter.

“I love them,” he says softly. Disbelieving of himself. “I love you.”

The hand not preoccupied with a sleeping bundle finds Aegon’s face, heart squeezing tenderly at the way his face drops into your palm so readily.

“My husband, father of my children…” Your finger traces the swoop of his nose, and you giggle when you see one of his feet squirm.

“I love you, in spite of nothing and with all my heart.”

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prince-liest · 27 days

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The specific phrasing of “hurt very pretty” is. I knew before this series I was more into the soft sadism/dom thing but it’s soooo rare to find someone who does the exact flavor I’m into and I think that phrase in my head sooooo often

Ahaha, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I've always really liked, as you describe it, soft sadism, where it's about the intimacy, the connection, and the sort of delightfully recursive loop you get when the suffering is enjoyed, and the enjoyment of the suffering also contributes to the suffering, whether it be via enthusiasm or humiliation. Funnily enough, despite the kind of stuff that I write, S&M that feels genuinely callous and miserable is fully capable of squicking me if it hits just wrong. I really like writing sadism that feels tender, even when it's violent.

Five more asks under the cut! If you sent something about 666 in the past 24-ish hours, it's probably there!

Your newest channel 666 fic had me so mixed on how to feel "Oh ok they're drunk and Al's on his lap... that wasn't in the tags oh no vox isn't advancing... nevermind he's electrocuting Al, i get it, a little something to get the blood pumping oh no wait he's actually electrocuting him oh good lord he's screaming in pain"

Hahaha, god, tagging this chapter was really a fucking nightmare - if there's anything you think I missed that's important to include, PLEASE let me know, because I tried to cover my bases but I really had to give up after a bit. It's just One Of Those Chapters and the first time I've used the Graphic Violence archive warning for something that was just fully consensual sexy times, haha. I hope it was at least enjoyable overall! Alastor certainly had a good time.

I've binged your 666 series and it irreversibly changed my brain chemistry It's more canon than everything that happened in the show itself to me - @grimfeywizard

Ahhhh, thank you so much! >:D I definitely tried to mimic the style of canon for the characters, especially for the first installments before they kinda went their own way character development wise, haha. I'm glad you like it!! <3

I was at a convention all weekend and when you updated BOTH times I snuck out of my group and into a corner to read them I am completely obsessed with this series 🙏🙏🙏 -@urlocal-cryptid7

Omg, glad to add the cherry on top of your con experience, hahaha. Thank you so much!!

hey there, just wanted to say i’m absolutely enraptured with the 666 series! it’s absolutely amazing and one of my favorite fics out there right now. i’m always looking forward to it and checking for updates, great work!!!!

Ahhhh, thank you for the kind words!! I'm really enjoying writing it in all of its weirdnesses, so it's always so nice to hear that people are enjoying the odd directions it goes!

Another fun radiostatic song: The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer - @butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries

This is 100% what I had playing in the car on repeat when I wrote one of the previous installments, hahaha. It's a fantastic radiostatic song, especially with the level of sadomasochism I write into 666.

(Anon who was awaiting the drunk Alastor shenanigans here) Me, pre-installment 8 of 666: Oh My God, it’s happening. Everybody STAY CALM- Me, post-installment 8 of 666: *ugly sobbing* it was everything i could ever hope for, your honor. The Prince(TM) is good and merciful. So yeah, expectations met as always 👍

Omg, ehehehe - drunk Alastor was honestly SO fun to write, because it's just... taking away a lot of his worries and inhibitions, and the behaviors that normally accompany them. I took what Mimzy said about him being a kitten when he's had a few drinks and lets loose and ran with it, and it turned out very enjoyable. I'm glad you also had a good time reading, hahaha!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #nsft #grimfeywizard #urlocal-cryptid7 #butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries #t

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takami-takami · 5 months

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thinking about post-war!Keigo where everything remains the same. Except his wings don't grow back. Everything repairs itself, everything changes back gradually to what it was before but his wings remain the same. Don't remain, rather. It's funny how slow he is, still not adjusted to all of this, given the very purpose of his existence lies in his ability to be fast. Doesn't matter that the reason for his speed is non-existent now. He's a hero, right? Heroes don't cry.

