#BELIEVE me I feel for them more than anything their situations fucking suck

[benetnvsch]

I like how on twt it's easy to tell everything that a user stands for/posts just from a glance at their bio but rlly dislike how it's also caused me to add a hyper specific dni section to mine cuz im tired of Certain Groups retweeting my shit - leave me alone pls

#vent #AND by the that I mean the 13 year olds running anti-recovrey pages :/ #BELIEVE me I feel for them more than anything their situations fucking suck #but I do NOT want my work on any of their pages jfc- #please get professional help instead of publicly venting on twitter my goodness #ive been in their place before as an angry lonely child and being surrounded by others like me encouraging that behavior #seems like the worst place to be in and I truly feel for them but oh my g-d I do not have the spoons for this- #they'll post the worst more triggering uncensored things that ill start feeling sick even going to their pages to block them

[yanderestarangel]

Hi I’d like to request something! Can you please write headcanons on how the Lin quei brothers would react to a virgin reader?

~Anon who is also a virgin

୨♡୧ LIN KUEI BROTHERS WOULD REACT TO A VIRGIN READER

TW: fingering, afab anatomy, virgin reader, smut, nsfw, sub!reader, no pronouns used except 'you'.

୨♡୧ KUAI LIANG:

He would be quite surprised, but "proud" (if we can put it like that), he would have a smug smile on his lips while hearing that you were a virgin and had never done it with anyone, he would even be a little perverted and asked if you fingered yourself while you two were dating, soon receiving a pillow in the face and laughing at the situation. "-My love, you know you don't need to be afraid, I will take care of you, I love you... I promise." -Kuai Liang spoke while kissing your neck, then sinking your onto the bed.

୨♡୧ TOMAS VRBADA:

Scared. Pretty scared. But possessive. Believe me, Tomas is also a virgin - not for lack of option or opportunity but by choice, the big boy didn't want to do with just anyone choosing to wait for you - and it would be the first time for both of you, the conversation between the two of you would be summed up in Tomas moving his hands nervously and trying to focus on anywhere other than you, soon jumping in surprise when he feels you touch his thigh making them both laugh, breaking the mood between the two. He would nervously admit that he never did either and would find himself thinking about you and revealing his deepest fantasies face to face with you, soon feeling his dick twitch in his pants and throwing you on the bed - really prepare yourself, this man will get very possessive with you -

୨♡୧ BI HAN:

He would be more serious, for him it doesn't really matter if you're a virgin or not, but oh dear... If you are, he won't let it show, but he's almost ready to jump on top of you and let his most primitive desires take over. The heat that rises through Bi Han's body is inexplicable and inevitable, he will hear everything even though he controls himself not to do anything too rough or rude, he will ask if you really want to fuck him and if the answer really is "yes" Bi Han already throws you brutally on the bed and then takes off your belt, it was going to be a long night.

♡ NSFW ♡

୨♡୧ KUAI LIANG:

He really works on your pussy, Kuai strives to make your first time memorable and romantic, with calm music in the background, and some wine and candles around the dark room, a pure silk sheet was spread across the bed. In the act Kuai Liang would suck your pussy and he would cum in the process even without touching his dick and right after sex he would carry you to the bathroom and bathe you and hold you until you fell asleep in his arms, smiling satisfied.

୨♡୧ TOMAS VRBADA:

He moans like a whore, Tomas would be much more hasty the first time, even being a little rough at times because in addition to his orgasm he wants to free himself too. The perfect scenario for him would be on a Friday afternoon with both of you off at his house and a sunset in the background, with you doing 69 with him and him giving himself completely to your mouth on his cock while he loses focus and stops sucking yours pussy and fucking your mouth with her hips, then apologizing between sly moans and going back to sucking your entrance. The sex would be rougher as soon as you got used to his size having the right to pull your hair while he spanks your ass, moaning and whimpering as he buries himself entirely in your pussy. He would take care of you, but he would be exhausted and the two of you would just pass out, cuddled together in bed, even though you were still dirty and smelled of sex.

୨♡୧ BI HAN:

Have you seen the size of that man? Exactly. Down there it's the same size. Bi Han would work your pussy with his fingers, inserting his ring finger and then one more, leaving you a little more relaxed to fuck with his dick, he would also want you to suck him so much to help with the lubrication so much to kill his desire to hit him with his dick in your face while he sees you desperate for more and more. The perfect scenario would be on a rainy day when the two of you are in bed together, for your first time he would go very slow not wanting to hurt you (too much) but if you can handle it one more time be prepared to not walk for two weeks straight. Bi Han is more audible he would only make grunts in your ear, he wants to hear you when he thrusts his dick hard into you - And I was definitely going to cum inside you and then put two fingers in so as not to let the cum leak out -

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #mortal kombat #tw smut #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang headcanons #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #bi han headcanons #bi han x reader #bi han mk #mortal kombat headcanons #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada mortal kombat #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke mk #smoke tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #mk 1 #kuai liang x you #smoke tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x afab reader #bi han x afab reader #bi han sub zero

[lovebugism]

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended. 

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.  

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day. 

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.) 

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of. 

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes. 

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade. 

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour. 

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high. 

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part. 

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that. 

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater. 

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start. 

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer. 

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right? 

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I��ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his. 

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night. 

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth. 

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust. 

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

[tasiawrites]

Aot men x black reader who is feeling a bit insecure

Cw: smut, mirror sex, recorded sex and whatever else y'all finna tell me

Connie

He found out when you were adding stuff to your cart but never asked for his card to buy them, when he asked you why you just off-handedly mentioned that you weren't pretty enough to pull it off. Incorrect.

Now you were sat on Connie's lap. His rough fingers played with your clit, while his dick rubbed against your sweet spot. “Look at the phone mama,” he whispered in your ear. You whined as you watched yourself cum on his dick. You watched as your tits bounced with each thrust. You tried to look away as the camera panned up to your face showing you what you looked like as you came all over Connie's dick. “Look mamas, look how pretty you are,” Connie said kissing your cheek as your pussy fluttered around him in both embarrassment and pure arousal. “Now put the next one on, we're not done.”

Eren

You had been at a party and overheard some people talking. Saying shit like Eren could do better than you. It hurt a little bit as you looked over to where a model-like girl was talking to him. You believed it for a second.

That didn't last long. Once you go home Eren realized something was wrong now he was fucking you an inch from insanity. “Ren I'm sorry slow down,” you whimpered pushing your hand against his hips in a futile effort to get him to stop, or slow down. It wasn't working, he kept fucking you like a man on a mission. He slapped your hand away. “Nah, this is what you get for listening to bitches shit talk,” he said angrily as he plowed through your pussy making your juices fly everywhere. “Gonna come ren… please,” you begged. He just leaned down and captured your lips in a sensual kiss as you came all over him. He slowed down with his forehead against yours. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. “you know I love you right?” You nodded in affirmation. Eren smiled, “Good, now turn around and catch this nut, ion wanna hear any of that shit again.” He said slapping your ass as an indication for you to put your face down and ass up.

Armin

You had taken too long to come and watch a movie with him. He found you standing in front of the mirror looking at yourself with a look in your eye he didn't like. At all.

Your thighs quivered as Armin stopped again. “C’mon princess, keep going or I'll stop again,” he whispered against your pussy. His blue eyes looking into your brown ones. You looked away in embarrassment as the sight of his face covered in a mess you made in this situation was a bit much. “I- I'm pretty,” your voice cracked into a moan as you felt him dive back in eating you out slow and sweet. “I'm smart,” you said again trying not to cover your face in embarrassment. Armin making you affirm yourself was embarrassing enough, but if you stopped or said anything he didn't think was good enough he would stop. “I'm p-perfect,” your thighs clenched around his head as he sucked on your clit gently. “Min, m gonna come,” you begged trying to both push him away and pull him closer. He just hummed as he looked up at you through your legs. You came with a loud moan. He pulled away and brought his face close to yours. “you're sexy,” he said, pressing a kiss on your lips. “Think you have one more for me princess?” He asked rubbing his tip against your folds.

Onyakapon

His girl? Insecure? No, not possible. 

“Onya, please,” you begged, closing your eyes. “none of that,” he growled in your ear. “You're gonna be a good girl and watch me fuck my pussy and watch yourself cum on your dick,” he pressed a kiss on your temple. “Fuck you talkin' bout you ain't fine,” he kissed his teeth in annoyance as he held your face forcing you to watch yourself bounce on his dick. You watched as your pussy creamed all over him messily. Your eyes followed it down his balls and watched it drip to the floor. He tapped your face making your eyes flutter back upward. You met your eyes in the mirror. You took in how utterly fucked you looked. There was drool slipping down the side of your face, your eyes were lidded and teary, even your hair was fucked up. You closed your eyes and tried to hide your face in Onyakapon's neck. That wasn't sliding and your eyes shot wide open as he lay a slap on your clit. “Eyes in the mirror baby, ion wanna see you do that again,” he tsked fucking you harder. “Onya, gonna cum,” you cried, your nails digging into his arm as he began to play with your clit while somehow bouncing you harder on his dick. Your thighs shook as you came, squirting all over the mirror. “That's it cum for me pretty girl,” he kissed your cheek, licking off the tears that escaped your eyes.

#aot x black reader #onyakapon x black reader #armin x black reader #eren x black reader #connie x black reader #black reader smut #aot smut

[xxshadowbabexx]

poly 141 x reader where she j has a lowkey shitty af boyfriend but he’s not abusive so she sucks it up IDK WHAT ELSE

Melancholia

Warnings: language, hurt/comfort, unhealthy relationships

You knew your boyfriend was a dick. That much was apparent. And the thing was, you knew why, too. 

You were the only woman in the 141, and your four male squad members were in a polyamorous relationship with each other. He didn’t believe you were just their friend when they all were in love, but you were. 

He accused you of cheating more times than you could count, but you loved him. You really loved him. 

Tonight he was coming to your squads weekly hang at one of the on-base pubs. 

You were sandwiched between Gaz and Soap when your boyfriend arrived, and he looked downright pissed at the situation. 

“You’re really going to let them feel up on you like that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You just wanted one good, fun night with him and your boys but no. He had to be bitter and jealous. Again. But you wanted to enjoy the night, so you spoke up to appease him. 

“Johnny, would you mind sitting by Price and Si?”

He looked at you with a glimmer of trouble in his eyes. “Sure thing bonnie,”

Your boyfriend glared daggers into Soaps back as he moved, and when your boyfriend sat next to you, he scooped you into his side possessively. 

“So,” he drew out, “Which one of you boys got the first round?” He asked, eyes running over your squad. 

After a minute, Soap offered and walked to the bar. He came back a minute later, drinks in hand. Apologizing profusely for “accidentally,” forgetting your boyfriend’s drink. 

Maybe your boyfriend was an asshole to them, but they were just as bad. 

If the night out was awkward, well it wasn’t anything compared to the drive back to your boyfriend’s place. 

He was clearly angry and jealous, and you were sure you would get a harsh talking to once you got home. 

Home. Funny, shouldn’t you enjoy your time there? Yet you found yourself dreading your arrival. 

Maybe that’s because this was no longer your home. Home instead taking shape of a military base with an emo brit, a loudmouth scot, the most charismatic man you’ve ever met, and a boss your father’s age. 

Not that your boyfriend had to know it, of course. 

The car pulled up to the drive and he got out, not bothering to wait for you as he went inside. You frowned. This was going to be fun. 

You walked to the front door only to find it locked. You groaned and rubbed your hands against your temple. What was he thinking? 

“C’mon baby, let me in,” you pleaded as you banged on the door, only to be met with silence. You sighed as you sat down on the porch, leaning back against the door. 

“Just let me in soon, okay?” you almost begged. You knew he didn’t like your squad and knew they didn’t like him, but dammit you thought things were okay! 

Just then, the door opened and you fell backwards. Finally, you thought to yourself, ready to get inside and warm up from the chilly February air. Only, that didn’t seem possible. 

Your boyfriend was standing in the doorway with a suitcase of your things, looking at you with dead eyes. He set the suitcase down next to you, and whispered a goodbye before shutting the door on you again. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. He couldn’t mean this, could he? But he did. Your eyes started to water as you stood staring at the door. 

You hadn’t processed anything, you didn’t have time to. Because where would you go now? You were several miles away from base, and you had left your car there. Fuck. 

With shaking hand you pulled your phone out of your pocket, dialing Gaz’s number. 

He picked up on the first ring. Your boyfr- ex never did that. 

“Hey, whats up?” he asked, a little confused on why you would be calling him right now, but he wasn’t yet worried. 

“I uh… was wondering if you could pick me up?” 

“Sure thing. You at his house?” he asked. 

“Y-yeah,”

“Alright, me an the guys will be there in a second. Want me to stay on the line?” 

“Yes please,” you whispered meekly into the phone. Sad and ashamed of the events that took place over the last few minutes. 

True to his word, Gaz was there within record time, and you knew he must’ve sped. 

Ghost got out of the back seat and scooped your sad self up in his warm arms, rubbing your back comfortingly. He grabbed your suitcase in his other hand and carried you to the car. You sat smushed between Ghost and Johnny, and snuggled deep into Ghost’s side. 

“What’s wrong, love? What’d he do this time?” Price questioned, feeling overly protective of you. He’d never admit it, but he hated seeing anyone on his team in even remote distress. 

“I… I think he broke up with me,” you whispered, hating the words leaving your tongue. Somehow speaking them made them all too real. 

“Fucking bastard,” Johnny grumbled. “He don’t know what he’s missing out on, hen. Trust me, ya can do so much better,” he finished and both Ghost and Gaz hummed in agreement. 

“I know I just.. it hurts,”

Ghost pulled you tighter to him, enveloping you in his scent and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“It’s alright lovie, we’ll be here for you,”

Taglist

@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @reap3erslov3 @ladyxtiger

#cod #call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghostsoap #ghost cod

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore!"

Warnings: misperception of cheating (Jason doesn't actually cheat, he'd never my baby boy mwah), mentions of alcohol, comparisons to Artemis, self-shaming

When Jason walked into your shared apartment, a faint smell of alcohol travelled through the air. This raised your suspicions even more.

Jason had told you last night he had gone on a quick emergency mission instead of his usual patrol, so he wasn't able to message or call you.

But last night, quickly popping into a nearby bar that your cousin worked at to drop off her house keys that she forgot she left with you, you saw a familiar black with a white streak hair man at the counter just when you were walking out the door. And for a split second, you could've sworn you saw a long-haired ginger woman beside him.

You shook the idea away, telling yourself that you trust Jason. Ever since Jason told you that he was Red Hood, the two of you pinky swore to never keep secrets from each other. You would've thought by then that Jason would've told you more about it, but he was pretty quiet about it. You figured that it was all the same mishaps for every patrol.

But you could smell his usual Coors Light wafting off of him as he walks towards you to kiss your head.

"Hey pretty," he barely mumbled before going into the kitchen, digging through the fridge.

