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aaaaaaaaagenloser · 5 months

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(Tw: kinda transphobia? Use of it/its for a character who hasn’t declared what their pronouns are yet. Arguments over whether a character is a person or not; that ties into the pronoun thing here. Bonus points for descriptions of canon-typical gore yipeeee)

An update from after writing this: oh this. Got. This one got away from me?? I think I started this at 4 minutes past the hour. It is now 43 minutes past the hour. shitt.

Update; it is now 17 minutes after the NEXT hour. 26 minutes after th last update. I have seen god in the past hour and she shook in fear of both my power and audacity. I have lunch with my family scheduled in like 6 hours and I have not yet slept. This wasn’t meant to be as long as it is but I was possessed and this is the result. I may edit it and make it smoother later but I’ll make that a separate post, I want this sleep-deprived chunk of words to be here as like a monument to the fact that I could have been playing stardew valley during this time but I chose to do this instead

TLDR: long ass story ahead written by a sleep-deprived and hyperfixation-driven author. Who is now going the fuck to BED

“We can’t just keep it! What if it has a tracking device? It won’t let us fucking touch it so there’s no way of knowing it has one unless it leads them right to us!”

“Ok, I hear you but think. That hasn’t happened yet. It’s been about what, three days? and that hasn’t happened, and they haven’t been violent towards any of us at all. They haven’t tried to go back either, so there’s no risk of them telling or leading Showfall where we are.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘they’?”

“Well they can’t be an “it” now can it? …wait.”

“Ok can we figure out the gender of the thing in the other room after we figure out if it’s a threat to us or not. It’s not even a fucking person, you remember what those things did to you back there, don’t you?”

“Those people were not themselves, they were just doing what he wanted them to do—“

“They’re not fucking people! Those things are all part of Showfall, just like Hetch was! It’s just waiting for the right time to turn us in, or pull some shit on one of us like they did before.”

“They weren’t… they weren’t in control.”

“Yeah like fuck they weren’t, I saw it fucking happen!”

“You can’t just… Ok. Sneeg. Stop. You don’t speak for me, the one who, oh I don’t know, was the one that shit happened to? They were being controlled just like us—“

“No, no, not like us. We were wandering around and not knowing what the fuck was happening. None of us knew what was happening. We just went along blindly. Those things—on purpose—dragged you to that stupid wall and sewed wires into your hands—“

“Shut up, Sneeg—“

“No you shut up! You didn’t see it fucking happen! I saw them and Bitchface literally hold you down until you passed out! They were fucking choking you, they fucking—they nearly fucking killed you with just their hands, that’s not a little suggestion in the back of your brain, that’s on purpose! That is fucking deliberate, that is a thing those machines chose to do! You don’t remember, you weren’t conscious when they fucking stapled you to the wall and strapped your head in—“

Sneeg glanced at Ranboo for a moment in-between pacing as he ranted, and the far away look in their sibling’s eyes shut them up immediately. Ranboo was still present, thank fuck, but they were looking at their brother like he was holding up a knife to their throat.

“Fuck, Ran, okay, okay—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… shit. Do you need Charlie?”

“You don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

“…okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Do you need me to get Charlie?”

“No, I’m fucking fine.” It did not sound like he meant that at all. His voice was less steady than before. “I don’t want him to worry about our… hitchhiker. He’s worrying enough about… well, everything.”

“The fact that it’s here, so close to us is the reason I’m trying to get you to see, Ran. What if it turns on him? What if it does that shit to him when we aren’t there?”

“We will be there.”

“And when it tries anything, we can kill it?”

“Sneeg!”

“You wouldn’t kill it, even if it hurt our fucking brother?”

“Of course we wouldn’t keep them around if they did that, could we at least just… just leave it behind? …wait, no, they couldn’t take care of themselves. If we had to leave it behind, maybe we should…”

Silence lingered for a bit too long.

“We should what, Ran?”

“…Sneeg, I was about to say that killing it would be a mercy.” The Hero laughed. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

The Taken didn’t reply.

“We have to help them. I don’t… I don’t want to be on the other end of a mercy killing. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Okay. I’m—are you okay?”

“…m fine. It’s fine. Just. Can you stop acting like they’re any different from us? Please.”

“What do you want me to think then?” His voice was softer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Just assume that they… that they were someone. Just like we were before. And they didn’t… they didn’t do anything on their own, it was all Showfall.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s assume they were controlled, they didn’t mean to, so on and so forth. Why haven’t they talked yet.”