Heroes don't sob over their now-gone cause of existence.

Heroes don't just randomly forget they lost their wings one night, too busy staring at their lover's back with lost, blank eyes. Unaware of his woefully blank amber eyes, you lay beside him in his bed, which feels uncomfortably large now. Another form of failure that hurt his eyes if he didn't already have enough tears streaming down his ugly, scarred face silently, every time he had to begrudgingly look at himself in the mirror. Your attempts and pleas at spooning him tonight were hushed by his silent gaze. Please let me be useful, they pleaded. You gave up. Now gathered in his arms, both of you felt safe.

So safe that he forgot his empty back for a second. As instinct would have it, his back muscles flexed to move his wings to wrap around you. Closed amber eyes and a fuzzy head full of comfort hampered his worries and woes. His mind was too far gone in your soft to register the fact that he had been trying to do this for quite some time now. Unsuccessful attempts forced him to come back to reality. Body writhing, his eyes opened suddenly, wide and full of shock. His hands froze. Keigo slowly comprehended his actions. His eyes felt wet. Awoken by his movements, your body shifted in a frenzy as you turned to face him, eyes open but vision foggy from residual sleep. Out of pure instinct, you cupped his tear-stricken face as you tried hard to understand what the fuck was going on, the best your foggy mind could. His posture and expression worsened.

"Kei', honey, you okay? Kei', talk to me. Wh-" He fell to your chest hard. And bawled like a fucking child. Fists gripped the fabric of your shirt as he sobbed and cried, for god knows how long. You held him with equal force and gently rocked his body, despite a slight understanding of his sudden breakdown. To an extent, you were aware it was because of his wings, with the way he clutched your backside and felt it like it was his own. Whispering soft coos and sweet nothings into his hair continued for a while and near screaming and sobbing turned into silent cries. Eventually, he calmed down. Sensing his discomfort and heavy breathing, you combed your hands gently through his blond locks.

"I love you Kei', you know that right?" No response. Just faint nodding. You suppose that would do for now. uhh hey there V! Call me Rakuyou. This is my first time writing something like this. I've always admired people like you who can express their feelings in words so seamlessly and perfectly. I find Hawks' character quite admirable and well-written, and I most definitely don't gush over the boy every fucking moment. And as for this piece, I'd love to know some tips to write him well and some writing tips that you may wanna share. This might be a Wattpad-level fic at best, but I gave my best. Lemme know your thoughts on this one. I love Keigo and your work!

-Love, Rakuyou. (Crawls into a black hole and dies.)

I ... I do not have words for this. This knocked on my heart like it was a door and said "actually nevermind I'm coming in anyway" and smashed it to pieces on the way in.

#putting the rest of this in the tags to let your drabble speak for itself #but this is so good it feels so visceral. need to comfort this man. jesus.#WHAT DO YOU MEAN WATTPAD AT BEST IM SHAKING YOU !!!!!#also omg thank u for the kind words at the end that means sooooo much to me #my tip for you is never stop cooking cuz im eating this #💌 asks #💞

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catindabag · 3 months

Text

TBOSAS on Crack short take (74)

*How to avoid getting bitten by a rainbow snakey snake*

Prof.Demigloss: Mr. Anderson, please tell me one interesting fact about District 9.

Androcles: Ok! District 9 is known for its illegal rice cults!😀

Prof.Demigloss: Correct! Another point for Mr. Anderson.

Androcles: Yey!

Lysistrata: That’s not fair. That’s too easy, Professor.

Prof.Demigloss: Fine. I’m deducting 10 points from everyone but me.☺️

Lysistrata: Sir!

Livia: That doesn’t make sense.

Festus: 10 points?! But I only accumulated 8 points this year!

Gaius: I only have 4.

Apollo: I have 2.😀

Prof.Demigloss: Yey! A negative!

Lysistrata: Professor, you can’t do that! That’s not fair!

Prof.Demigloss: Do what?

Lysistrata: Deduct our points!

Prof.Demigloss: I can do whatever I want. I’m a dinosaur.😊

Lysistrata: I’m telling mother!

Prof.Demigloss: Yey! Demerits for everyone!