As much as his little nicknames made your heart beat faster, you couldn't get the faint image of his hair and a certain Amazonian ex's hair together. And every second you thought of it, the more you could feel your heart crack a little further.

"Where were you last night?" Your voice was small, but the small, almost empty apartment made it easy for Jason to hear you.

"What? I told you, I was at a missi-"

"Don't lie to me. I know you weren't on a mission. I saw you." You spat. You wanted to be wrong. You wanted Jason to laugh at you, hug you, and call Dick or Bruce or anyone and tell them to tell you he was on a mission with them.

"Were you with Artemis?" You ask, wanting it all to be untrue.

Jason didn't look at you. He sighed. "Yeah? So what. It's not like anything happened." He said nonchalantly.

"You expect me to believe that after you lied to me about going on a mission and I catch you at a bar with your ex?" You scoff, your arms crossed and leg folded over the other. You sucked in a breath. "You know, you could've at least broken up with me. It would've felt nicer than you blatantly cheating on me without trying to let me know"

"Wait, what?" Jason said in disbelief. He couldn't say anything else. He didn't know how to explain his situation to you. So he stayed silent.

You slowly nodded your head. "Okay," you whispered, getting up to go to your shared bedroom. Well.. maybe not so shared bedroom now. You grabbed a bag, trying to stuff whatever you can into it.

Jason soon rushes in after you. "What- what are you doing??" He asks in a panic. "You're not leaving- you can't, please!" He begs.

You shook your head. "You left first! You left me by the time you let Artemis all over you! You know what- Honestly, I'm so stupid. Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me anyway."

You didn't see Jason or Artemis all over each other that split second that you saw them. But now knowing that they definitely were together last night - that whole night, all you could imagine Jason realising that you weren't enough for him, that maybe he made a mistake separating with Artemis.

You wiped away the falling tears you didn't even know escaped your eyes as you zipped up the bag.

"No, wait! Don't leave- Dammit!" Jason fumbled over his words. "Nothing happened! She wasn't all over me! Just- Just stay, okay?? Nothing happened. Seeing her last night was just a one-time thing!"

You could hardly process what he was saying. There was ringing in your ears, and your vision was blurred. "Don't do that to me. Don't do that 'one-time' bullshit. If you really wanted me to stay, it should've been a zero time thing."

It was obvious that you thought you were a downgrade to Jason's past lovers. Or at least that's what you thought. But you found yourself so much less as a partner than his other lovers that all you can think about him going back to any of them.

"Listen, I'm sorry! I promise nothing happened! I won't lie to you again! It won'thaopen again!" He raises his voice, desperate for you to stay.

I slumped my shoulders. "How am I supposed to believe it won't happen again, huh? If it happened once, it's bound to happen again! How am i supposed to believe that you won't run off again to some other girl who's stronger, prettier and- and is just as badass as you are- I'm none of those things, Jason! If that's what you really wanted, then why even bother with me?!" You lay out all of your insecurities and weakness to Jason. Your breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

His brows furrowed. You were strong. You were beautiful. And you'd never even given him the chance to think you weren't.

"I'm not 'bothering' with you! What I really want is you! Not some other girl with muscles and-" He paused, trying to gather his words. And failing. He had no idea what the right thing to say was. All he knew for sure was that you were the only one he wanted. "I only want you."

"Then why the hell were you with Artemis in the first place?" You cried, throwing your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave.

"Look. It was just one time. I was at a weak place and- and she was there to help me. That's it. Nothing more." He tried to explain.

"So why not come to me if you're feeling that way, Jason?! That's literally what I'm here for, I'm here for you! Was I just not enough that you had to go to Artemis?!"

He growled, the question hitting a nerve. "You know I would tell you if something was bothering me. The reason I didn't is because- because I don't want to be a burden to you! You have enough shit knowing who I really am and I-"

He paused, swallowing. "You don't need me to be another bother in your life. You're strong, you're confident, you don't need me weighing you down with my bullshit."

You scoffed, pulling your hair back, your hand gripping against your hair. "Jesus Christ- I WANT you to weigh me down with your bullshit! That's my job when I decided to be in a relationship with you! When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore! That's why I always talk to you when I have problems because I know you're there to help me! I know I know nothing about your life as a vigilante, and that Artemis is probably best suited for you, but I'm here, Jason! So don't you dare use that bullshit excuse on me!" You panted, tired and dried tears on your cheeks. You dropped yourself to sit on the bed, holding your face in your hands, your elbows resting on your knees.

You knew Jason had as many insecurities as you did. You knew the struggles he had as a vigilante. But you wanted him to come to you. You didn't want to push him by forcing him to tell you his problems.

Your words struck a chord in him. You wanted him. All of him. Not just the good parts but the bad parts as well. Even all his 'bullshit.' He took a step closer, testing the waters and putting his hands on your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I never should have kept those things from you. I guess I just- I mean, I thought that you knowing about my life scared you enough. I didn't want to put more on you about my problems about my job too.." He weakly says, his head hanging low as he sits beside you on the bed. "I just thought... If I don't tell you any of this shit... you wouldn't be overwhelmed... and that you wouldn't leave."

You shook your head. "You're so selfish. You're so fucking selfish for thinking about those things about me. For thinking I'd leave you just because you're not perfect- I'm literally dating you because you're not perfect." You said quietly, your voice hoarse and raw.

Jason felt a lump grow in his throat. "I just didn't want to hurt you," he insisted, pressing his forehead against yours. "I just didn't want to lose you. And I messed everything up. But I promise you. Nothing happened between me and Artemis. You mean more to me than she ever has."

He sighed, looking into your eye. "Can you forgive me? Can we go back to the way things were?" He asked softly. "Please..." His quiet pleads were small and desperate. His eyes were soft and glossy, with hopes of you staying.

You slowly pulled away from him. "Get me my bag." You said with no emotion.

"What?" He said, feeling deflated and feeling his soul shatter.

"Just do it." You demanded.

His eyes closed as his shoulders slumped, feeling like he finally lost you, that you had really given up on him. His fingers tightened around his fists. After a moment, Jason went to get your bag across the room and brought it around to you, presenting the bag to you in his hands. He he stood in front of you, waiting for you to take the bag and leave.

"Now take the stuff out of it and put it back where they were," you muttered while sniffling.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "I-What?" His eyes widened slightly as he slowly realized what you were getting at. Your words suddenly caught up in his brain, and he realized exactly what you were asking of him. You weren't going anywhere. Jason rushed to take everything out of the bag and put them back where they belonged. He then stood in front of you, waiting for you to speak.

You shifted from your spot, laying yourself comfortably on the bed, your back facing him.

Like communicating telepathically, he laid next to you, just as you secretly wanted, ready to apologise for the millionth time until you spoke up.

You sighed and paused before speaking. "I'm not forgiving you. Not now, at least. And I doubt I'll forgive you tomorrow. Or the day after. But I will... Eventually.." You took a deep breath. "But I'm not leaving you. Because I love you. But if you pull this shit ever again, I might. And probably kill you. And from now on, you need to tell me shit you're going through. No matter how bullshit it may seem. So that you don't have to lie to me or find comfort someplace else. So that I can understand you.. And so that you wouldn't feel the need to go find some other girl who you think can carry your weight better than I can. Understand?" You said, avoiding eye contact.

"I understand," Jason finally said with a nod. He reached out his hand to touch your face. "I'm sorry. You mean the world to me. I don't want to lose you either. And you're right... I won't keep things from you anymore. You'll be the first to know now..."

You slowly nodded, finally looking in his eyes. You let yourself cuddle closer to him. As you pressed yourself against him, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight squeeze. His fingers traced your spine, and he breathed in the scent of your hair. He was so grateful that you weren't leaving... That you were still willing to give him another chance.

"I love you," he whispered, holding you close.

I need constructive criticism. did i make reader or whole thing too dramatic or... I NEED FEEDBACK

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #titans jason todd #i love jason todd #dc titans #jason todd titans #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x male reader #jason todd ff #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #jason todd angst #red hood angst #red hood x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #red hood x female reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x you #jason todd is my life #red hood fluff #red hood fanfiction #red hood fic #mickeysideas

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

helloo! this is my first request ever on here loll and i hope its not too muchh 😅

req: gemini, she/her, fluff/nsfw (i dont mind!) and sukuna maybe.. hehe 🤭

ok that's all, thanks!! 🫶🏻💕

Oh fuck you know I have to write something for Sukuna. thank you, fellow Gem! 💅🏻🩷

Honored to be your first request!

_______________________________________________

You got…🥁🥁🥁

Sukuna!

“You talk a lot,” Sukuna said dryly. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, completely shirtless with his tattoos exposed. He seemed entirely uninterested in what you were talking about, which kinda hurt your feelings.

“H-huh?!” You exclaimed, your face twisting into a scowl as you grew defensive.

“How dare you say that to me! You should be honored that I even want to speak with you! God, you’re such an arrogant prick-“

You sucked in a deep breath of air, frowning the entire time. Sukuna was really fucking bold. He clearly didn’t care about sparing your feelings. And talking too much was one of your biggest insecurities. You hated when people would find you boring or uninteresting. But then again, Sukuna was the king of curses. You really shouldn’t have expected anything more from him.

Sukuna rolled his eyes.

“Stop being such a dramatic bitch. I can practically smell your arousal from here.”

He said it so simply. Entirely unfazed by the situation. Meanwhile you could feel your face growing hotter by the second. Were you feeling aroused…? No. That couldn’t be true. There was no way that you could ever get turned on by something like this.

Sukuna smirked at you.

“Don’t believe me?” He asked. His tone was menacing. He was definitely the most terrifying man you had ever encountered before. But he seemed to have a soft spot for you. This childish banter was the norm. You were used to cursing at each other and arguing. But nothing more than that had ever happened. You never even considered having sex with Sukuna.

Sukuna was in front of you all of a sudden. He slid his hand up your skirt, rough fingers making contact with the soft skin of your thighs. It sent shivers through your entire body. You were utterly shocked.

“S-sukuna,” you whispered. You had no idea what was going on.

Sukuna brushed your panties to the side. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt one of his big fingers trailing in between your folds. He was gathering up your slick.

“See,” Sukuna uttered. “This pussy is so wet for me.”

_____

“H-how are you this hard?” You whimpered, helplessly holding onto one of Sukuna’s biceps. He was thrusting into your tight heat carefully, the muscles in his back working to keep himself upright so that he could stare at you.

“I’m always this hard,” he said.

You whined at that. Your legs were spread impossibly wide and his cock felt rock hard. Splitting you open effortlessly. But the pain was quickly starting to subside when Sukuna began pressing into your G-spot.

“Mmf!” You groaned.

Sukuna grabbed your wrists then, pressing them together above your head with one of his hands. He started to pump into you much faster, taking advantage of your growing arousal.

“That’s it, virgin. Come around this hard cock.”

#sukuna x female reader #daddy sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna imagines #sukuna smut #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna #smut #virgin reader

[moon7jay]

i have big boobs and i just feel like heeseung a boob guy ( just feeding into my delusions ) like he’s OBSESSED with tits he constantly needs to be sucking, touching, looking or even fucking tits. if he isn’t able to do any of those things he becomes a whiny mess:( begging you to let him do something to your gorgeous big tits i also lowkey feel like he like to show his partner off so he would make them wear something that shows there boobs off letting everyone know that there his.

i might have went insane…….. can i be ⚫️anon?

Yes ofc ⚫ anon, here u go!

MINORS DNI

Let me tell u that hee IS definitely a boob guy, I just feel like he would go cross eyed if you wore anything with a deep neckline around him, just straight up drooling. It's like his thoughts are limited when your tits are in his line of vision- suck or fuck.

And don't get me wrong, not only in a sexual manner, he would also be obsessed with your boobs in a literal manner, hands always under your top, just squeezing on them, like a form of stress relief.

He had a bad day? Best believe he's gonna be nuzzling his face In those titties, arms around your waist while he rants to u about his day. There's not a better place to die to him than in between your tits.

But he's also a horny man and you are a carefree girl just prancing around your apartment without a bra on, not noticing how your boyfriend's eyes are laser focused on them beauties, his mind not registering a single word jake is telling him on the phone, quickly hanging up on him to rush to your side. Caging you against the kitchen counter, hands already kneading your boobs, dick rock hard and throbbing in his sweats as he tells you how bad he needs u to give him a titty fuck.

You know how needy he gets for you and u always use it to your advantage, getting him to do things which he won't do in normal situations

"Will u let me tie u up? " U ask him, smiling triumphantly at the way his eyes track the necklace with his initial sitting so prettily between your cleavage it makes him groan out loud

"Anything, do anything with me darling"

And u do. Tying him up and edging him till he's a whiny mess, just rubbing your tits against his dick, giving him enough friction to make him leak precum but not enough to cum.

You run his swollen cockhead on your pebbled nipples and then take your own nipple into your mouth, just moaning around it, all the while maintaining eye contact with his desperate lust blown eyes

"U wish u could do that huh baby?" u giggle as he nods vigorously

"u have no fucking idea"

When tears start falling from his eyes with how good his cock feels being fucked by your plush tits, you finally decide to give him much needed relief and squeeze your tits tighter, lubricating your cleavage with your saliva, making it extra wet and messy for him.

And when u lick his cum off of your chest with your fingers after he busts a nut on you, he swears he sees heaven. The initial of his name around your neck covered in his cum makes him feel like a caveman.

Possessiveness wise too, he acts like a caveman tho. Will never control what u wear but if u decide to flaunt your curves and cleavage while y'all are out, u bet that heeseung's territorial hand around your waist ain't going nowhere the entire night. His 6 feet long figure hovering over you, feeling proud that u are his, never afraid to show you off but eyeing down every eye that rests more than a few seconds on u.

You definitely are in good hands. Your boobs too.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #enha #⚫anon

[smuttykdrama]

[Suhyeok x Bully!Hambie!Gwinam's Sister!Reader / All Of Us Are Dead]

Warnings: NONCON (Well, sort of? Suhyeok's saying no but he actually wants it?), Female Reader, Sub!Suhyeok, Dom!Reader, Smut, Degrading.

(A/N): So i just finished AOUAD and hOLY FUCK i need more Suhyeok smut. I'm a massive fucking domme so had make this idea into a fanfic!! I might make a longer one tbh, like a book on wattpad or something haha. Anyways, filth under the cut!

"What are you smirking at, you brat, huh? Answer me.“

You moved like a predator, dangerous and calculating, and Suhyeok panted pathetically before you even touched him. You'd roughed him up a little so he was too exhausted to dare to escape your clutches.

“Nothing! None of your business, Yoon (Y/N)."

As defiant and brave as ever, Suhyeok wasn’t going to give himself up without a fight, even if he didn’t want to win that fight anyways. You'd found him alone in a classroom full of zombies, fighting for his life. Luckily, you were there to help him out of that sticky situation...and into another one. You and your psycho brother, Yoon Gwinam, had both turned into a Hambie. Conveniently, Gwinam told you that Suhyeok was yours, as long as he have Cheongsan to torment. Nightmare siblings, everyone called you.