“I don’t think any of the drones even could talk. Wait, should we really be calling them a drone—“

“Shut the fuck up, Ranboo, we have got to figure out what to do with it. It probably doesn’t even know what is happening, what the fuck does it matter what we call it.”

“It matters to me! Do you want me to call you by your title? Do you want to call me by mine? …No? Then why are we treating them like all they are is what Showfall made them? We had lives before, we were someone, so they must have been too. They might not realize it, or… or act like it, but they used to be someone. They are a whole person, Sneeg. We have to help them, we can’t just leave them behind because that would mean we are giving up on someone just like us, and we cannot give up on each other. They… they would have hurt us by now if they were going to. And Showfall hasn’t found us since… you know, which means there aren’t any more trackers.

…okay, Sneeg?”

“…okay. If it,” he sighed at the look Ran gave them, “if they try anything, we have to leave them behind. I’m not letting a dumbass puppet be the reason we get taken back.”

“If they—ok, whatever, you’re not understanding. You can’t say one of us somehow wanted to be controlled, and they’re a ‘puppet’ but those rules don’t apply to the rest of us—“

“There is not an ‘us,’ Ran! That thing isn’t like us!”

“Guys?”

A sleepy voice shut the two of them up instantly. They had a split-second conversation with their eyes before looking to their brother. ‘We aren’t done talking about this’ ‘You’e absolutely right, so later?’ ‘Later.’ ‘We’re telling Charlie nothing happened?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Ok good plan.’

“Why are you two fighting? I’m tired, can we please go back to sleep?”

“We weren’t fighting, we were…”

“…talking about plans for tomorrow. And you can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.” Charlie looked at Sneeg pointedly, who sighed to Ranboo with a playfully annoyed expression.

“Well I guess I gotta go be a teddy bear again.”

“Have fun”

“Absolutely not.”

Charlie punched Sneeg in the shoulder lightly for that, who just giggled in response and led his little brother back to their room.

Which left Ran by themselves.

Some nights, he would join them, but some nights Charlie couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ran, and the three of them had made a silent mutual agreement that Charlie trusted Sneeg more than he did Ranboo.

…Ranboo was okay with this. He wasn’t hurt by it. He didn’t cry on the nights he slept by himself.

He didn’t wish he could be the one Sneeg comforted sometimes. They were just fine.

They were fine, which is why they went to the living room where their… well. Their hitchhiker? They weren’t exactly a brother, or a sibling, more like a fourth wheel on a tricycle. Or a flyaway hair. Okay, maybe Ranboo needed to get tbr fuck to sleep, alone or not.

But he found himself in the living room, where their hitchhiker slept. Or, didn’t sleep, as they seemed to not need to. They would sit on the couch and stare idly at the tv. That was what had started the whole conversation with Sneeg in the first place; Ran wanted to leave some kind of entertainment for the fourth person so they wouldn’t be made to sit in the dark for hours. Sneeg took this remark as a perfect opportunity to explain all the reasons why the former drone should be abandoned, but Ranboo would have fucking none of it. Maybe the couch potato (shit, he really needed to come up with a name for them—) didn’t seem to sleep, barely ate, and stayed still unless actually verbally told to move, but they were still a person. Ranboo was sure of it.

Their hand wandered up to the fresh scabs where their mask had been. The fourth person had a mask, one that hadn’t been touched. Despite usually staying still, the person—(Ranboo thinks they might just call this person Couch for now. Maybe it’s not accurate, and they’re tired, but it’s something. C, for short.)

C would back away any time the others would try to get near them. And they did in fact try, but despite how creative or sneaky they got, C always ducked away. It reminded Ranboo of the drone who had followed them with a camera, always one step away and never letting the Hero get too close.

The mask turned to Ranboo, who stared back quietly. C hadn’t talked at all, so Ranboo didn’t expect them to suddenly start now. He wasn’t even sure if they understood what was said to them, but Ranboo wanted to try anyways. Better to be polite.

“Do you like the show that’s on? I think it’s called Lucy, or something. I don’t know, Sneeg said it was funny. And it didn’t seem, uh- scary or anything.”

The mask didn’t speak.

“If you want to change it, the remote’s right there, um, I showed you how to use it before. And there’s like, instructions drawn on there. You can thank Charlie for that one.”

…

“I think I’m going to head to bed.”