Domitia: Lizzie!

Livia: Thanks a lot, Vickers.

Lysistrata: I did nothing wrong!

Clemensia: I’m telling the Dean!

Diana: Really?

Clemensia: No. I’m telling Lepidus Malmsey and Capitol News.

Felix: Is that even allowed?

Prof.Demigloss: I’m going back to sleep now. Wake me up before my next break.

Coryo: Professor, please! I need my points back! I need to land on top!

Prof.Demigloss: Good for you, Crassus Snow. Goodnight.

Coryo: Professor!

Sejanus: I can always land on top of you, my love!😍

Coryo: Not now, Babe!

Sejanus: Kiss!😘

Prof.Demigloss: Mr. Plinth!

Sejanus: Yes?

Prof.Demigloss: If you and your sugar baby want to “make love” in front of the class-

Coryo: I’m his fiancé!

Prof.Demigloss: Sugar baby.

Sejanus: What should I do? Should I get a camera? 5 cameras?

Lysistrata: I have a camera!

Domitia: Take mine too!

Prof.Demigloss: Then please return my beloved Mr. Fluffy Feet-

Sejanus: I can’t.

Prof.Demigloss: Why not?! I need him! He’s my spy cam teddy bear!

Sejanus: Not anymore.

Prof.Demigloss: Return my expensive teddy bear! He belongs to me!

Androcles: No! Mr. Fluffy Feet belongs to me now! I’m his new best friend and partner in crime!

Prof.Demigloss: I bought him with my own paycheck, you thief!

Androcles: I found him, I keep him!

Prof.Demigloss: How could you?! You stole my poor teddy bear from me!😭

Sejanus: But Mr. Fluffy Feet is currently hiding in Dr. Gaul’s lab.

Prof.Demigloss: That’s why you have to return him to me. I’m scared.😞

Sejanus: Can’t. Sorry.

Prof.Demigloss: You’re not sorry.

Androcles: Sorry not sorry.

Prof.Demigloss: Is this because I illegally sold all of your pretty feet pics without the government’s permission?

Felix: You sold our feet pics?!

Prof.Demigloss: Online.😊

Gaius: You have my feet pics?!

Prof.Demigloss: Professor Sickle gave them to me for free.😊

Vipsania: My auntie gave what?!

Prof.Demigloss: She collects them. It’s her new secret hobby.

Livia: Ew. Were they ugly?

Prof.Demigloss: Half of them were either pretty or blurry.

Livia: Was mine the prettiest?

Prof.Demigloss: No. Snow’s, Creed’s, Ring’s, and Ravinstill’s were the prettiest of the bunch.

Livia: Of course they were.🙄

Diana: Which Ring?

Prof.Demigloss: Apollo Ring.

Diana: Figures.😔

Apollo: Yey! I’m pretty!

Hilarius: How about mine?😀

Prof.Demigloss: Ugly AF.

Vipsania: I don’t want to know!

Hilarius: How much?

Prof.Demigloss: How much what?

Hilarius: How much money did you make?

Prof.Demigloss: A million bucks.

Hilarius: One million bucks?!

Prof.Demigloss: I even auctioned off some of them last week.

Felix: You can legally auction off our feet pics without President Gran Gran’s permission?!

Prof.Demigloss: My dearest Felix, your granduncle was even one of my top buyers.

Felix: Nevermind. I don’t want to know.

Prof.Demigloss: I even auctioned off some of your old red skirts last month. It was fun.

Apollo: Is that even allowed?

Diana: I bought the skirts.

Lysistrata: Diana, how could you?!

Diana: I’m a skirt collector.

Lysistrata: Give them back!

Diana: No.

Festus: I want my shares!

Gaius: Mine too!

Coryo: But who the heck bought our pretty feet pics online?!

Prof.Demigloss: Mr. Heavensbee Sr.

Coryo: Of course he did.😑

Peacekeeper Joe: *runs in and salutes* Professor!

Prof.Demigloss: Hello, Officer Jovilius! How are you? How’s life?

Peacekeeper Joe: Stressed and underpaid as always, Professor.