"Lee Suhyeok. I saved you. How are you going to repay me, huh?"

You picked him up from the floor like he weighed nothing, ripping his blazer and shirt apart almost instantly, shocking him. A part of Suhyeok felt violated, but another part excited him. He'd hanged with the school bullies before, hence he knew you, and secretly liked you and your fierce attitude.

"Come on, thats enough, (Y/N). Let me go. I have to get back to the others."

Your eyes widened in anger.

"Say that again. I dare you. Do you know what fucking bullshit i had to go through to finally capture you?!"

Suhyeok accidentally moaned as you cornered him and tangled a hand in your hair, tugging on it. You basically hissed, nails leaving tracks across the tanned, unblemished skin of his chest. He gasped, attempting to push you away as you sucked on his neck harshly, making sure not to bite him...yet.

“Wha- (Y/N)..stop - nnghh..."

Suhyeok trailed off, groaning, his adams apple bobbing up and down as you traced his neck. It made you thirsty for more; to claim him as yours, to hurt him more. There was nothing more erotic than a strong fighter submitting to you completely, unable to defend himself from your advances. The truth is, ever since Suhyeok stopped talking to you, your brother and the other bullies, day by day you grew more frustrated with him. And his stupid bravery. The fact that he's not yours. That hes so perfect and good and distancing himself from you. From evil.

"Please, (Y/N). I have to help our classmates -"

Oh come on. Even when he was being violated like this, Suhyeok was thinking of others. At this point he knows he’s going to be punished for even believing that you were a nice person. Because you were a possessive freak. A weirdo. Someone who’s entire existence is frowned upon. If only he knew what it was like to be infatuated with someone until you’d either kill a person, or them.

SLAP.

“Don’t you get it? You’re mine. Stay out of everyone’s sight. Don’t touch them, talk to them, look at them, or even breathe in their direction. I'll kill you if you go back."

Before Suhyeok could say anything else, he choked on his next words as you peeled your panties off and picked him up, thrusting straight onto him, his cock completely filling you up. In that moment, he felt himself crumble in front of you. In this very moment, all Suhyeok wanted was to feel alive again. To forget about the damn zombies. You felt the sweet sting of him stretching you open, filling you to the brim and you know you’d never feel this with anyone else. No matter how shady and unethical and terrifying you were, Suhyeok knew you were not the kind of woman you find twice. 

“Are you fucking with me? You like this don’t you? You dirty little whore, Lee Suhyeok, enjoying being used by a filthy possessive girl like me. You want to be owned. Be thankful i haven't turned you already."

You weren’t taking your time, the way you’re fucking him into the wall—bucking your hips into his at a frantic pace and making him whine—it wasn’t for pleasure. No, he could tell by the way you’re keeping him close, not trying to change your angle to get deeper, that you wanted to possess him completely.

"Harder..."

He finally whispered, his eyes averting from your gaze as you fucked him into oblivion. The slapping of flesh was loud, and so was the sound of Suhyeok's ever so needy moaning. And your heavenly whimpers.

"(Y/N), fuck, im yours. I'm yours, so own me."

That's what you liked to hear.

[END]

#suhyeok #lee suhyeok #kdrama imagine #kdrama x reader #suhyeok x reader #suhyeok smut #suhyeok imagine #all of us are dead #all of us are dead imagine #all of us are dead x reader #all of us are dead smut #smut #dom!reader #sub!character #aouad #aouad x reader #aouad smut

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 06

PREVIOUS

Andrew is dragging FF across campus towards where he parked his car and he is kinda of concerned that FF is just like fully letting himself be dragged across campus. I’m talking full on Andrew has a grip on the back of his hoodie, FF is just staring up at the sky, FF’s feet don’t even attempt to stop Andrew from pulling him where he wants to go, and when Andrew looks back FF’s face is just :I

Which even Andrew can admit is kind of weird.

Meanwhile FF is just like ‘The ground hasn’t really gotten cold yet so I’m sure Captain Neil and Andrew could really go to town on the hole they’re going to bury me in. I wonder what gave me away? It was probably the fucking Russian Literature book. I didn’t even like the plot twist in that one anyways. Can’t BELIEVE I’m gonna die due to my love of trashy literature. Thanks Grandma. Wait I’m sorry grandma, I didn’t mean to be rude-“

“Hey Granny Smith! I’ve been looking for you!” A most loathed nickname coming from a most loathed voice. Andrew doesn’t stop towing FF because why the hell would he? FF has never been so grateful to be dragged to his death! Now if only Andrew would break his long standing and well-known absolute refusal to do anything more than walk at a brisk pace.

He sees his step-brother jogging up to him and FF almost turns to Andrew to ask if he could just kill him HERE so he doesn’t have to deal with his step-brother and THEN get stabbed to death in the forest? He can accept that he should have told Andrew and Captain Neil that he knows Russian and the death sentence that rightfully comes with that but like C’MON having to deal with his Step-brother is just cruel and unusual punishment!

His step brother catches up and in a way maybe all the mental torture he’s gone through since coming to Palmetto is a good thing! He really was a novice at the poker face before and now he’s a grand master champion of staring at something that’s gonna SUCK and pretending like he has no idea that it is.

“Whoa there Granny.” His Step brother grabs his arm and tugs him out of Andrew’s grasp. Andrew really had not been paying attention to whatever jack off had been yelling something about apples. So FF getting yanked out of his hand was actually his first indication since FF didn’t say or react at all before. “You’ve been dodging all of Dad’s calls y’know. You still haven’t sent anything that we asked you for, got any excuse for that?!” His step brother demands.

FF looks heavenward because this is, like, so embarrassing. He can feel people stopping and staring at them.

(They were staring before his Step-brother showed up because he was getting visibly dragged through campus by ANDREW MINYARD. Some of his friends who had seen it were already planning a memorial service and candle vigil)

“Nope.” Because he has nothing to say about whatever the hell his step brother is talking about.

“Mom’s heartbroken you know! You haven’t reached out to her once!” he says. 

“I’ll get on that.”

“Are you going to get the stuff we asked you for?! We are family aren’t we? We’re not asking for a lot. Just for you to get tickets to your games for Dad’s colleagues, some autographs from your teammates, and a good word to that bleeding heart coach that we all should get the free ride you’re getting. That’s not too much right?!”

Andrew hasn’t intervened yet but now Andrew is under the impression that FF stopped hanging out because the kid’s family has been harassing him with calls and maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve come in person to campus. That’s why FF has been fading into the background. Andrew’s now under the impression that FF’s family has wanted him to use the Foxes (tickets, autographs, scholarships for his step brothers) and FF had just been pulling away so his asshole family wouldn’t bother the rest of them. That FF may not have been able to cut off contact completely because of a grandparent he was close to.

These are, in fact, the WRONG impressions of the situation at hand. The truth of the matter is that Wymack helped him get a new phone and phone number within 24 hours of getting to Palmetto, it was the one extra that he asked for in his contract and Palmetto is paying his phone bill now. The phone with the number his ‘family’ had just sits charging in a drawer on silent in Wymack’s desk because Wymack is INFINITELY petty when it comes to the things his Foxes are running from.

The other truth of the situation at hand is that Fluent Freshman’s grandma is the only member of his family he talks to regularly and he talks to her almost every single day of his life, she is the only person he can be completely honest with because she knows what a wimp he is and loves him regardless. 

His Grandma is just an EXCELLENT actress. So when his ‘family’ comes over for answers she’ll sigh, stare longingly at a framed photo of FF, and look out the window with a single pre-staged tear in her eye. She wouldn’t give them his new number no matter what.

He loves his grandma even if it was her teaching him Polish, her native tongue, that lead to him getting interested in the other slavic languages that lead him down the deadly path to Russian.

ANYWAYS.

Andrew is under some very wrong impressions but he is also under one very correct impression and it’s the impression that’s the most important anyways.

Fluent Freshman’s family is what made him a Fox and Fluent Freshman’s family are therefore the enemy.

Except FF doesn’t give Andrew the time to pull out his knife, “No, I don’t wanna do that. Bye Greg.” He says, pulls out his student ID, slaps it on a nearby scanner for a STUDENT ONLY building and power walks inside leaving Andrew and his Step Brother alone.

The door shuts behind FF with a distinctive lock and Greg looks at Andrew his face purpling from anger, “You’re going to let me in there and-“

Andrew now has plenty of time to pull out his knife. “You’re going to what?”

Greg swallows and in a show of excellent survival instincts runs the fuck away.

Andrew watches him run before he turns back to the STUDENT ONLY building and heads in himself. He finds FF just inside the doors and he looks tired sitting there against the wall. FF doesn’t say anything to Andrew, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there. Andrew takes a spot on the wall across from him. People give them weird looks but Andrew is fine with waiting.

He doesn’t mind just sitting in silence with FF again even if the circumstances aren’t what they usually are. So they sit.

FF has blue-screened. The stress of his impending death, of his step brother showing up and saying crazy shit, he blacked out a bit from the stress of being between Andrew and Greg and has no memory of what he said before he walked into this building and then there’s the fact that he just WALKED INTO SOME RANDOM CAMPUS BUILDING (oh god he’s probably not supposed to be in here but Greg is definitely still loitering outside maybe security will be gentle if he just sits right by the exit so they don’t have to go far to kick him out? Maybe he should move near a Different exit so Greg doesn’t see him get tossed like yesterday’s trash? Well he already sat down so now it’s embarrassing if he gets up to just go SIT AT SOME OTHER EXIT.)

So he’s taking a moment to reboot.

Unfortunately his ability to have internal conversations and recognize that someone is there with him is one of the last things that loads.

“It’s fine. I’ve always been the leftover kid. I don’t care that they don’t care. I don’t care either.” He says and it’s a mantra he’s repeated for almost a decade now.

It is definitely not something he thought he was saying out loud in the presence of Andrew Minyard and it is also definitely not something he was SAYING to Andrew Minyard but how the hell would ANDREW MINYARD KNOW THAT WHEN FF IS STARING STRAIGHT AT HIM WHEN HE SAYS IT.

So Andrew thinks it’s the explanation FF is offering about his step brother / family. If there’s one thing Andrew knows the feeling of it is being the ‘leftover’ kid.

The one-sided kinship grows while FF is working on rebooting his vision and getting his heart rate down to a BPM that wouldn’t have medical doctors concerned.

Finally, FF blinks his vision has returned back to him, sees Andrew Minyard across the hall from him, and, by the grace of GOD considering his fried nerves, FF does not flinch.

Andrew doesn’t make any move to grab him and FF decides to take this momentary reprieve that his executor is granting him to shoot off a text to his grandma. “I am so grateful for all the love you have given me throughout my life. I think I’m going to see Dad in the next few hours so please let me know if there’s anything you want me to say to him.” Is what he sends.

(This grandma has gotten almost this exact same text when he had an oral presentation last week. Her grandson is a wimp but she loves him.)

“Are we still going on that drive?” He asks his affairs settled. It’s nice that Andrew let him have a breakdown here and even let him text his grandma his final thoughts. He was willing to use his blood to write out the message but where would he get the paper?

“Yeah, we can go on that drive.” Andrew gets up and offers his hand to FF who looks at it for a long moment KNIVES. THOSE ARE KNIVES. HE USUALLY CONCEALS THEM BETTER? IS THIS HIS WAY OF SAYING HE’S GOING TO BE REALLY MESSY WITH MY DEATH? OH GOD HE’S NOT READY.

(Andrew didn’t really take the time to put his knives back in his arm bands properly because he figured he needed to catch FF before the kid disappeared again. He didn’t think he’d find him just inside the door.)

FF pushes himself up onto his feet.

They get to the Maserati and FF was AWARE that Andrew had a nice car but he hadn’t pieced it together that he’d be doing his last ride in such a nice car. He briefly pauses by the trunk wondering if he should just save Andrew the trouble and climb in himself?

Andrew sees FF pause at the car and figures he’s just being polite not touching Andrew’s stuff without Andrew’s permission. FF is just that kind of guy.

“The passenger seat is available.” Andrew says and alright cool Andrew wants to threaten him first that makes sense.

Except Andrew doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t drive them to a remote location. He’s just driving around Palmetto and FF does not think that Andrew is planning on crashing the car to kill him (He has unfortunately heard Aaron and Andrew have a fight in German when he was waiting for his own appointment with Betsy so he also Is aware what happened to their mom no matter HOW HARD he tries to forget that he knows.)

It’s just actually kind of a nice drive?

“He called you Granny Smith.” Andrew states. (Wondering if THAT is the elusive first name)

“I’m close with my Grandma. My last name is Smith. They’re not that creative.”

“Hm.” (Dammit)

Andrew watches as FF’s shoulders eventually relax until he’s almost falling asleep in the Mas and decides that the drive has done it’s job.

Eventually Andrew parks in front of the tower, tells him to respond to his texts from at least him and Neil, and he is released feeling very much like one of those animals that were released back into the wild after being tagged.

He texts his grandma later “NVM it wasn’t that bad.”

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew to Neil later: His Family was the issue. #Neil: So it's not something we did? #Andrew: No. He wanted to take a ride with me #Neil: Oh that's great. #Nicky sitting back watching this unfold: It's like a Daytime Soap Opera except I get to be one of the characters. #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #AFTG OC #AFTG fic #My Fics #FF - Pt. 06

[kwonzoshi]

“We stop them.” Marie said, nerves evident in the quiver of her voice. Jordan glanced at Emma, who was strangely composed about this entire situation. Then again, not everyone reacts the same to homicide. 

“Okay, fine. We stop them.” Jordan said, eyes glancing from Emma to Marie. “What’s the plan?” 

After taking a few moments to gather themselves, all three of them made their way to the main campus. The air cackled with different degrees of emotion. Anger, fear, frustration, more fear. Jordan, still in their fem form, stole glances at Marie. There were so many unspoken things between them. So many moments they may not get to have. 

The walk was quick, and quiet. Before they knew it they made it to The Woods. Only to find that Cate and Sam had already wreaked havoc and left a pile of bodies behind.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Jordan said quietly, huffing a breath. The guard that lay in front of them had his entire face ripped off. It was so grotesque it seemed almost fake, and they knew this was only the beginning. “We have to split up,” Marie started, glancing at Jordan and Emma. “Emma, you clear the performing arts center. Okay, teachers, administration, everyone.” She turned to face Jordan, “Jordan, you sweep the student union.” “There’s a panic button in Shetty’s office.” they looked up at Marie, “Under her desk. It’ll lock down pretty much everything.” Marie released a shaky breath, “Okay, that’s where I’m going.”

They started to make their way toward the entrance, Emma basically sprinting while Jordan and Marie trailed behind. As Emma disappeared from sight, Jordan made the decision to be brave, they might not get another chance. They grabbed Marie’s hand, stopping her. Marie looked down at them, concern and confusion all over her face.