…

“Fuck it, can I stay here?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but the head hidden behind it tilted a bit at the sudden change in tone. Ranboo took this as an absolute win.

“So I just. I don’t want to be by myself. And I don’t think you sleep, I mean if you just sleep when everyone else is asleep that’s cool, but also if so how do you even? function? on that much sleep? It really isn’t that much but to be fair you don’t do much so maybe you don’t need it. …do you sleep sitting up? And just somehow wake up when we get close? I know, um. Sorry about that, again, we were just worried your mask had a tracker like mine used to.”

Ran laughed nervously. “I think I did convince them that it doesn’t, so that should stop now. If um. If we make you uncomfortable you still don’t have to be touched, it’s, it’s fine.”

Other than the head tilt before, there wasn’t a reply.

“Okay, since. You can’t talk, I’m just gonna… I’ll sit down beside you. On the couch. And if you don’t want me to be that close you can uh- you can leave. Or like, get up, and then I’ll leave. This is the only room with a tv, so I’ll let you stay here, but I can’t tell if you want me to be here or not, so. Okay, sorry, I’m rambling. Just… move if you want me to leave, okay?”

Ranboo waited for a response that didn’t come, then sighed. “Okay.” He kept his hands up and open while sitting down, waiting for a few moments before tucking his feet under himself to get more comfortable. “I’m just gonna stay here, okay? Like I said, just move if you want me to leave.”

The mask had tracked them to where they sat now, but the person—C—didn’t make a move to leave. Ranboo turned their attention to the tv, keeping an eye on their couch partner in their peripheral vision. During a moment of audience laughter in the show—I Love Lucy, they remembered—C turned their head back to the television as they had been before Ranboo walked in.

Seeing as how C (they needed a better name than that—) didn’t speak, this was the closest Ranboo could get to being told “you can stay here.” So they did. A few episodes later, his head was on the arm of the couch and his eyes were closed.

Five turned its attention to the Hero, who was now asleep. He had said it was a person, which was almost hilarious. And the Taken and the Hero seemed to think it couldn’t talk? They had to know it needed to be given permission first: any handler of a Drone or Prop knew that basic rule. It would wait until permission was given: it knew how to obey. It wasn’t meant to speak to a superior unless it was told it was allowed. It would wait.

…in the meantime, it studied its handler, the Hero. The other Actors, their two other handlers, called him ‘Ranboo’ but Five knew that wasn’t his actual label. The Hero was his character in the last show, and so that is who he was. Five didn’t know if Actors had a number, but he had been called the Hero in the script, and so the Hero he will be until the script changes.

It hoped to get new instructions, a new script for itself, something, soon. It was tired of simply watching the Actors go about their incredibly off-script show. It was sometimes told to participate, and since no other superiors were nearby, it had to obey its current handlers. But it was told to participate, to stir eggs, to help clean the kitchen, to attack small webs in corners with a stick with soft spikes on the end. Those sorts of things weren’t it’s usual directive, and so it found itself…

It didn’t resent its handlers. They were doing their best, and they at least knew that they were meant to give it orders. It simply wished they were familiar orders. It wished the Hero had told it to play dead, or play chase, or play camera, or caught, or prop. It would even listen if it was told to power down until needed. At least then it wouldn’t have to be conscious in this boring and unfamiliar set.

Y EA I know they probably don’t like tvs. Shhhhhh. I didn’t think about that until like. I had already written the tv part. At this moment it is 55 minutes past th hour and I want these characters to go the fuck to sleep so I can go thr fuck to sleep /lh

And yeah Five only uses “he” for glran. That is intentional. It’ll be talked about and shit later. Something about being put into a role, something about showfall being transphobic, something something I want to go to bed

Powering down = “sleeping” for a drone. Different but similar. I’ll explain how it works later?, anyway The others hav e told Five to “sleep” but it doesn’t understand because it is only ever told to “power down” so it’s like error.sleep_not_found and it stares at them like “bitch you said the wrong. Thing. You’re supposed to know how to control me so you don’t want me to power down I fucking guess” and it’s gonna be really funny after that miscommunication is taken care of.