Prof.Demigloss: Good for you.☺️

Peacekeeper Joe: Dr. Gaul wants to see Mr. Snow and Ms. Dovecote in her “totally legal” laboratory right now.

Prof.Demigloss: What for?

Peacekeeper Joe: I don’t know.

Festus: Is she going to buy our feet pics too?

Felix: I hope not.

Peacekeeper Joe: Are they still available?

Everyone: No.

Peacekeeper Joe: I’m sad now.

Felix: Thank Panem.

Peacekeeper Joe: Well, I still need Mr. Snow and Ms. Dovecote to come with me.

Sejanus: Can I come too? My beloved darling Snow Bae needs me.🥰

Peacekeeper Joe: No.

Coryo: I need my rich sugar daddy. I’m scared.

Festus: Me too!

Felix: And me!

Lysistrata: Let me join the fun!

Peacekeeper Joe: You can’t.

Clemensia: Officer, they’re my idiots. Please let them join us.

Peacekeeper Joe: I said no.

Coryo: Hilarius will give you his pretty feet pics for free.

Hilarius: I will?

Coryo: Yes, you will.

Peacekeeper Joe: Fine! All of you may join us!

Everyone: Yey!

Peacekeeper Joe: But be careful, be quiet, and behave!

Gaius: No promises.

Prof.Demigloss: Can I-

Peacekeeper Joe: No. You’re old. Dr. Gaul hates old people.

Prof.Demigloss: But she’s old too!

Peacekeeper Joe: And you’re a crusty dinosaur who needs to retire.

Prof.Demigloss: Crispus is sad now.

Apollo: Bye, Professor! See you later!☺️

Prof.Demigloss: Goodbye, children. Bring me 3 blueberry waffles and a cup of expensive coffee on your way back.

Gaius: Sure! Livia will buy you 10!

Livia: Ew. No.

*2 hours later, inside Dr. Gaul’s creepy “totally legal” laboratory*

Apollo: Yo, guys, look at that!

Coryo: Look at what?

Apollo: That! *points at a random glass jar* It has an ugly lobster monster mutt inside!

Festus: Cool! Let’s touch it!

Apollo: Maybe it can even slow dance and sing a song for us!😀

Felix: I hope not.

Livia: I’m telling mother.

Androcles: I’m going to steal that lobster monster later.☺️

Felix: Good for you.

Diana: Guys, look at that! It’s a big ass glass with a lot of wiggly candy worms inside!

Lysistrata: Those things aren’t wiggly candy worms!

Diana: Yes, they are.

Lysistrata: Those are baby snakes!

Coryo: Rainbow snakes.

Livia: Obviously.🙄

Festus: Let’s talk to them!

Androcles: Let’s steal one!

Felix: Where’s Dr. Gaul?

Peacekeeper Joe: She’s still in her private break room sipping hot tea.

Festus: Good! Let’s feed those rainbow snakey snakes before that crazy doctor kicks us out!

Coryo: With what?

Festus: What what?

Coryo: What are we going to feed them? Our limbs?

Sejanus: *pulls a body bag out of nowhere* I have a large sack of gumdrops and bread crumbs with me.

Coryo: Ok. Let’s feed them- Scratch that. Let’s feed me first.

Festus: And me! I’m hungry.

Coryo: Babe, feed me.

Sejanus: Anything for you, my love!

Gaius: *takes out his lunchbox* But can I feed them these tiny cheese cubes?

Festus: Do snakes even like cheese?

Gaius: Everyone likes cheese.

Coryo: Where did you get those cheese cubes anyway? Did my crazy cousin and her annoying cheese fairies gave them to you?

Gaius: No. A drunk Professor Click gave them to me for free!

Coryo: Well, that’s unfortunate.

Gaius: Why?

Coryo: I’m pretty sure that “Miss Alcoholic Click” laced those cheese cubes of yours with either posca, whiskey, or both.

Festus: At least it’s not cyanide.

Sejanus: Or rat poison.😀

Gaius: But can a baby snake even become a proud alcoholic like Professor Click?

Coryo: I don’t know.

Festus: Let’s test it out!

Gaius: Yeah! Alcoholic baby snakes! Let’s go! *throws the cheese cubes inside the snakes’ enclosure*

Hilarius: I have a question!