“Hey…” they started, eyes locking onto hers. “Before we go out there, to face whatever the fuck Cate started, I just have something I need to say.” They pulled their hand back, and rubbed it on their pant leg. “Ummm,” they let out a breath, “I know that this whole thing between us hasn’t necessarily been conventional. With everything going on, we really haven’t had the chance to do things the right way but we’re about to face some really big shit. Like, life threatening we could die, shit.” They chuckled dryly, “So I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for buying into Brink’s bullshit. I’m sorry for rejecting you from the school. I’m just sorry for everything. I needed to make sure I said that to you.” Marie smiled softly down at them, “You have nothing to apologize for, Jordan. You had no reason to believe that man was a piece of shit.” She shrugged, “It happens. People hide things. People suck. But as far as rejecting me from the school, yeah I’m never letting that shit go.” She laughed softly and took a step forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Jordan’s ear. “I forgave you the second you batted those beautiful brown eyes at me so… basically the next day. Besides, you’ve made up for it in more ways than one. You fought Golden Boy AND his brother to protect me.” Jordan chuckled, placing their hand on Marie’s waist, “Do not flatter yourself Moreau, I would’ve done that for anyone.” Their expression changed, “If we make it through this, I hope we get a chance to see where this thing goes. A real chance.” They raised a hand and gently stroked Marie’s cheek. “I don’t need to see anything else to know that we’re good together.” She mirrored Jordan’s caress, “I don’t doubt for a second that we’re making it through this. We have to.” “We have to…” they echoed before pulling Marie into a gentle kiss. Their hands moved in sync, cupping the back of each other’s heads gently. As tongue met tongue the kiss deepened, and became more demanding. They both knew that this could be the last time they’d have a chance to share a moment like this, so they dove in headfirst. Marie’s hand gripped Jordan’s shirt as they allowed themselves to be swept away, if only for a moment, by their feelings. They pulled apart, breath catching in their chests and their eyes screaming the things they were too scared to say out loud.

Neither spoke as they went their separate ways, wanting the last thing that they shared to be that sweet intimate moment. 

******

Jordan stood, a bright smile on their face as they turned to face Marie. They were in their masculine form now, slowly walking toward her. “See?” Marie said, smiling. “We’re good together.” Jordan chuckled as they continued to make their way towards her. 

Out of the corner of their eye they saw Cate approaching, arm stretched out. 

“NO!” Marie shouted, extending her own hand. Her fingers twitched and Cate’s forearm exploded, sending splatters of blood everywhere. Jordan saw the look of shock on Marie’s face. As if she wasn’t aware that she could do that. Cate’s screams filled the air and that was the last thing they remember before they woke up in an unfamiliar place. 

#kwonzoshi #Kwonzoshi writes #gen v #gen v amazon #gen v prime #limoreau #jordan li #marie moreau #jordan x marie #marie x jordan #derek luh #london thor #jaz sinclair #limoreau oneshot #gen v fic #mariejordan #gen v oneshot

[bunni-v1]

hii, congrats on 500 followers! if it’s okay, i’d like to request idia, trey and leona with D, J, K, M, and T for the NSFW alphabet ^^

🍓AGH I FORGOT YOU LAST NIGHT! I'm so sorry, I was so tired I didn't even notice you among the full list of requests. Please find it in your heart to forgive me!

TW: Idia is REALLY fucking weird; Incest mention (NOT between Ortho and Idia); Idia being a creep; Idia's kinks; Idia

Idia

D - Dirty Secret: Idia is known to watch the cameras at NRC. What people don't know is those cameras are EVERYWHERE (minus the dorm rooms and bathrooms). He sees the students "sneaking around" in broom closets and darkly lit hallways. He hears the muffled whines and moans of "exhibitionists" trying not to get caught. Little do they know they've had his eyes on them the whole time and he's enjoying himself right along with them. It's even better if you're involved (in the case that you're not together, though he's not against cuckolding completely). Seeing his crush be dominated (or do the DOMINATING) by someone else gets him all hot and bothered.

J - Jack Off: He is in a sexual relationship with his right hand. He jacks off all the fucking time -- at least thrice daily. It's always to the worst shit imaginable too, like fucked up incest hentai, anime girls that are HARDLY legal, the shit you'd imagine a shut-in to be into. He's embarrassed by it, 'cause the shit he does is so gross. He'd find it hot if you wanted to watch him though. He'd be all whiny and shy about it, but it's honestly the sexiest thing he's ever done.

K - Kink: The better question is what kink does he NOT have? Roleplay, marking, hardcore bdsm, cuckolding, blah blah blah. You name it, he's considered it and gotten off to it at least once. However, his favorite thing? Soft mushy sex. The kind where you hold his hand and tell him how good he's doing, how well he gets you off, how big his dick is, how pretty he is when he cries. Ugh, that's the shit for him.

M - Motivation: Brushing his hand with yours is enough to make him pop a boner. You can't blame him though, he's never felt the touch of another person who isn't his literal family.

T - Toys: Yeah of course he uses toys. He has a collection (that he HIDES like it's the nuclear codes or something) that he uses on himself when he feels like it. If you wanted to use them on him he wouldn't be opposed... if you want him to use them on you, well, that's even better.

Trey

D - Dirty Secret: Believe me or not, Trey is a fucking perv. He's REALLY ashamed of it because he's Heartslabyul's resident good-boy big brother. He's a role model for most of his dorm mates, so him creeping on the other guys in the locker room isn't something he wants to get out. Oh yeah, he's a panty sniffer lol.

J - Jack Off: Despite being a perv, he doesn't feel a need to get off all that often. Back at home, he doesn't have the time or privacy to. So he just learned to deal with a raging boner. However, when he does, which is rare, he prefers the fantasy of you under the table sucking him off during class over anything porn can offer.

K - Kink: Trey isn't all that kinky, other than the whole panty-sniffing thing. He likes things simple and easy, but he enjoys a power-dynamic kind of situation a lot. Never tell anyone this, but if you wanna play step-siblings with him, it's probably the hardest he ever cums in his life.

M - Motivation: Giving him personal attention over anyone else is a surefire way to get him up and going. Especially when other people want your attention, and you just hard focus on him. Sevens, he loves that, fuels a very rare possessive side of him that he doesn't let out often.

T - Toys: Nah, Trey's a pretty "I'm gonna do it myself" kinda guy. If a toy can give you more pleasure than he can, he's not really doing his jobe right, is he?

Leona

D - Dirty Secret: He wants to be DOMINATED. Put him in his PLACE, call him a good kitty, make him grovel, and beg for you to let him cum. It's his ultimate fantasy, and he wouldn't EVER admit it to anyone -- especially not you. He can't let you know you could have that power over him. (He's a hard dom until he's not, lol).

J - Jack Off: A lot of people say that Leona doesn't jack off but like...? Are we talking about the same character? There is NO WAY he doesn't just lay in bed and stroke it on a really lazy day. Like, yeah he doesn't particularly enjoy it, he'd rather have you, but you have to do what you have to do to get off.

K - Kink: Leona, surprisingly, isn't into anything too humiliating for his partner. I mean, he's got a humiliation kink that goes both ways -- but that's completely verbal degradation stuff. He's a choker, but he'd never slap you. He's pretty much into everything you'd expect a hard dom to be into, but he'd never physically hurt you. It's against his moral code.

M - Motivation: It's hard to get him motivated if he's not into something. So really, there's nothing that gets him motivated, he either wants to fuck you or he doesn't and nothing's changing his mind. Even that pretty silk set he bought you. He's tired now, come take a nap with him. (If you're insistent, he'll eat you out or smth, but don't expect much more than his mouth and hands.)

T - Toys: Leona, like Trey, is very much an "I can do it myself, we don't need toys" guy. And, he's right, he can. He honestly finds toys insulting to his ability and refuses ANYTHING like that ANYWHERE near him or you.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁 #leona kingscholar x reader #trey clover x reader #idia shroud x reader

[hearts4hughes]

hi bestie! could i get 22. “are you serious?!” “what’s wrong?” “there’s only one bed.” with jack hughes ?

one bed - jack hughes

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, intoxicated reader, mentions of alcohol, let me know if i miss anything :)

a/n: i was half asleep writing this. i’m sorry for any mistakes because i just skimmed through the proof read😭 hope you enjoy reading, lovies!

gif is not mine

i’ve been going on vacations with the hughes ever since i was born. my mom and ellen, have been friends since middle school. so it wasn’t coincidental when i became best friends with all the hughes brothers.

well, not exactly with all of them. jack and i have never been friends. i’m not sure what i did to him, but my presence just seems to annoying him. the ironic part about this though is that i also have the fattest crush on him. i’ve learned to live with the fact that we are never going to be anything more than acquaintances.

as we arrive at the hotel, we get out and grab our luggage. luke so kindly grabs one of my suitcases after ellen lectures him on normal chivalry.

“i can’t believe mom is making me carry on of your suitcases.” luke huffs, rolling his eyes as he aggressively wheels the extra suitcase into the lobby. i giggle hitting him on the shoulder.

“oh my god, it’s so much torture to carry a small suitcase into a hotel.” i tease, letting out a fake gasp, causing quinn to giggle.

“she’s right, lukey.” quinn tags along, a big grin spreading across his face.

“fuck you!” luke jokingly yells, scrunching up his face in disgust.

out of the corner of my eye, i notice jack next to us. he wears both airpods in his ears and scrolls through instagram. he catches me staring and mutters a ‘what are you staring at?’. i roll my eyes and decide to just look away instead of arguing.

“what’s up jack’s ass today?” i ask quinn and luke quietly. they both look over to jack, examining his stern features and look back to me.

“probably just being a little bitch as usual.” quinn shrugs as luke agrees.

i notice ellen and my mom making there way over to us. a little packet holds the keycards to our rooms.

“here are the keycards for your rooms.” ellen passed us all out a keycard except for jack. jack patiently waits for his keycard to be given to him, but furrows his brows when it’s not.

“mom, where’s my keycard?” jack asks, looking around to everyone else holding a small card in hand.

ellen shares a small look with my mom, “well, we only got 3 rooms.” she starts to explain, “one for y/m/n, one for luke and quinn, and the other for you and y/n.”

my eyes widen in horror and i begin to wonder if i heard her right.

“i’m sorry, what?!” jack and i exclaim simultaneously. i drop my bag to the ground and look at jack. he looks back at me with the same expression on his face.

“we all thought it would be good for you two to spend together,” my mom chimes in, “you’ve known each other since you were babies, and you still dislike each other. you two are the same age, you should be getting along the best if anything.”

“you guys were in on this too?!” i send a glare over to quinn and luke, who seem very amused at the current situation.

“listen, it’s not the worst idea to force you guys to get along.” luke admits and quinn shakes his head. i send them a stern look of betrayal before looking over to see jack having a frustrating conversation with ellen. i can’t hear exactly what he is saying, but i’m pretty sure it’s along the lines of ‘i hate her and cannot share a room with her’.

“it’s only for one week,” my mom points out, picking my backpack off the ground and handing it back to me, “so suck it up.”

knowing nothing i can say will change what’s happening, i finally accept the outcome and stomp over to the elevator. jack mirrors what i do, huffing in frustration. the elevator ride up to our block of rooms is quiet. i could quite literally feel the tension suffocating me.

when the elevator doors open, i step out and reread the number on my keycard. i scan the row of rooms until i read one that says 207. i don’t check, but i’m pretty sure jack is trudging along behind me. i press the card to the circular lock and wait for a green light to flash. once it does, i swing open the door and throw my belongings on the ground.

walking deeper into the room, i notice one king size bed instead of two separate beds.

“are you serious?!” i sigh out in frustration, running my hands through my hair aggressively.

“what’s wrong?” jack’s voice drips in annoyance and anger. he still stands behind me, my body blocking the view of the singular bed.

“there’s only one bed.”

jack basically pushes me out of the way to see if i’m telling the truth. as he takes a look for himself and quickly turns around sends me an angry glare. this makes my blood boil.

“why are you fucking mad at me?!” i ask. my words are stern and cold.

“because if you didn’t come on this stupid vacation, this wouldn’t of happened!” he yells back in the same tone. he doesn’t even let me respond before he’s swinging open the door to the room, leaving me speechless and alone.

tears begin to swell in my eyes as i sit down on the bed. things don’t usually upset me like this, but jack yelling at me really did. trying to recollect myself, i raise to my feet and walk towards the bathroom. from there i close the door and turn on the shower. stripping down, i step inside the shower, hoping to wash away all the negativity.

**

it’s been at least three hours since jack and i’s little dispute and i’m currently downing my fourth martini at the hotel bar.

after my shower i walked out into an empty hotel room. i figured jack was hanging out the quinn and luke so i just decided to chill out for a bit. it only took me about an hour to get sick of doing nothing, so i slipped on a black minidress and got ready to go have fun.

being my natural petty self, i didn’t even text quinn or luke where i was going to. i needed to forget everyone for a little bit, so here i am, getting shitfaced.

“can i have a shot of straight vodka, please?” i’m urgent to get more alcohol in my body. the bartender nods, pouring vodka into a small glass and handing it to me. i waste no time before throwing my head back and downing all the vodka. the burning sensation from the drink lingers in my throat for a moment, but i’m used to it. “i’ll take another.”

“i think it’s time you stop drinking for the night.” the bartender denies my request, grabbing the empty shot glass and putting it in the dishwasher behind her.

“i’m not even drunk yet thought.” i whine, knowing damn well i’m wasted.

she barks out a sarcastic laugh and asks, “who broke your heart, love?”

“no one broke my heart.” i scoff. she raises both her eyebrows and looks at me in disbelief.

“what ever you want to believe, honey.” she walks away, assisting to another customer.

just as i begin to get up and leave the bar area, i hear a familiar voice behind me.

“y/n?” jack’s voice fills my ears making me not even want to turn around, but i do.

“what do you want?” i start slur, stumbling as a stand up. jack’s hands shoot up to my waist, supporting me so i don’t fall.

“you are plastered, aren’t you?” he asks. i don’t even bother to answer. i try to wiggle out of his hold and sneak away, but he doesn’t even budge. i throw my hands up in frustration.

“let me go.” i mutter.

“you can’t even walk to inches without falling over. there’s no way i’m letting to roam free around here.” he’s says in a stern tone. he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to argue with me which is a first.

the second time today, i just accept my fate and allow him to bring me up to the hotel room. i ended up not even being able to walk even with him supporting me, so he gave me a piggyback ride the rest of the way to the room.

as he opens the door to our room, he carefully sits me on the bed and shuts the door. he begins to take off my heels and dispose of them in the room somewhere.

he grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge and some advil from his bag. i take the medicine and water from his hands and chug it down.

i close my heavy eyes for a moment and when i open them again jack holds a clean tshirt and a pair of boxers.

“i don’t know where your stuff is in your bag, so it’s just easier if you wear my clothes for now.”

he’s being so nice.

why is he being so nice?

i walk into the bathroom and change into jack’s shirt and boxers. as i pull the oversized shirt over my head, i can’t help, but smell jack’s cologne on it. his scent gave me a sense of comfort and i was confused as to why. while in the bathroom, i also brush my teeth and hair so i’m not a total train wreck tomorrow.