If you remember the Five Gets A Cold And Wants To Throw Hands With Everyone post, this is wayyy before that. These motherfuckers are fresh out of showfall. Don’t ask how they got a house. I’ll figure it out

I am! Tired! I’m not proofreading this!! Goodnight please give me your thoughts if you have them. I need to know I didn’t sacrifice tbis much sleep in vain /nf /lh (I appreciate words but you are Not required to give them. Love you have a good nigt/p)

#five the genloss blorbo #let’s not talk about how many tries it took me to spell unobserved. let’s simplynot #update like 5 years into me writing this: i also cannot spell the word peepohe it would seem #that. that was meant to be the word People. you can see m #h my point stands #it is late as fuck yet I Have to make this. it has to exist so I must make it exist #I’m hamilton writing like I’m running out of time but I’m writing g #writing 51 essays in which assorted characters get the physical and/or emotional shit beaten out of them #and me running out of time is running out of sleepy. I am a sleep y man #take a break and get away says my pillow. I am Hamilton my pillow is upstate and this goddam mess of a short story I am trying to write is M #this story is Mariah Reyndolds leading me to her bed .#I haven’t slept in a while and I’m hyperfixationed on Hamilton so that metaphor makes. 0 sense #if you’re reading this far I’m so sorry. have a cookie! and fun fact an old lady held my hand and s #she said my (Very Androgynous!!) haircut is perfect. she used those words #i almost cried right then and there. genuine compliments from people make my fucking day . ok I need to go back to editing thisthing now #I wrote it. changed a plot point. started to rewrite it. changed ANOTHER plot point #so now I’ve got several s #several layers of Oh Shit I have to untangle #im. making my own goddam escape au apparently????? it won’t make any fucking sense but I will explain it later.#and! feel free to ask questions!’ and tell me if it make’s absolutely 0 sense #I do in fact want to be able to tell the story in a way you will understand. so ask questions! give a feedback! /gen /pos #I accidentally. deleted a tag so whatever I was going to say is fucking gone now. oh I think I memerbr #they are out of character ye. I’m sleepy and I’m making their escape au up as I go.#so far I have 1) the box scene was somehow Worse #2) they kidnapped Five (yippee!)#3) Charlie is the most traumatized out of the three. I don’t. I don’t know why.#I think that’s mostly because I didn’t feel like writing a conversation between Three characters. so my brain was like this :#why isn’t Charlie here? sleeping. why are these two not including him in conversation? protectiveness.#why protectiveness? he is the most upset out of the three of them and the other two have basically taken up the caretaker role. great plan #great plan hit the showers. I have reached. max tags. shit oh well back to writing tumblr says so!

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gromlyn · 9 days

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ben won’t be back until next sunday god (his mom) is cruel

#personal vent #i am going thru all 5 stages of grief all at once #she told us 5 days and NOW ITS 9????#and I DO NOT trust her to not extend it further! she wanted to keep him till may 5! WE ARE ADULTS WITH A LIFE FOR CHRISTS SAKE #my kind of autism/cptsd hellbrain makes this literally the most enraging thing that could happen #you know those captive cheetahs who have emotional support dogs? that’s me and ben #I can survive on my own but I need time to emotionally prepare #which I did not get at all this time so as a result I’m a bit of a mess #and it’s frustrating because I know he’s coming back but I don’t believe it’ll be when his mom says so idk how okay I’m gonna be this week #like I feel like I’m being ridiculous but I also know I cannot help feeling this way given my history :/#so beating myself up about feeling this way only hurts me #the best I can do is sit with the feelings and let them pass #abandonment trauma is so fun!

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bleedingoptimism · 5 months

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Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.

He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.

Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.

He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.

🎮🤲💖

Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.

'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.

He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.

He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.

🎮🤲💖

A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.

He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.

He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says,

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.

Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.

The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.

Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.

But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,

"Steve, what the fuck?"

‘Oh, shit…’

“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,

“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”

He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”

“Please, let me explain-”

“Steve-”

“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”

“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.

“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.

“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.

“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.

They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.

Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.

He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.

A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.

Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’

Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”

He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.

In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,

“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it.

He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.

But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.

It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.”

Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.

Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.

“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.

Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.

Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’

Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-

Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.”

And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.

Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”

He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”

“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

“Broken?” Steve whispers.

Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.

A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.”

𝒻𝒾𝓃

coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #i wrote something #modern au #trying out this new read more feature i hope it works!#im kidding #i do hope people click for the rest tho this goes places

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cursingtoji · 7 months

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𓆩𖥟𓆪 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑 — Geto is a thoughtful leader who uses visual resources to help his followers learn, and tonight you get to play a part. #Cult-tober.