Clemensia: No.

Hilarius: Do rainbow snakes like to eat apple tarts or banana bread?

Lysistrata: I have an apple tart!

Diana: Can they eat oranges?

Apollo: How about grapes?

Hilarius: I’ll throw a banana just to be sure.

Clemensia: Sure of what?

Hilarius: I don’t know. I just want to throw a banana.

Coryo: Just throw everything in.

Diana: Ok. Whatever you say, Snowy!

Everyone: *throws every snack available inside the glass cage*

Gaius: Look! They’re all eating my tiny cheese cubes!

Hilarius: And my banana.

Clemensia: Shouldn’t we be worried about our own safety?

Gaius: What safety? We’re just feeding Dr. Gaul’s baby snakes.

Coryo: Clemmie, do you want to feed the rainbow snakes too?

Clemensia: No.

Coryo: You can feed them a gumdrop.

Clemensia: Fine. One gumdrop and we’re done. *throws a red gumdrop inside the glass cage* Happy?

Coryo: Look at that, Clemmie! They ate your red gumdrop.

Clemensia: Really?

Coryo: They’re now happy!

Sejanus: Have another one, Clem.

Clemensia: Give me the whole sack.

Sejanus: Yey!

Androcles: I’m still stealing one.

Peacekeeper Joe: Well, you do you. Goodbye. I’m going outside. Peace!

Lysistrata: Bye, Officer Jovilius!

Peacekeeper Joe: Just call me Joe.

Coryo: Bye, Joe.

Peacekeeper Joe: Bye, losers.

Dr.Gaul: *walks in* Ah! Mr. Snow! Ms. Dovecote- Why the f*ck are you all here?!

Gaius: We’re feeding your rainbow snakey snakes for free!

Apollo: You’re welcome.☺️

Dr.Gaul: Get away from my babies!

Felix: That’s rude. We’re still feeding and they’re still eating.

Dr.Gaul: Stop feeding my snakes!

Festus: Why? They’re happy!

Dr.Gaul: You’re ruining my project!

Hilarius: They ate my banana.

Dr.Gaul: F*ck your banana!

Androcles: Guys! *grabs a snake* I can hold and hug them now!

Dr.Gaul: Don’t touch-

Diana: Andie, get another one! I wanna hold a baby snake too!

Apollo: Me too!

Androcles: Here you go. *gives Diana a snake* A yellow and blue baby snakey just for you.

Diana: Yey! He’s mine now!

Apollo: Let’s name him Scamander!

Diana: Our pretty baby Scamander!

Felix: Can I have one too?🥺

Androcles: Sure! Here’s a pretty pink one just for you, Class Pres! *gives a cute snake to Felix*

Felix: Thanks. I’ll name this one ✨Little Saturninus✨.

Coryo: That’s a cool name.

Sejanus: Let’s name our firstborn son ✨Saturninus✨, Coryo!

Coryo: Sure. I approve.

Sejanus: And let’s name our firstborn daughter ✨Cassiopeia✨!

Coryo: I like Cassandra better.

Sejanus: Cassiopeia’s better.

Lysistrata: Cassandra Cassiopeia Lysistrata Plinth!😀

Sejanus: No. Your name is too long and too complicated, Lizzie. Sorry.

Lysistrata: Really?

Coryo: It’s also connected to an old but infamous viral disease.

Lysistrata: Which one?

Coryo: Rabies.

Lysistrata: I knew it.😔

Sejanus: Cassiopeia Plinth it is!

Coryo: Babe, my love, you can name our firstborn son ✨Saturninus Xanthos Plinth✨. How about that?

Sejanus: Saturninus Sejanus Xanthos Plinth?!🥹

Coryo: Sure. Whatever you want.

Sejanus: Whatever I want?😍

Coryo: As long as I name our firstborn daughter ✨Cassandra Coriolana Xanthe Plinth✨.

Sejanus: Deal!

Dr.Gaul: What the actual f*ck.

Androcles: Yo, I got my rainbow snake! Let’s go! *runs away*

Dr.Gaul: F*ck this. I’m going home.

34 notes · View notes