“are you okay in there?” a small knock comes from the other side of the bathroom door and i open it, revealing myself in jack’s clothes. his eyes scan up and down my body. he doesn’t say anything, but his mouth stays open a little. he finally snaps back into reality and helps me to the bed.

as i pull the big covers over my body, i notice that jack isn’t getting into bed next to me, “are you going to sleep in the bed next to me?” i ask, looking at him like a lost puppy.

he stares at me for a moment before responding, “i was going to sleep on the floor, but if you want i can sleep in the bed.”

“could you sleep next to me, please?” i’m scared for his response, but i ask anyway.

“yeah, of course,” he coos, “just let me brush my teeth and stuff.”

i nod in response and lay down, waiting for jack to fill the empty space next to me. my heavy eyes are in need to be shut, but i keep them pried open, not wanting to fall asleep before he gets back.

it only takes a few minutes before i see jack emerging from the bathroom in just sweatpants. i can’t help, but stare at his exposed chest. it might just be my drunk mind, but his abs looked amazing. my eyes begin to go a little bit lower and they stop at his exposed v-line. the sweatpants hang low on his hips, showing just the right amount of his v-line. my throat begins to turn dry and jack blushes as he notices me checking him out.

“like what you see?” he teases, slipping into bed next to me.

“maybe i do.” i smirk, turning on my side to face him. he giggles at my flirty comment.

my smile begins to drop as i take a moment to exam his face. we’ve never been this close before. i notice how blue his eyes look, even in the dark lighting, and my eyes even flicker to his lips for a moment.

silence fills the room as we admire each other and i decide to speak up, “why were you at the bar?”

“well, i was-” he stutters a bit, searching for an excuse in his head. when he can’t find one he admits, “i was looking for you.”

“what?” my brows furrow at his response. it almost seems like he’s joking because why would he ever be looking for me? he couldn’t even stand in the same room as me three hours ago.

“i felt bad about yelling at you before and i wanted to apologize, but when i went into our room, you weren’t there. i basically searched the whole hotel for you before you caught my eye at the bar.” he closes his eyes and turns on his back. i don’t say anything and he begins to spiral, “listen, i- well, i didn’t mean to-”

“jack,” i cut him off.

“yeah..?” he asks, hesitantly.

“kiss me.”

he doesn’t waste anytime, turning to look at me and then smashing his lips against mine. we both sit up and jack moves me to straddle his lap. all the years of pretending i hated him, when i really was in love with him are thrown into the kiss. he slips his tongue in my mouth, catching me by surprise.

after at least a minute of nonstop kissing, i pull away breathlessly. i stare at jack’s face. he wears a proud smirk as his hands rest on my hips. i send him a cheeky smile in return.

“i’m in love with you.” i blurt out.

“i’m in love with you too.”

#hearts4hughes #jack hughes #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x reader #hockey blurb #nhl imagine #nora's writings 💐

[steddieas-shegoes]

If you're still accepting requests:

Steve has an embarrassing secret (regularly wet the bed as a teenager or something equally embarrassing) and Eddie and the kids find out and they make a few too many jokes about it, upsetting Steve. Eddie wises up and apologises and comforts Steve, and eventually gets the kids to apologise as well.

I hope it's okay I went a slightly different route for the embarrassing thing, but it just seemed like it fit more with me making Steddie happen😂 I also included Robin because I fully believe she was the first and only person to know about it since he was a child and she's super overprotective of him because of it. - Mickala ❤️

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

Eddie watched as Robin knocked Steve’s shoulder, effectively waking him up from the very brief doze he’d managed to slip into.

He wouldn’t think much of it except for the fact that it’s happened three times tonight.

If Steve’s that tired, she should just let him sleep. It’s his house, after all.

But she doesn’t.

No one else seems to notice, which is alarming on its own.

For a bunch of kids used to having to be observant about shit, they sure do seem oblivious to this. Maybe because they feel safe here? Maybe because they just assume Robin and Steve are weird?

When it happens a fifth time, Eddie calls them out.

“Why don’t you let the man sleep, Robbie?”

The kids all turn to look at him, then at Robin, who looks at them like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I just know he doesn’t wanna sleep yet,” she shrugged, clearly lying.

“Oh, c’mon. You would have given up by now if that was all,” Eddie pushed.

“It’s nothing, Eddie. Drop it,” Steve said, more serious than the situation could have possibly called for.

“Is it nightmares? Because you know we all get them sometimes,” Lucas asked.

“Nope.” Steve slapped his thighs as he starts to get up. “Anyone need a drink?”

“Is it embarrassing?” Eddie asked, finally realizing why Steve and Robin may be trying to avoid it.

“Nope,” Robin said.

Steve remained silent.

“What is it? You snore really loud? You talk in your sleep?” Mike asked, finally appearing to be interested in the conversation.

“I suck my thumb! There! You happy now?” Steve was bright red, and looked just irritated enough that Eddie considered not making a joke.

“Wait, like…when babies do it?” Max asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you have pacifiers, too?” Mike asked around a loud laugh.

Everyone giggled except for Robin, who was watching Steve with worried eyes.

“That explains why you always pretended to be super cold at sleepovers. You were hiding that you were sucking your thumb!” Dustin put together.

“Doesn’t that fuck up your teeth? Did you pay to have them fixed?” Eddie asked.

Part of him was genuinely curious, part of him was teasing.

But he watched as Steve’s face did something new, something he never wanted to see it do again.

He looked hurt, but more than that, he looked scared.

Why would he look scared of them?

Before he could say anything to get the kids to stop, Steve was walking away and Robin was getting up to follow him, sending them all a glare.

But the kids didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t think it was as serious as it was.

Eddie stood up and put his hands on his hips, not thinking about how much he must look like Steve in that moment.

“We fucked up. It’s okay to tease friends sometimes about stuff, but clearly Steve is really self-conscious about this and isn’t okay with it. When he gets back, you’re all gonna apologize. If you don’t, you leave. I’m gonna go check on him,” Eddie sighed.

The kids were silent as Eddie walked to the staircase and up the stairs.

As he got closer to Steve’s room, he could hear him crying and Robin talking quietly to him. He couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but he knew she was trying to reassure him.

Eddie knocked once on the door, hoping they’d let him in, hoping they’d realize that he wasn’t coming to hurt Steve anymore than he already had.

Robin opened the door, shielding Steve from view.

“What?” she asked him, trying to hide the sounds of Steve sniffling on his bed.

“I just wanted to apologize. I’ll leave after if he doesn’t wanna talk,” Eddie said quietly. He knew the kids were probably listening downstairs and he didn’t think they needed to be a part of this conversation.

“I don’t think he wants to see any of you yet,” Robin said, somewhat apologetically, like she knew Eddie meant it, but also wanted to protect her platonic soulmate.

“It’s fine, Robs,” Steve said from the bed, his voice completely broken.

Robin moved out of the way and let Eddie through, and when he looked at Steve curled up in bed, his heart broke.

Steve was always the strong one, always appeared confident even when the kids teased him about how much he cared about his hair or his lack of a date or his misuse of words.

Eddie had always loved that about him; That he could face anything with the confidence of a person who had never lost.

But this was different, and clearly he’d been so secretive about it for a reason.

“Can I sit with you for a second, Stevie?” Eddie asked, hoping Steve understood that he could say no if he wanted to. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure him into hearing an apology he wasn’t ready for.

Steve nodded, sniffling again as tears continued to fall from his eyes.

God, they really fucked up.

Eddie sat on the bed, watching as Robin left the room, silently having a conversation with Steve before closing the door behind her.

“I’m really sorry about the teasing. We should have realized that you didn’t want to make a big deal about it and stopped. No one actually thinks less of you because of something you can’t help, okay? Especially not me. I’m the last one to judge considering I still sleep with a stuffed animal every night,” Eddie admitted.

Steve lifted his head and looked at Eddie, lifting his hand to wipe at his nose.

It shouldn’t be as cute as it is, but Eddie’s already admitted to himself that he thinks everything Steve does is adorable.

“You do?” Steve asked.

“Yep. And, to make it even more embarrassing, I didn’t even have it since birth or anything. Wayne got it for me when I moved in with him when I was 10. He knew I was having trouble sleeping and thought it would help.”

“Did it?”

“Yep. I don’t always cuddle with him, but he’s always in my bed,” Eddie gave him a small smile.

“Does anyone know?” Steve rested his head back down on the pillow, closing his eyes.

“Just Wayne and you,” Eddie said, looking down at his lap.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Eddie looked over at Steve, who still had tears dripping from his eyes, though much slower.

Eddie reached out and used his thumb to slowly wipe them away.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“Is Robin the only one who knows?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but wanting to know a bit more.

“Other than my parents and Tommy, yeah. But I think Tommy thought it stopped by the time we got to high school. But um, my parents never liked it much. And I guess when it didn’t stop when I was in elementary school, they decided to try to make it stop. I remember them making me wear gloves, and soaking it in vinegar, and my mom even sprayed hairspray on it at one point to try to get me to stop, but it still happened. My dad refused to even talk about it once I hit middle school. And then they stopped coming home so I guess they figured it was my problem to deal with. Tommy pretended not to notice, which I guess is better than teasing me about it.” Steve sighed. “And then I fell asleep at Robin’s after Starcourt and it happened and she asked me about it. So now, she makes sure I don’t fall asleep in front of anyone so no one else finds out.”

Eddie nodded along, hating Steve’s parents even more, and somehow hating Tommy slightly less for at least not making Steve feel bad about it.

“It’s just a comfort thing, yeah? You don’t do it consciously.”

“Yeah. Robin said it’s something about oral fixation, which sounds dirty and I’ve told her a million times-”

Eddie smirked as he leaned in to kiss Steve on the lips.

It took Steve a moment to start kissing him back, but when he did, he let out a small sigh against Eddie’s lips and placed his hands in Eddie’s hair.

“Gotta say, I didn’t really think sucking my thumb in my sleep was a turn on,” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips when they parted, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Literally everything you do is a turn on for me. But besides that, I just wanted to kiss you. That okay?”

“Yeah. Uh. It’s great. Is that something you’d wanna do again or…?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him again instead of answering.

A knock on the door interrupted them, but Eddie didn’t move off the bed, just placed his hand on Steve’s hand by his head.

“Yeah?” he called to whoever was knocking.

“Can we come in?” Dustin asked through the door.

Eddie looked to Steve, who looked unsure.

“You don’t have to let them in, but I think they want to apologize,” Eddie whispered.

“Come in!” Steve called, though he didn’t move or try to make Eddie move his hand.

He seemed to want, maybe even need, the comforting touch.

The kids all piled into the room, all of them looking like they’d been through another round of Upside Down shenanigans.

“We just wanted to say we’re sorry about the teasing. El told us about how she started sucking her thumb when she first started living with Hopper because of all the changes and how hard it was to stop. We didn’t mean to take it that far and hurt your feelings.”

Will must have been the one chosen to speak for all of them, but they all added in their own apologies quietly when he finished.

“Thanks guys. It’s okay. I know it’s weird so I get it,” Steve said, still sounding too sad for Eddie’s taste.

“Hey, no. We all have weird things. It doesn’t give anyone a free pass to push boundaries,” Eddie said, giving the kids a look.

“Eddie’s right,” Dustin said. “I know what it’s like to be made fun of for stuff you can’t control and it sucks, even when it’s people you know don’t actually mean any harm. We’re really sorry.”

“It’s alright, guys. Thanks for saying you’re sorry. Is it okay if we have movie night tomorrow instead, though?”

The kids all agreed quickly, and Robin appeared by the door to tell them to call their rides and get the hell out.

She shot Eddie a look that said he’d be getting a very specific type of talk the next time she saw him, but she didn’t say anything as she kissed the top of Steve’s head and said her goodbyes.

“You don’t have to stay. I’m alright,” Steve said to Eddie, who was already slipping his shoes off so he could get comfy in bed with Steve.

“I’ll leave if you want me to, but I think I’d really like to stay.”

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the lamp in the corner and shut it off. It was still early, barely past dinner time, but he was exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions and not sleeping very well the night before.

“You can stay. But. Well, you know. It’s gonna happen,” Steve was blushing, but Eddie wasn’t gonna let him be embarrassed about it.

“I know. Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” Eddie shrugged.

“Okay.”

Eddie got in bed, pulling the comforter and sheets over him, and nestling against Steve’s back, wrapping his arms around his chest and tugging him close.

He felt Steve relax completely against him and he couldn’t help but smile against his shoulder, letting his lips linger there in a soft kiss.

It didn’t take long for Steve to fall asleep, Eddie could tell when he did from the way his breath started puffing out slower, his grip on Eddie’s arm going slack.

He soaked in the moment, let himself think about being here, holding Steve in his arms, kissing him.

And then he felt Steve’s hand that was laced with his lift up, and Eddie’s thumb was in Steve’s mouth before he could do anything to stop it.

He wouldn’t have stopped it anyway.

If this was what Steve needed, he would be here every night.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #request #ficlet #hurt/comfort #getting together

[drdemonprince]

Your blog is like a breath of fresh air. Thank you for all the wonderful thoughts and writing.

That said I actually have a question. I am pro-palestine(it feels stupid to call it that, as if it should even be a debate) and in a very left leaning friend group. But also a very white academic one. You know the type, read Marx, dream of the revolution but continue studying to end up in 9 to 5s instead of doing anything(I am guilty of it too, this isn't meant as insult just a description)

Anyways, as you can imagine they have been extremely hesitant when it comes to having any opinion on Israel or Palestine. That wouldn't be a problem in itself, I know how to start topics with them and get them thinking usually but in this case there is an additional problem. Whenever I try to broach the topic I get shutdown with "Look at all the shit that is going on here, our country is falling into fascism, I just don't have the energy to deal with this conflict. Please don't talk about it because it's triggering". And I have zero clue what to do. Forget getting them to go on protests with me, I can't even speak to them about it and feel really guilty. Its me bringing up a heavily triggering topic after all. It feels wrong to feel guilty though. I know at the end of the day it's not important if I could convince some people to give a fuck but do you have any advice? How to get over this guilt or maybe how to broach a topic with that considered?

My main problem is my fear of losing my friends because I have been ill for some time(as in physically unable to leave the house for more than a short grocery run, or my visits to the doctor, because of pain and my friends are what keep me alive) and losing their help would be not good.

My exact situation aside, do you have advice for someone to broach a topic that others describe as unpleasant/triggering without causing a huge rift in the group?

Thanks for your kind words and your question, Anon.

I think your friends suck and that you can do better than them. I think you should get out there and find yourself some Black, brown, working class anarchist and anarco-communist buds (and Marxists who show up for others in a real, observable way in their regular lives) as soon as you can.

I know that wasn't the answer you were looking for. But I have seen this kind of entirely theoretical, jaded, self-superior, passive, white well-off Marxist type a thousand times before, and I've failed to ever see them show up for other people in any kind of consistent way.