< Part 1 - Contradiction

— cw: religious imagery but no specific religion, exhibitionism, emotional manipulation, god complex, public nudity, fingering, unprotected, oral (f -> m), sex cult behaviour. 3k words.

— note: did my research on cults for this one, also based on this request.

“Come here” you hear his voice after calling your name, the tone gives you chills.

You know better than to fear him, this is not the first time he calls you to the main room of the temple — a place that has become the closest thing you can call a home now. This room in particular is already very known to you, so why the fear? Can’t you remember the familiar feeling of the tatami under your knees? What about against your cheek? Wasn’t worth the pain of having your face rubbing on it while your master roughly thrusted into your behind? You do recall his pitiful smile when he realized what the mat had done to the soft skin of your face, right? He kissed it so tenderly while holding you like you were made of glass, a glass he didn’t mind breaking a few minutes prior to that, but now, glass.

So what’s wrong now?

Except for the dozens of followers sitting on their knees in that same room right now. How come you never saw that many people before? And more importantly, why are you seeing them now?

A few hours ago, he left you two things along with a note with the time and place you had to be. Those things are: a sheer black lace mask, very delicate fabric meant for your eyes, the type of thing you could picture a woman using in a ball in the 1800s, and a yukata, a simple one. You thought it was weird he didn’t leave an obi — the belt to tie up the yukata, so you took one from your own drawer to complete the traditional piece.

The mask is clearly not part of it, but you know better than to question him. Besides, the note is clear, you must wear nothing but those things. Nothing.

The room you thought you knew now seems strange and gloomy, it’s nighttime so there’s only a few candles lightening it up, there’s an essence burning somewhere the smell is weak but it’s there.

Geto in all his glory sits in his altar, his feet are up in the mat, unlike everyone else sitting on their legs. He has the pose of a deity and clearly that is what everyone thinks too.

Your bare feet touch the tatami, slowly approaching the altar and feeling the dozen pairs of eyes upon you, the offsetting lighting doesn't allow you to see their faces, which is probably for the best, yet Geto’s was lit up as if the sun itself rose for him and him only.

“Look at her, when I met her she was sick, this beautiful lady had a disease. I tried to look away, she was too far gone, but what did I do instead, sweet child?”

“You saved my life” you respond without batting an eye, your mind feels cloudy.

“Kneel” you obey taking place beside him.

Maybe he is a deity after all.

Just that day you were having a conversation with the twins. They had so many questions, especially after seeing you hurt by some curse, so many why’s leaving their little mouths.

“It doesn’t matter!” your voice rose for the first time since taking them in your embrace “If Geto-sama says it’s day and the sky is dark, it’s day. If he says it’s night when you can see the sun, you go to bed because you sleep when it’s night, understood?”

Sometimes you barely recognize the voice that leaves your lips. Scolding is something you never saw yourself doing, not to the girls you loved more than anything.

In your situation one would assume this behavior is driven by fear, what would Geto do if he found out your girls were questioning his actions? They cannot possibly care more about this non-sorcerer in front of them. Never.

But those people would be wrong. Fear does make you do what you do. Love does.

Only love makes you stay put in front of him when he unties your yukata, love has you looking him in the eye even while the disapproval for the presence of the obi is evident.

Geto makes you sit facing him, his stunning image much more welcoming than the unlighted audience, he’s big enough for you to understand can still see the quiet crowd behind you. His calloused hands touch your shoulders under the yukata, the soft touch is enough to warm up your entire body as he slowly revells a skin decorated by some few bruises, some caused by curses, some caused by gods, well… one god.

“She’s still not cured, I don’t know if she’ll ever be” he doesn’t have to project his voice too much in the quiet room, the hot breathing fans over your face, “But I’ll keep trying nevertheless” he says more quietly.

Geto’s hand goes between your legs and you have trouble keeping your sounds to yourself. His hand is big, and the space between your closed legs — while you’re still sitting on them — and your core is narrow, Geto has to be a little rough to get where he wants to.

And he always gets what he wants.

Your face is warm, breathing erratically but still… you’re not panicking even given the disturbing setting. It’s all due to him, if it was anyone else you would be screaming right now, fighting your way out of this.

Geto starts to stroke your folds with his fingers while talking about sins, the best thing you can do is shut your little brain from overthinking everything he says and taking it as personal.

However, what is left to do when he keeps going on and on about undeserving ones while teasing your fluttering hole? You can’t even look him in the eye, just keep staring his throat as he speaks. Your gasp interrupts him when he inserts a finger, both your hands to your mouth, you were distracted enough to forget this was obviously the next step.

Geto snaps his eyes back to you, not glad about the interruption, yet he resumes his speech so he can go on with his plans.

Your hands remain on your closed mouth, not wanting to make the same mistake again. Geto adds another finger and starts scissoring you, which worries you slightly, you thought this was merely a play for the followers, an exhibition of power, but the stretching he’s doing indicates he plans to go all the way. That and the erection under his haori, which you should’ve led you to suspect his intentions from the beginning since he’s never presented himself to his followers without all the layers of his traditional clothing.

Geto removes his fingers, straightening his posture as he finishes his sentence, he pats his lap and you find his eyes, they are predatory, from then on you’re dealing with Geto-sama, not Suguru.

You’re already undoing the ropes that tie his haori just like he did to you a few minutes ago. He’s bare under the fabric, dick is tall and hard, the leaking tip shines under the orange glow of the candlelight as you align it with your entrance.

“If you can’t control your urges, they’ll control you” he claims, hands behind your knees, his voice is steady but the grip he has on you tells it’s hard to control himself too.

“No person or thing should control you… except for me” the last part is whispered for your ears only. You bottom out on him, needing a moment to recover, not just from the stretch on your lower half but from his words and by how willing you are to let him control you.

Especially when he puts his hand on your head, pressuring slightly guiding you to his neck. He keeps his hand there, caressing your hair as you relax on his hold, like he’s comforting someone who's just lost a dear relative, not a simple villager he spared and is now balls deep inside dozens of followers.

With a sharp pinch on your thigh Geto signs you to start moving, you arch your back and raise your hips to slide out of his cock till only the tip is left then sitting back. Since the yukata was not fully removed, it stays on you, sleeves pooling on the middle of your arms, the rest serves as a curtain, keeping the audience from viewing the junction of you and your savior.

You busy your mouth by kissing and sucking his neck, he gives your hair a discreet pull, a warning to not mark him, guess it would be bad for his reputation if his beloved sorcerers find out he’s whipped by a good-for-nothing human.

All they know — as far as Geto is concerned —, is that you’re his little pet, kind of a 3 for the price of 2 after he took in the twins, a package deal he simply had to accept.

Whatever, you don’t care about them anyways. As long as they’re treating your girls as one of their own, it doesn’t matter how they treat you. Geto, Mimiko and Nanako are all you need to be content with your life.

Geto should limit himself from touching you, his fingers shouldn’t be tracing the little marks and scratches on your back.

“You are not perfect, mistakes will happen, that’s why you need someone to guide you” he talks to the audience, his chin resting on your shoulders as the tip of his fingers run over each trauma and imperfections on your back. At this point — with his dick reaching such a sweet spot inside your walls —, you are not sure if he’s still indirectly talking to you, but something makes you think he’s talking to himself, about you.

Is it such a delusional thought? That you are the one guiding him and not the other way around? You thighs clench around him, the awkward feeling in your chest start to bring clarity to your pleasure blurred mind and you start to look around reflecting on your situation.

Geto relizes something switched in your dumb little head, you do that sometimes, look around with wide eyes and heavy breathing. Suguru remembers the days in jujutsu tech, when he was confused, consumed by the trauma and unsure about his future. Why did you make him remember that? Your chest is rising rapidly, he doesn’t want you to panic, that’s not supposed to happen under his watch.

You’re taken from his lap.

“You love me, don’t you?” Suguru holds your chin bringing your focus to him, only him. You nod slowly, admiring his sculpted face by the candlelight, “Then what are you afraid of?”

You search your mind for all the reasons to be afraid right now, shouldn’t be hard, all you need is to look around and remember why you’re here.

Yet his hazel eyes don’t allow you to find any of those reasons, somehow your heart doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“Don’t you trust me?” he rubs your chin and you nod again, “Show me” you blink confusingly, “Show me how much you love me.”

You’re sitting on your knees as your eyes trail down where his member is still hard, it glistens with your juices and throbs slightly, the sight is too irresistible.

So you bow to your savior, taking him fully into your mouth, the position giving the closest thing to a privacy moment, where you could pretend it’s just you and Suguru like in the late nights in his chamber.

“There you go” he sighs happily patting your head, not putting any pressure, like what you’re doing is not sexual at all.

It’s merely a form of adoration. And Geto deserves being adored.