And it's not only the people systematically crushed beneath the wheel of Capital half a world away that they neglect, either. They tend to be pretty shitty friends and neighbors when it all comes down to it on the micro-level, too. Their smug over-intellectualism and dispassionate cynicism allows them to justify remaining disengaged and going along with the status quo in a way that ultimately serves capitalism very well.

There is a theoretical basis to this selfishness and disengagement, I will admit. This type of overly academic Marxist typically believes that the fall of capitalism is inevitable, that humans lack free will and only behave as befits their obvious material interests, and that there is nothing that one can do on a personal level to hasten any kind of Revolution, so there is nothing left to do but wait, and take care of oneself, and allow the future to unfold.

This is a perspective explicitly advocated for by people like the Chapo Trap House guys, and among academic white boy communist types, it is incredibly popular. I remember hearing Matt Christman saying on his vlogs that he essentially does not believe the conditions allowing capitalism to fall will happen in his lifetime, and so his only responsibility is to just take care of himself and his family and be comfortable.

Ultimately, these types wind up sounding and behaving exactly like capitalist economists who believe that everyone is rationally motivated only by increasing their personal wealth. They are disengaged from politics except insofar as they like to make snide jokes about current events for their own entertainment and enrichment, and they don't see themselves as having the capacity to exert a positive influence on the world, nor any obligation to. It's bleak shit.

At the same time, if your friends are in the circles that tend to read and listen to and promote this kind of stuff, surely they have also been exposed to popular leftist voices advocating loudly for the Palestinian cause. And yet still they have done nothing.

Hasan Piker has been vocally pro-Palestine his entire career, and his Twitch channel has been providing near constant coverage of Palestinian issues since October 7th. True Anon has had multiple episodes on the Israel Lobby, the suppression of pro-Palestinian activism and journalistic coverage, and has aired interviews with Normal Finkelstein. Palestine is the central topic of nearly every Trillbilly Worker's Party podcast for months now.

These are widely popular voices among the very types of Marxists that you say that your friends are, and many of these creators are close friends with the Chapo Trap House guys, whom your friends almost certainly are taking notes from. So it's nearly impossible to imagine that your friends have not encountered the near constant coverage of the struggle of the Palestinians that all the rest of us have. And yet still your friends do nothing. Still they do not care, and dismiss you when you share with them how despairing you feel.

Your friends have turned off an essential part of their hearts, I think. And I don't mean they lack empathy. Not having empathy is fine, I don't have it either -- but I make the conscious choice to care about the Palestinian cause and to advocate for it, because it aligns with my values. I give a fuck. My giving a fuck is conveyed through my actions, not through what I think about or how I feel.

Your friends are showing no interest in learning more about this genocide or doing anything about it. Perhaps some degree of ignorance or hesitancy could be justified early on because the Israeli apologist propaganda is so far reaching, but we're well past the point of that explaining away inaction by now. Over 100,000 people are missing and over 30,000 are known to be dead and little girls are being shot by snipers while seeking medical care while babies are left to rot in their NICU beds.

Your friends know this. Maybe not everyone in the world does, but if they're so well-read about leftist issues, your friends do. And they have chosen, for some reason, not to care. They've disconnected from the pain the Palestinian people are in, unplugged from the steady stream of upsetting information, sought comfort in a politics that says all too conveniently that nothing they do matters, and when you try to share with them how much anguish you are feeling about the mass deaths happening throughout the world, they're dismissive toward you.

Your friends suck. If acknowleding reality and confronting the horrors of a genocide is too tough and triggering for them, then a lot of horrors here at home will be too much for their fragile egos too. There are so many leftists you could be surrounding yourself with instead, I promise -- people who give back to their communities, people who are in the streets doing the tough work of feeding and housing and fighting for the release from prison of people every day, instead of using those local struggles as a shield for their inaction on a more global scale.

Fuck these people for real. This is a big glaring red flag and it will be relevant to your friendship and your life. One day many of them might see you and your problems and your human needs as too much of a distraction from their dry academic jerk-off sessions too. I've seen it a dozen times. Sorry to be so blunt. But you seem like a person who is putting their attention in all the right places and I don't want to see that compassion squandered on people who won't ever show you the same consideration. You can find people who actually walk the walk, they're everywhere.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I hope life hasn't been too terrible for y'all while I've been gone xD. While on this little vacation, I realized I have Computer Vision Syndrome (CVS). I know that sounds silly, but it actually really fucking sucks. When I write for a long period on my laptop screen (like 5 hours), I get awful eye pain, headache, migraines, blurred vision, vertigo, and nausea. I've learned different tips and tricks to help with it, so I'm doing much better. Thank y'all so much for letting me enjoy my break, and happy reading! 

P.S. Updates will still be Sun/Mon.

Chapter Warnings: 0-100 real quick but with sexism, extreme anti-bastard language, minor ableist language, panic attack.

"My blood is red and unafraid of living, beginning to end.

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too,

And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime.

I'm at my highest peak.

I'm ripe, about to fall, capture me."- Liquid Smooth, Mitski.

Surprisingly, life had proceeded smoothly after your tumultuous reappearance at Kings Landing. You expected more hardships to come, but astonishingly, they had yet to arrive.

However, becoming used to Aegon's advances took time. Following like a lost puppy everywhere you went, never far from his beloved little Princess. Much to your chagrin, people began to group you and the wastrel prince as a pair. Where one was, the other was sure to be.

Queen Alicent had dubbed you Aegon's keeper, ensuring he was not frequenting the Silk Streets and gambling houses as he once did. Playing the role of the Prince's Mother wasn't enjoyable at first, but you understood how much of an advantage this was, and a part of you grew to like it. It was the only sturdy aspect in your life, comforting and tending to Aegon's needs like a nursemaid, and should questions arise from your frequent sightings within the eldest son's apartments, the Queen herself would explain the rumors away.

Alicent prayed to the Seven that providing close contact with Aegon would convince you to see her reasons behind the line of succession and sway you to believe them. Even if that didn't work, she still found a way to control her scoundrel of a son and keep the blanket of shame from lying upon their backs. The Queen did not worry herself about the idea that her son might attempt to corrupt you. She was sure that if Aegon tried anything, you would physically overpower him and that her son's poor, borderline misogynistic words he called flirting would not work on a sensible woman like you.

Alicent had yet to inform her father of the schemes she concocted, and Lord Otto Hightower grew wary of the Bastard Princess and the Drunken Prince's time together. He knew of your loyalty to your family and how you believed with your entire soul that destroying centuries' worth of tradition and precedent would better the realm. By putting Rhaenyra on the throne, a girl he watched grow into a woman uncaring of duty, you would somehow prove yourself better than your worth.

But that was not how things were. That was not how dynasties secured their reign for millennia.

Upon reflecting on the situation, Otto realized he couldn't separate Aegon from you, for he was permanently attached to your hip. He needed someone under his thumb that you deemed trustworthy. Perhaps a knight that you respected and felt a familiarity with?

Otto summoned Ser Arryk to his study during the moment of realization. He tasked the Kingsguardmen to become your protector in the Red Keep regarding your newly appointed status as Small Council member. Lord Hightower knew it was a lie, and he understood you would too, but was comforted by the notion that Ser Arryk would accept this task with duty, honor, and integrity and would not fail him.

Yet, Arryk's reports back to him were trivial. He gave the Hand information he already knew and, at moments, even made him doubt putting the White Cloak to the task. The only thing that sparked Otto Hightower's interest was how many letters departed from the Rookery. At one point, when the Lord was genuinely desperate, he opened a letter addressed to Dragonstone, hoping to find something, anything that would give him that edge, but was greeted with a language he didn't understand and hot embarrassment for having been caught by the newly appointed Grand Maester Orwyle after the death of his predecessor.

But it was no matter, the Hand told himself. He learned how to wait. Otto Hightower spent many years playing a game no one else knew they were in and had not failed yet, for his daughter was crowned Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, and his grandson was in line to inherit the Iron Throne. Otto Hightower had to be patient, as he always was, and everything would fall into place.

***

The eldest Prince's head rested in your lap, his violet orbs following the shapes of the white cotton clouds in the afternoon sky. You watched Princess Helaena search for bugs on the underside of leaves, quietly humming to yourself a song Rhaenyra had sung to you on many occasions.

You had just finished picnicking with him, Helaena, and her children, the tots handed to a nursemaid after little Jaehaerys fell asleep in your arms. It was a request by Aegon to his sister-wife to have them all for lunch. An idea you planted in his head that initially did not include a third person, but upon Aegon's manipulation Helaena allowed you to come—explaining something about how good you were with his son and that it would be practice for when you made the eternal sacrifice that was the act of raising children. Helaena immediately brightened at the notion of you possibly bringing more babes into the Keep and agreed immediately.

A nuzzling sensation on your stomach stole you from your contented trance, looking down to see Aegon pressing his nose into the crevice where your stomach overlapped the apex of your thighs. He continued the movements as you glanced over to Helaena, ensuring she was still distracted by the pair of mating green beetles she found.

"Aegon," you chastised, cocking a brow at the burrowing Prince. "Your wife is standing ten and five paces from us."

"And?" he prompted, nipping at the thin golden fabric of your natural waistline.

"And she could suddenly become disinterested in the pair of breeding insects and see her lord husband burying his face into the navel of another woman," you snapped, slightly curling your lip as your fingers glided over his scalp.

"Helaena would not care. She is my sister," Aegon flippantly retorted, his words muffled by your gut.

You rolled your eyes, the ring of purple shimmering in the Spring daylight and momentarily distracting Aegon. "She is your wife by law and the divine. 'Tis an insult for you to be so openly disrespectful of your ties," you answered cooly.

The Prince groaned, the noise muffled by silk and flesh as he moved his hands, swiftly palming at your breasts before he sat upright.

"Your observations are always appreciated, little one, but I believe those skills could be put to better use," he teased, giving your tits another squeeze as you stifled a squeal before separating to a proper distance.

"Rotten prince!" you whispered heatedly to Aegon, glancing at Helaena again.

He snickered in response, taking a swig of the imported strawberry mead from Drone to hide his smirk. "I seem to remember you calling me a different name last night." He gulped down the drink, releasing a satisfied exhale. "What was it again? Good boy? My sweet Prince?" He feigned forgetfulness, gazing into the blue sky with a stubby digit tapping his chin. "Oh, that's right! I remember now! 'Twas-"

You launched across the patterned blanket the servants had placed and tackled Aegon, covering his mouth with your fist as he squealed like a captured piglet. He wriggled like one as you attempted to punch his cherubic cheeks, legs straddling his torso.

Suddenly, your name was called, startling you and causing your hands to move from Aegon's body and rest your weight fully atop his waist. You feared the worst. Helaena, furious at you and storming over to have you escorted from Kings Landing for your scandalous actions, destroying your plans.

"Please, don't hurt him too badly," Helaena said, still focused on the beetles. "I am certain whatever caused this isn't worth murdering him over, but if you must..." She trailed off, turning her hand over as the emerald bug crawled across the back of it. "I have not seen anything."

It took a few blinks to realize she was jesting. Her monotone, almost dreamy voice did not indicate if she was. A hint of a smile graced Helaena's thin, peony lips, a devilish glint within your eyes as you bent your knees to attack.

"Devious women! Evil women, the lot of you!" Aegon cursed in faux protest, wrestling his arms with yours as a grin split your face.

And that was how Ser Arryk found you, straddling the eldest son of the King as you rolled over the top of each other like fighting wolves, kicking the large wicker basket to his feet on accident. He cleared his throat as he reached you, Aegon using the distraction to his advantage as he flipped you over onto your stomach, mouth centimeters away from your neck.

"Princess," Ser Arryk interrupted awkwardly. Aegon deflated against you at the sound of his voice, resting his forehead on your shoulder in defeat.

"Good afternoon Ser Cargyll," you chirped, trying to control the blush that crept across your cheeks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Arryk's gaze flickered to the protruding flesh of your bosom before swiftly averting his eyes to the blooming shrubs. He cleared his throat again, the notch bobbing as he swallowed.

"The Hand has ordered a meeting of the King's Council, your Grace. 'Tis an urgent matter," he answered, his back ramrod straight.

You sighed in acknowledgment, using your palms to arch your body and shove Aegon off, his short nails catching on the embroidered beads of your dress. He groaned in annoyance as he flopped onto the ground dramatically, reminding you of Jaehaerys during one of his tantrums.

Righting yourself, you smoothed the golden fabric of your gown, which Helaena commissioned for you as a Maiden Day gift and finally felt appropriate enough to wear. You nodded at the Kingsguardmen, walking a few paces before turning to face Helaena and Aegon, the latter pouting like the spoiled boy he was.

"I apologize that our picnic must be shortened, my Prince and Princess. I'm sure we could meet for supper if that is feasible," you offered with a tilt of your head.

Helaena nodded, strolling over to her sulking brother as she nudged him with her slippered foot.

Arryk observed the interaction as he waited, his eyes trailing to places of sin. The way your flowing silk dress hugged your skin, the white pearls on the neckline complimenting your intricately styled ebony hair. Bronze beads were sewn on the gold fabric in a way that reminded him of a weeping willow, the same little balls threaded into your thin sleeves in a swirling pattern. His gaze danced over your curves next, your hips, waist, arse, anything he could see before you faced him once more, a brilliant smile on your lips.

Shame ran hot through his veins as he made contact with Aegon, his eyes dark and stare piercing. Arryk had only seen looks like that from men set to battle, hardening themselves for imminent slaughter. He knew of the Prince's quick anger, a secondhand source of it from his brother. Whatever Aegon was thinking, or more so planning, Ser Arryk didn't want to be a victim of.

He quickly turned, making his way towards an entrance of the Keep without regarding the sole reason he came. You watched Ser Cargyll's retreating form, throwing a perplexed look at Helaena and Aegon before following him, the string of pearls around your waist swaying with the movement.

Once you both were far enough away from the Godswood, you stood in Arryk's pathway, hands on your hips.

"Why did you leave so abruptly? 'Tis hardly proper as a member of the Kingsguard to turn your back on his kin," you interrogated.

"My apologies, Princess," Arryk bowed, muscles tense.

Your face soured, cringing at the emotionless sound of his voice. "None of that," you waved your hands, dismissing the subject. "Twas odd, is all. I've never seen you act in such a way before. It concerns me." You paused, pursing your lips as you glanced at the cracked red stone floors, moving closer to him. "Did Lord Hightower inform you why the meeting was called? Is that the reason for your callousness?"

Ser Arryk swallowed the lump in his throat that formed while watching your concerned face scrunch, the violet in your eyes becoming larger as your pupils shrunk in the daylight. He couldn't answer your questions truthfully without knowing your relationship with Aegon, redirecting the conversation to something more comfortable.

"I am unaware of the reason," Arryk answered instead, his posture still tense as he spoke. "It's rather unusual for the Hand to do this, no?" He noted the brief scowl that pulled your mouth, tucking your lips in to nibble at them.