Naturally, you take him as deep as you possibly can, focusing your best in worshiping every inch of his skin, putting as much love into it as you can, not even minding the emptiness on your lower half or how you’re dripping on the mat.

There’s a buzz in your ear, you know Geto is talking, finishing his speech probably, but you can’t actually hear him, feels like hearing someone talking from a distance.

The last thing you remember is the hot shot on the back of your throat and the member twitching in your mouth. You think you heard Geto moan, which brings a weird feeling in your stomach since, as far as you know, you’re supposed to be the only one to hear that. His thumb goes to your chin, whipping the saliva and cum, pushing you to release him, you do, but you keep kissing his soft length until the smell of him mixed with the candles and something only this room had made you black out.

Phenomenal.

A word that resumes what Geto thinks about your performance tonight. If he gave you a script it wouldn’t have played out so perfectly.

Sometimes Geto underestimates how willing you are to be controlled by him.

When everything is done, he takes you into his arms, after wrapping the Yukata back around your body, he raises to his feet and steps down from his small stage carrying you.

There’s a door behind the stage, passing the curtains, which he usually uses as entrance and exit. Yet that night he feels like walking through the audience, with a pretty little thing unconscious on his mighty arms and a bunch of loyal followers bowing on his feet he experiences being, truly, a god.

#— cult-tober #geto x reader #geto x female reader #geto suguru #suguru x y/n #cult leader!geto #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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dantakeyoman · 1 year

Text

You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam

“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.

You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.

Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.

Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.

You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.

In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.

So why would he ever like you?

A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.

“Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.

“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.

That was your tickle spot.

“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.

You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.

“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.

Neteyam.

“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.

Her?

You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.

They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.

“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.

Why were you feeling this way?

A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.

You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.

And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.

“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.

He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.

So why not give him a little push?

“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.

Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear

“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.

“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.

You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.

Neteyam felt this way...about you?

“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.

This was pathetic.

He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.

He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.

Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”

He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.

“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”

Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.

Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.

“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore.

“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”

Damn.

Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.

Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.

Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.

Mission Accomplished.

Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.

Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.

And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.

“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.

“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.

Shit.

...

taglist !!

@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #atwow x reader #atwow #omitacaya

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soberscientistlife · 1 year

Text

“A grown man looms behind my three-year-old daughter. Occasionally he will poke or tickle her and she responds by shrinking. Smaller and smaller with each unwanted advance. I imagine her trying to become slight enough to slip out of her booster seat and slide under the table.

When my mother views this scene, she sees playful taunting. A grandfather engaging with his granddaughter. “Mae.” My tone cuts through the din of a familiar family gathering together. She does not look at me.

“Mae.” I start again. “You can tell him no Mae. If this isn’t okay you could say something like, Papa, please back up—I would like some space for my body.”

As I say the words, my step-father, the bulldog, leans in a little closer, hovering just above her head. His tenebrous grin taunts me as my daughter accordions her 30-pound frame hoping to escape his tickles and hot breath.

I repeat myself with a little more force. She finally peeks up at me. “Mama . . . can you say it?”

Surprise. A three-year-old-girl doesn’t feel comfortable defending herself against a grown man. A man that has stated he loves and cares for her over and over again, and yet, stands here showing zero concern for her wishes about her own body. I ready myself for battle. “Papa! Please back up! Mae would like some space for her body.”

My voice is firm but cheerful. He does not move. “Papa. I should not have to ask you twice. Please back up. Mae is uncomfortable.”

“Oh, relax,” he says, ruffling her wispy blonde hair. The patriarchy stands, patronizing me in my own damn kitchen. “We’re just playin’.” His southern drawl does not charm me. “No. You were playing. She was not. She’s made it clear that she would like some space, now please back up.”

“I can play how I want with her.” He says, straightening his posture. My chest tightens. The sun-bleached hairs on my arms stand at attention as this man, who has been my father figure for more than three decades, enters the battle ring.

“No. No, you cannot play however you want with her. It’s not okay to ‘have fun’ with someone who does not want to play.” He opens his mouth to respond but my rage is palpable through my measured response. I wonder if my daughter can feel it. I hope she can.

He retreats to the living room and my daughter stares up at me. Her eyes, a starburst of blue and hazel, shine with admiration for her mama. The dragon has been slayed (for now). My own mother is silent. She refuses to make eye contact with me.

This is the same woman who shut me down when I told her about a sexual assault I had recently come to acknowledge.