"Yes. You are correct, Ser Cargyll," you nodded, pivoting on the balls of your feet as you proceeded with your journey. "It unnerves me greatly if you do not mind me speaking freely." You glanced at him in your peripherals. He encouraged you to continue, following a respectable distance. "The last time something like this happened, Grand Maester Mellos passed, and Mother encouraged me to have her Maester put forth. 'Twas humiliating when Lord Hightower said it was the Citadel's decision, not the King's."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the memory, shame, and regret burning your ears to this day. Ser Arryk chuckled at your recollection and, without thinking better of it, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as a friend or companion would. He recoiled faster than a striking snake once he realized, clenching his fist behind his back in abashment.

You peered at him curiously with a raised brow, assessing the situation. The knight had forgotten himself, acting more of an acquaintance than a protector. Some of you wanted to dismiss what happened and brush it off as a mistake anyone would make when spending nearly every waking moment with someone. Still, the other more intellectual side saw the opportunity that had just presented itself, and who were you to ignore it?

In your hopes that it was amicable, a grin crossed your face, hooking your opulent arm with his armored one, encouraging him to keep walking and that you weren't offended by his actions. You continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, explaining to him more times that you made a fool of yourself during court and your anxiety with the impending Lords you were about to face. Arryk listened intently, offering consoling words each time you finished, eventually loosening his flexed muscles. Once you were a few paces away from the Council Chambers, you parted from Ser Cargyll with a polite smile, asking him to wait outside the doors until the meeting was done. He, of course, agreed, finding a spot alongside the wall as you entered.

Insecurity flipped your stomach as the few Lords stared at you, each of their expressions one of shock. You gazed back at them, unsure of the reason for their behavior, as your nails dug crescents into your blanched palms. Alicent was the only person with a neutral look, hiding the faint smile on her plush lips between her hands as she sat in the high-backed chair at the end of the long table.

Lord Tyland Lannister smirked as you signaled Aemond to pour a glass of wine, needing the courage the firewater brought. You followed the direction of his eyes, realizing they were on your outfit, glancing between the pearl dragon earrings and necklace to the shimmering gold of your gown. You understood it was something you would have never chosen yourself, more comfortable in your red and dark day-to-day palette, but it was a gift from a princess, and you weren't expecting an impromptu meeting. It would be best if you had changed before attending, you nervously thought.

Lord Beesbury was the last member to join, rushing in with a flurry of robes and parchment, the scrolls tumbling out of his arms. You rose to help him and gathered the fallen documents, ignoring the impatient groans of the men above you. Lord Laymen gave you a grateful smile, dropping the scrolls in a pile on the oak table before seating himself.

Otto Hightower broke the thick silence with a sigh and clap of his hands.

"I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, but I have news regarding aid to the Stepstones," he announced uncharacteristically cheery. "We have received the shipments requested earlier than initially thought, and our Master of Coin's secretary has counted everything himself."

You couldn't hide the annoyed tick of your jaw for not knowing this news first. Lord Laymen was told to come to you regarding when the imports arrived. He was the Master of Coin, and a portion of his duties lay in the imports and exports of Kings Landing. You felt a sense of betrayal at the man, your usual cordial look towards him replaced with an icy one.

"This is wonderful news," Lord Lannister replied boisterously, a smile hidden underneath his beard. "Mayhaps we'll finally be done with this Triarchy nonsense, and Lord Corlys will prevail." The Master of Ships raised his half-empty cup, everyone except for you mimicking his actions. "A toast," he hollered, looking at everyone at the rectangular table as you swiftly lifted your drink to match them, "to the Bastard Princess for finally ending this Gods forsaken war."

"Hear, hear," rang out in the room from all the men, only the two women posing across each other, keeping their mouths shut. You downed the entire contents of the blood-orange wine in one go, swallowing the biting insult that threatened to spill from your mouth at the namesake.

"Thank you, my Lord Tyland, but we shouldn't partake in any victory celebrations yet," you said, false appreciation in your tone. "I would like to see the shipments myself if that is all right with you, Lord Beesbury? 'Tis not that I don't trust your secretary; this project is something dear to me, and I would feel at peace if I were there to ensure it in person."

The older Lord nodded almost ludicrously, "Of course, Princess. We shan't proceed without your approval."

Tossing a saccharine smile to the gentleman under your dark lashes as Lord Jasper chimed in. "Princess, I would like to accompany you in the process. As the Master of Laws, I must ensure they have the required documentation to sail to Dragonstone. We have increased our naval patrol over Blackwater Bay, and I would hate for the goods to be confiscated. If they were, it would be out of my hands then."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Lord Wylde, unable to hide the look of disbelief on your face. It felt like an unnecessary request of Lord Jasper, and it insulted you to have him think he could get away with it. "They got here fine, did they not? Refrain from troubling yourself with such trivial tasks. I would be surprised if those men could even read," you quipped, forgetting the courtly tone excepted of you.

Suddenly, the room went noiseless, the joyful feeling replaced with something else.

"Many would say the same about a woman like yourself—a bastard from the slums of Flea Bottom sitting on the King's Small Council. Most people would think you suited elsewhere," Ser Jasper sneered, slighted by your remarks.

Your face grew scalding, your hands balling into fists on your lap. You couldn't contain the following words, the inherited rage from the Rouge Prince boiling to the surface. "Why? Are you looking for another wife? Gods rest her soul."

Gasps filled the room. Everyone, even the One-Eyed Prince, was stunned at the venom that had just spewed from your lips. It had only been a month since the passing of Lord Jasper's wife, not yet through the mourning period. You wanted to take it back as soon as you sounded it. Not because of how vile it was but because it cracked the mask of righteousness you wore with pride, showing how much you were truly like your reckless father—the man who slaughtered the innocents of Flea Bottom over a decade ago.

"It would fit you better," he snapped, "wailing in pain while you served the only purpose a woman like you is good for."

You shot out from your chair, nostrils flaring and lifting your skirt before thinking better of it in an endeavor to unsheath your dagger.

"Enough!" The Queen shouted, stopping you from doing something you wouldn't survive to regret. "The Princess shall survey the shipments without company. This meeting is finished."

Each member left the chambers like frightened deer; even the Hand himself left in such a hurry that it shocked Queen Alicent herself. You could feel their lingering stares as they went, putting your cutlass back in its proper place before flickering your glare to the only occupants still brave enough to stay. Aemond stared at you with regard of what could only be interpreted as amazement, his one purple eye wide and bow lips parted like a suffocating fish would—Alicent, still seated, staring at her raw cuticles, a shadow cast over her heart-shaped face from her forearms.

You left with a succinct curtsy and newfound gratefulness for the Queen, pushing the hair that had fallen over your shoulders behind you and meeting the bewildered gaze of Ser Arryk. He would undoubtedly heard the loud screech of your chair as you nearly pounced on Ser Jasper Wylde, and you could see the concern etched in the fine lines of his skin. You disregarded his outstretched hand that wishfully asks to link arms again, the skirt of your dress nearly causing you to trip from your brisk pace. Arryk swallowed the bitter discomfort that formed in his throat at the denial and caught up to you with haste.

"Your Grace, are you well?" The knight oppugned.

"Quite well. Thank you, Ser Cargyll," you gagged, swatting away a strand of hair that blew into your mouth. Arryk's armor clanked with his swift gait, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Are you sure, my Lady? I heard a commotion moments before the meeting adjourned," he prodded, hoping you would answer his unasked question.

"I tripped Lord Larys, and he fell into his chair, finally putting the poor cripple out of his misery," you snarled, unsure of your destination as you continued moving. "Is that what you want me to say, hmm?" You stopped abruptly, whipping your body around to face him. "That the wildling bastard Aegon Targaryen found in Flea Bottom is an eel like everyone else? Mayhaps I should go back and live amongst my fellow leeches."

Ser Arryk stared at you in stunned confusion, shock, and befuddlement about where your frustrations and sudden outburst originated.

"Princess-" He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, lips curling and uncurling as he tried to find the proper expressions. Arryk finally gave up, his cerulean stares closing as he straightened his posture, becoming the impersonal Kingsguard he trained to be.

Even in your rage, Arryk still found you beautiful. Your inklike mane was braided skillfully in a half up half down style, golden pearl pins framing the soft features of your countenance. Immediately he buried the thought, a blush dusting across his pale cheeks. He desired desperately that moment he had his helmet covering the pink. You soughed, realizing your anger was misplaced, and crossed your arms, the bronze beads of your dress catching one another.

Before you could apologize, you caught a blur of green in the distance, the Queen Consort walking purposefully towards you, a firm yet serene expression on her soft face. The knight took note of your gaze, no longer on him, and turned, his posture impossibly more tense than before.

You both bowed in unison as she halted, dismissing Ser Arryk with the wave of her emerald and peridot jeweled fingers. Eyeing her curiously, you fell beside her, assuming she wanted to talk privately. Queen Alicent hushed as you trekked the long winding hallways of the Keep, waiting for the palace's inhabitants to thin before speaking.

"Twas unbecoming of Lord Wylde to speak in such a manner. I want to apologize on his behalf Princess," she said, causing your stomach to tighten.

The Queen never apologized; not once could you recall a moment where she indeed had. High-borns never sought remorse for their actions from those beneath them. They believed themselves above such things, especially a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You were just a princess, not even in line for the Iron Throne should something tragic happen to the people before you, and yet Alicent was seeking forgiveness. Not even for her actions!

"I believe your apology is unwarranted; you've done nothing wrong. I should hear this from Lord Jasper and not you, my Queen," you replied, flicking a brown and purple eye at her.

Alicent clasped her hands together, a position they seemed never to leave as she nodded grimly. "Yes, I agree, but he would never wound his pride like that. 'Tis the only thing men like him have."

You couldn't hide your disbelief, trying not to bring attention to your reaction lest she decide to rescind this brief moment of peace between you. While her mocking slightly disarmed your caution, you still trod carefully, not adding anything to what you thought of "men like Lord Jasper Wylde." When Queen Alicent saw you would not further her chaffing, she quieted, the delicate grin on her plush lips fleeting.

"It was sad, what he said," Alicent continued thoughtfully, "about your lineage." You glanced at her from the corners of your eyes, not indicating your thoughts. "It's unfair that you're the only bastard who receives nothing."

You quizzically raised a manicured brow at her, willing your mouth not to scowl. "How so?"

"Your adopted brothers. It is no secret that their father is not who Rhaenyra claims to be." You didn't hide the distaste from your look, ceasing your pace alongside her.

"Careful where you tread, my Queen. Some might think what you're implying is treasonous."

Her nude lips pouted, her aureate viridian earrings swaying as she followed. "I know you believe it to be true. I trust that there is comfort in numbers, I suppose. The more bastards in the House, the more likely one would be willing to accept their claim."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, continuing the direction Alicent had set, yet not knowing where it was to be.

"Truly, I do not understand where this hate of bastards comes from. Men have them more than legitiment ones; why is the Heir not held to the same standard?" you griped, ignoring the Queen's unhurried footfalls to catch up to you.

"Because men do not give their bastards titles. They are not set to inherit what their father has, just as you're not."

You stopped striding again, storming to Alicent like an orange flame emerging from a dragon's throat. "I do not need more titles or gold. My worth is not defined by a piece of parchment or coin like yours." Your chest heaved, the necklace resting upon it, glinting with each breath. "Your implications of my brothers' birth will not be so easily forgotten as the King. My Mother will hear of this, and I-"

"The same Mother who refuses to give you what her sons of equal lineage have?"

The urge to strike her was powerful, your mind a raging inferno of acrimony, anger, and a cold draft of hurt. You quickly shoved it away, focusing on the two you could feel clawing at your ribs to escape. But before you could put your emotions into words, a door opened, a short curly white-haired head peeking out.

Aegon's curious amethyst eyes flitted between you and his Mother, attempting to discern what your clenched fists and red face were about, holding a chalice in his hand. You looked back at Alicent in a mix of malice and disgust for having been so worked up that you didn't realize she had led you to her son's door. Alicent's face was schooled, her back straight and neck high, appearing the ever-regal Queen her father groomed her to be.

"Princess, come," Aegon called, his speech lightly slurred, "join me for a drink. You look like you need one."

You hid the sigh of defeat from Alicent, facing her son with a placid smile. "I do not believe it would be proper of me to join you in your chambers without a chaperone," you countered, though you desired greatly to run into his room and lose the ire of the day.

"You are family, Princess," the Queen chimed in, eager to have you distract her eldest son from drinking too heavily and inevitably embarrassing her.

You glared. She knew of Aegon's unkinship-like desire for you, yet, she was content with practically throwing you into his chambers unsupervised. Every expletive you could think of wanted to be thrown at her, but you held your tongue.

"If her Grace is all right with it," you curtsied, hatred beaming as your voice displayed the opposite. "I shall join you for a drink."

Aegon smiled joyfully, taking a swig of his chalice before opening the door wider as you entered, but not before throwing Alicent a nasty look, the Queen's face unchanging. 

You stormed over to the table in the middle of Aegon's greeting room, dragging the simple wooden chair on the stone floor as it screeched. Placing your head within your palms, you huffed, relaxing your constantly tense shoulders as the tipsy Prince sat across you.

"I wasn't lying when I said you look like you need a drink," Aegon teased, furthering his jesting with a slow sip from his cup.

Dismissing him with a shake of your head, you leaned back in your seat with your legs outstretched and face pointed to the ceiling in an unladylike position. You had already drunk an entire bottle worth of alcohol today, and it was only a handful of hours after midday, and waking up the next morn with a cotton mouth and a pounding headache did not seem like a pleasant idea.

"Perhaps I shall make you come, then, for a change." In response, you tilted your head down, your chin tucking into your chest, eyes in incredulous slits. "You always take such good care of me, little one. Let me return the favor."

You couldn't deny that the idea was appealing. It had been ages since you dove into the soothing water that was pleasure, always preoccupied with Aegon, social events, and politicking. The only moments you ever felt that insatiable need the spoiled Prince seemed to have was with him, but more important things were at hand during those moments.

Your pleasure was not a priority, only his. He was the one that needed to become smitten with you. When he finally was, you would give him a choice, stay with his little Princess under the warmth of your bossom, drinking wine and eating all the sweet cakes he could stomach, or die seated on the Iron Throne as your dragon's flames melted the swords into his flesh.

"I do not need tending to, Aegon, but your offer is much appreciated," you replied, standing as you walked toward the open balcony doors.

The air was sweet, filled with the pollination of flowers and trees, the temperature mild, not too hot, nor too cold, a light-sleeved gown sufficient. Aegon quickly followed after you, resuming a mirrored position from the table on the railing, following your gaze to the southern side of Kings Landing.

He wished so ardently for you to give in to your human desires. It had been months of you living within the Red Keep, something Aegon had prayed to the Old Gods and the New since you left him. He spent countless sleepless nights buried high within his cups and deep within women's cunts to cope with his misery, going so far as to request particular whores with the same dark hair as you to bleach a strand to match yours. Nothing worked. It was never enough, never you.

Until now.

The most you had shown Aegon of the cunny he dreamed of was a glimpse on one secret night where his Mother had been particularly cruel with her words, something or other about spending time with his children. You had comforted him with a soothing ballad of kind words and lifting your skirts. Aegon came with such a force that he thought he saw the Stranger. He finally understood why they were called little deaths, for if he had spent like that every time, he would be dead by now.

Aegon perked at your sigh, watching your dress glitter in the sunlight as you crossed your arms. You looked like you belonged to him then, adorned in the same gold and opulence he loved to wear. He imagined then what life would have been like if you became his wife and not his dreamy-eyed sister.

How many children would you have now? Would he still have the twins? 

Aegon chuckled at the thought, catching your curious stare as he quieted. No, most certainly not. He would never leave you a moment unswollen if you wed. You would have sired at least six children if your body and the Gods allowed it. Your breasts would weigh heavy on your back, and Aegon, the ever-doting husband, would heal you from that pain. He would fuck you until the babe's head dropped, and you could see its lanugo hair. He would stay by your side through every moment of your birthing despite the impropriety of it. Then, after that, Aegon would care for the wounds his child caused, dabbing at your tender womanhood and applying the ointments the Maester prescribed.

A thumping in Aegon's cock tore him from his fantasies, reeling him into the present. You unmarried and babeless, him a piss poor father for his current children and neglectful husband to his real wife. He brushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to fall into the home that was his self-loathing. You were right across from him, deep into your head. He could give it to you now, what he desired, and see how your little deaths would rake through your whole body.

"I can sense you staring," your voice struck like the water he fell into at Blackwater Bay this past winter, "and why you are doing so. You will not make me come, Aegon. I've no want for it."

"Is that a challenge, little one," he teased, pushing off the red stone banister and sauntering towards you.

"No," you answered, facing him with a steeled expression. "It's a command."

"Awe, but Princess, the look in your eyes says differently."

You guffawed, your brows shooting to your hairline as you tilted your head. "You must be drunk then, for you are seeing things. Come now, let's sober you up."

You signaled for him to follow as you walked back inside, only to be stopped by Aegon's deft hands. He moved you more forcefully than possible, dragging you back to your former spot and caging your legs between his.

"Aegon, be serious," you declared, attempting to move his limbs but failing. Despite his lack of training, Aegon could be relatively strong when he wanted.

"I have waited years for you to return to me. I have cried, alone at night in my chambers, praying that the Gods bring you back." You watched him with a look of surprise and sympathy, reaching your arm out to stroke his cheek, something you knew disarmed him, but he swiftly snatched it. "But they did not answer. Now, I have you, and I shall never let you leave."

Aegon's lips crashed against yours without warning, his pink tongue making its way to tangle with yours. You were frozen at the sudden foreign sensation, leaving your jaw to hang loosely open before he shoved a knee betwixt your thighs. The beads of your dress created harsh pinpricks of pleasure on your pearl, causing your mouth to open and your body to slacken, Aegon deepening the kiss instinctually. Your back arched over the stone railing, the Prince's hold being the only thing to keep you from tumbling to your death, digging your fingers into the fabric of his doublet for leverage. If you were to fall, you would ensure the unspoken heir would do so with you.

Aegon's mouth left yours, taking the chance to regain both your breaths before he dove back in, sucking and nipping at the expanse of your neck. His hands began to explore downward on your body, his nails catching on the metal orbs sewn into the fabric, treading lower, lower, and lower until he bunched the fabric of your skirt in his grip.

"Aegon." You tried to sound firm, but the word became a whimper. Squirming in his grasp to leave, you only became weak, the steady placement of his knee rubbing against that sacred area, turning your muscles to mush. "Stop."

He shushed you in response, nuzzling his nose behind your ear, inhaling the welcoming smell of lavender and dragon. "It's all right, little one. I'm here. You deserve this," he cooed, snaking his palm across your navel and down to your heat.

He felt the hair there, more plentiful than when Aegon last touched it, brushing over the coarse strands before entering a finger between your lips. You cried out at the coldness of his digits against your sensitive core, trying to heat his touch before venturing further.

"You're soaked, sweet girl," he purred into your ear, nibbling at the decorated lobe. "Why do you deny yourself so? You do so much for the kingdom, for your family," Aegon paused, parting your damp lips and sliding a slick finger over your bud as warmth shot through you, "for me." Your leg hitched at his touch, moaning loudly as his pad drew circles.

"I don't-" you wept, cutting yourself off as you felt a coil in your stomach form.

"You don't what?" he mocked, pressing firmer and causing a spark of ecstasy to bolt through you. "Don't want it? No." Aegon shook his head, answering for you. "You don't deserve it? No again. You do more in a day than my wastrel father did during his entire reign."

Aegon went faster now, his finger rubbing harder than before and making you leak onto your thighs. "Don't... talk about your father," you said breathily, your head leaning on his.

You felt the vibration of his laugh in your skull, giving you a momentary peck to your jaw in apology as his other hand dropped the skirt of your gown and wrapped it around your waist to grind into his touch. Your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, the wire inside your abdomen rapidly tightening with each refined movement.

"You deserve this. You know you deserve this," Aegon repeated, using your moistness to go faster. "I want you to say it. I want you to say it when you come," he haughtily commanded, his voice thick.

His fingers were too focused, his touch too good, and you were so, so deprived of intimacy. With a few more circles, rubs, and kisses, you felt the words tumbling off your lips, the coil wound too tight as your neglected cunt soaked his fingers with appreciation.

"I deserve this!" you shouted into the cerulean sky, Aegon's digits working you through your climax. "I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this," you rambled, your body having a mind of its own.

"You do, little one," he praised. "Let them hear it. Let them know your worth."

"I deserve this," you mewled one last time, nodding your head against the side of his resting on your shoulder, looking like the many cats of the Keep marking their scent. Aegon peppered you with kisses as you inhaled gulps of air. Your legs twitched, and you struggled to stand as the aftershocks subsided, held by only the Prince's strength.

It was impossible to think clearly, to fully grasp what had happened. The months, perhaps even years of negligence you spent with self-pleasure, finally coming to a rearing head, clouding your mind. The consequences of your actions failed you. Your only thoughts of how Aegon slowly dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt higher as he looked up with a mischievous yet admirable look in his violet eyes, his mouth latching onto your puffy cunt with a grin.

"One more," he murmured, his moist breath tickling, "I just need one more."

***

Aegon had lied. He did not only pry one more climax from you but three in total. Once on the terrace, back draped over the railing, your hair hanging over the ledge. The second time underneath the caring disguise of wiping away the slick from your core, only to be met with his middle and ring finger inside your tight velvet walls, and finally, the third, with a combination of his tongue and digits.

You knew you shouldn't have trusted the boy. Aegon was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for having an appetite that no amount of whores, food, or wine could satisfy. You didn't realize it extended to another's pleasure also. Your bones were made of the Apple Muse you adored by the end, your muscles so weak from the rapid tensing and untensing as he ripped those little deaths from you. 

When all was said and done, the whore of a Prince took great care of you, ensuring your throbbing cunny was clean from both your fluids, and servants brought a pitcher of water.

You were drifting asleep, an action you knew was unwise to do with Aegon around. The possibility of waking with the intrusion of his cock inside your wall was at the forefront of your mind. That fear was the only thing that kept you from drifting off when your body all but screamed for it. You took to speaking with him to distract yourself from rest, reminding him with mumbles that you promised Helaena that you would dine with her tonight. Aegon would have to play the husband's role again and see his children.

It was always difficult to return to Helaena knowing what you had done with him but not the guilt an adulteress would have. Yours was different. Shame that you were playing a game with her husband, knowingly partaking in these acts of scandal towards a goal and not for the pleasure of it. You did not know which was worse.

You were sure that Helaena would not be upset for your actions as a typical Lady Wife would, for she didn't love him like one. You supposed she would be grateful for what you were doing, keeping him away from the Silk Streets, gambling houses, and fighting pits. Ensuring there were no more bastards than there already were running around in Kings Landing. Well, that was what you convinced yourself, at least so you could look at the People's Princess without your sins written across your face.

The timber of Aegon's voice tickled your ear, snapping open your eyes that you didn't realize were closed. "I had the maids tell Helaena that we shall dine in my rooms tonight," he chuckled to himself, pecking you on the cheek with a grin, "since you are in no shape to make the journey to her's."

You nodded, unable to protest, and pushed yourself against the headboard to make yourself more alert. Aegon scooted into place beside you, resting his head on your shoulder while he played with the rings on your fingers. 

You still couldn't process what happened; disappointment was the only thing you could feel. The heavy-weighing claws of it tugging on your heart and dragging it into a bottomless dark pit, constantly carrying, pulling, weighing down on you until you felt the searing pricks of tears in your eyes. 

You had let yourself down and succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh that had ruined so many great men in history. You promised to focus only on Aegon and his desires, and wrongfully, you thought it would be easy. You had anticipated that the Prince was like all other men with sex, only seeking their release, and hadn't planned for him to seek yours out. By all accounts, Aegon had been just that. 

This was the first moment he had wanted you to reach ecstasy during your entire stay. The most Aegon ever begged for was a glimpse of your tits and cunny, working himself in his own hands during the process. Where had the sudden urge to pleasure you emerge from? 

Perhaps the plan was going better than you thought. It's only natural for a man to desire a woman's warm embrace eventually. Still, you hadn't realized it would come at the unreciprocating hands of Aegon the Drunk and only for him not to want something in return. You had long ago made peace with the fact that you would endure the tearing of your maidenhead by him and expected nothing more to bear but this... Aegon had opened something locked tightly inside of you, and your mind could not understand it, so it found the only thing it did: hatred. Not hatred towards the eldest Prince but toward yourself. 

You loathed yourself for what you did, what you allowed. You would understand the reasonings behind the act if it was only once, but you had allowed Aegon to take, take, take from you, willingly, knowing your morals. It was your fault for what happened. There was no one to blame but yourself. 

You searched desperately for anything to justify what happened. Did it bring the unsung heir closer to you? No. You would've had the same results if you had just let him rape you. It further helped make Aegon realize he wanted to be with you more than having riches? No. The climax after edging him ten times would make him learn that. What was the justification? 

You hadn't realized your chest began to pant, alarming the Prince beside you to look over in concern. You felt sick at the sight. His perfectly chiseled marble face staring at you with his amethyst eyes twinkling with rising worry, and you rolled off the bed, stumbling. Your body shook, shoulders tensed to your ears as your fists trembled, pacing aimlessly across his room. Succinct gasps left your quivering lips, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. 

Aegon watched with horror as you ran back and forth across the length of his bed chambers like a caged animal. He had no idea what to do, trying to call out to get your attention but receiving no response. Your hands go to your ears, trying to block out the sounds of a near-silent room as you hiccup. 

Suddenly, the ground beneath Aegon shuddered with a bone-rattling shake, quickly glancing down and then up to see the dust from his ceiling falling to the floor. An ear-bursting roar boomed through the entirety of King's Landing, causing the filled cups of his room to vibrate in their place. He felt the stone floor shake again with the moving of the dragon's footsteps, no doubt belonging to Cannibal. 

Aegon ran to you swiftly at your dragon's second room, seeing the edge of orange flames and smoke rising in the sky from his opened balcony doors. He knew of the bond a rider and their mount possessed, having witnessed it with his own Sunfyre when he too was upset, but never at this length. Cannibal was wild and still barely tamed, unaware of the social norms humans had that the others of his species understood. More roars sounded, but softer this time, as if they were in the distance. Aegon ignored them, focusing on trying to pry your digits that had wound themselves into your braided hair, your scalp blanched and roots nearly showing. 

He said your name first, attempting to gather your attention from where it had run off, but that didn't work. Nothing worked. No amount of cooing and soothing, as one would do to a child, made it past your deaf ears. Aegon began to narrowly mirror your panic, his eyes wide as he searched desperately to find a way to calm you down. He had never seen you in such a state, nor anyone else for the matter, and felt the sting of tears gather in his eyes. 

"Please, speak to me," he beseeched, voice thick with fear. "I've no clue how to help you." 

Your pacing ceased when your slippered foot caught on the misplaced leg of a stool, falling to the ground with a strangled yelp that Cannibal seemed to mimic. Aegon took this time to fall onto the floor next to you, gathering you into his arms as you flailed and booted like a lamb stolen from its Mother. Before he could think better of it, Aegon slapped his hand over your mouth, recalling how he saw a stableboy do that with a spooked colt. 

You squirmed and wriggled like a wounded rabbit caught in a snare, screaming like one into his palm as your blunt nails scratched across his cheek. Aegon ignored the stinging, using every ounce of strength he accumulated from training, brawling, and fucking to hold you down, nearly escaping him twice before he laid you underneath him, arm wrapped around your stomach on the icy stone floor. He pinned you there until your struggling ceased, the rapid flaring of your nostrils coming to a halt. 

When Cannibal's midnight wings flapped in the air, Aegon knew you were calm, feeling secure enough to release you with the gentle draw of his hands. He let you rest there for what felt like ages, scrutinizing every involuntary twitch of your muscles lest he have to repeat himself. The call of Arbor Red was firm in his veins, but he disregarded it, shuffling until his back hit something to rest on. 

The first words out of your mouth were not what he expected, sounding so small and defeated, causing him to pause before he understood briefly. "I must fix my hair before Princess Helaena arrives. Do you have a brush?"

Aegon silently nodded before he realized you could not see him, your cheek still pressed into the floor and facing away. "Yes," he answered aloud, bumbling over to his rarely used oak vanity. 

He handed the silver brush as you sat upright and took apart your maids' handy work, fixing the style into something more straightforward and placing the pearl pins accordingly. Aegon observed with caution, keeping at least ten paces from you as if you were a rabid beast. You didn't fault him for it, nor dislike it, simply too numb to feel. 

"Is it all right?" You startled Aegon, him taking a moment to realize that you were speaking. 

"Of course," he nodded eagerly though you couldn't see, and you hummed in assent. 

"The servants should be near done setting the table. We should wait for Helaena and the children there," you stated blandly, rising from your kneeled position and smoothing your dress. 

Aegon agreed noiselessly, leading you to his solar as cautiously as he could, watching for any sign that he might lose you again, but there weren't any. Ony the cold countenance of apathy that he had only seen once before when staring at the severed head of your kin. The expression haunted him to this day, guilt rising in his throat like the burning feeling of acid, taking an armchair a respectable distance away. 

Masterlist of Series

Once again, I'd like to thank you for your patience during my break. I lived in my George R. R. Martin era, but don't worry; this series won't take 27+ years to finish XD. For some reason, this post won't let me upload my full taglist, so I did it as a reblog in case you wondered why it's different. According to my idea chart, we're a little under halfway through the story, but honestly, it doesn't even feel like it. There are so many things ahead. It's just mind-boggling. Like, there's one point where shit hits the fan, and it's like, "whaaaat". I want to spoil it because it's crazy, but I shall keep my lips sealed. Anyway, thank you so much for reading this chapter and continuing this journey with me!!

Also, did you like my Miss Congeniality reference hidden in there? XD

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