This is the same woman who was abducted by a carful of strangers as she walked home one night. She fought and screamed until they kicked her out. Speeding away, they ran over her ankle and left her with a lifetime of physical and emotional pain.

This is the same woman who said nothing, who could say nothing as her boss and his friends sexually harassed her for years. This is the same woman who married one of those friends. When my mother views this scene, she sees her daughter overreacting. She sees me ‘making a big deal out of nothing.’ Her concerns lie more in maintaining the status quo and cradling my step-dad’s toxic ego than in protecting the shrinking three-year-old in front of her.

When I view this scene, I am both bolstered and dismayed. My own strength and refusal to keep quiet is the result of hundreds, probably thousands of years of women being mistreated, and their protests ignored. It is the result of watching my own mother suffer quietly at the hands of too many men. It is the result of my own mistreatment and my solemn vow to be part of ending this cycle.

It would be so easy to see a little girl being taught that her wishes don’t matter. That her body is not her own. That even people she loves will mistreat and ignore her. And that all of this is “okay” in the name of other people, men, having fun.

But. What I see instead is a little girl watching her mama. I see a little girl learning that her voice matters. That her wishes matter. I see a little girl learning that she is allowed and expected to say no. I see her learning that this is not okay.

I hope my mom is learning something, too. Fighting the patriarchy one grandpa at a time.”

~ By Lisa Norgren

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xjoonchildx · 2 months

Text

kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

��Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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A Second Chance

pairing: Aemond x Reader request: Hello! Sorry to bother you but i have a little idea that came from all the reblogs you recently made! basically Aemond is away so Alicent requests that reader! Comes back after a long time to the red keep because she wants to see her boy happy 🥺 of course its just a simple start but would love to see nice Alicent helping his baby ~ anonymous

warnings: none! this has the tiniest amount of angst but mostly fluff word count: 1.4k note: loved this, loved writing emotional Aemond & your messages are NEVER ever a bother! 💚 masterlist

“I was ever so sorry to hear of the death of your lord husband, Lady (Y/N),” Alicent said, giving you a look full of a mother’s compassion, “and so unfortunate he should leave you so quickly after you wed.”

You take a sip from your cup. The Queen had invited you to the capital and you had been delighted to return. Ever since you arrived your eyes had been searching for Aemond.

You had both left on such harsh terms those several years ago when your betrothal had been announced. You had been missing him for years, feeling as though a very piece of your own heart had been missing.

“Thank you, your grace,” you tell her, speaking softly.

Your lord husband had been a kind man. Married to you as an alliance for your families and that was all. He was nearly twice your age, but he had been sweet to you.

“My son has missed your presence,” Alicent tells you.

“I was hoping to see the prince,” you said, heart rate increasing.

Alicent nods, looking off to the side. Your smile falters as the realization washes over you at her hesitant glance.

“Aemond does not know I am here,” you tell her. It is a statement, not a question.

Alicent struggles to keep the smile on her face. She brought her hand to yours, squeezing it gently.

“I thought perhaps we shall surprise him,” she says softly.

“I do not think he wishes to see me,” you tell her, and feel a slash of pain in your heart. The wound is still fresh, though the years had passed.

“Tell them not to let me go,” you had begged him, chasing him down an empty corridor.

The one-eyed prince had stopped his long strides turning to face you.

“Tell them you wish to marry me,” you had begged.

Aemond had been silent for many moments.

“I cannot tell them what is not true.”

You remembered it as though it had happened yesterday. The cold look in his eye, so unlike that of which he usually awarded you. None of the kindness you had grown to love.

“He does,” Alicent insists, “he has been terribly lonely these past years. Growing more resentful each day. I worry about him.”

In truth, you had never stopped thinking of Aemond. He plagued your thoughts at every moment.

You blink away the tears that gather in your eyes.

“He shall be returning soon,” Alicent tells you, “join us for supper tonight, please.”

Her thumb continues to stroke the back of your hand, a hopeful look is in her eyes. You nod in agreement.

Aemond remembered watching you go, the way your eyes had filled with tears. The look of betrayal on your face. That most of all. That has haunted most of his days since your departure.

In truth, he had wished to marry you. But duty is often in conflict with matters of the heart. And duty demanded he remained unwed.

And though it pained him to do so, he had to let you go.

Aemond walks quickly to his chambers, eager to bathe and dress before joining his mother for dinner. The days have been long, and there is no feeling like that of being home.

He hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, the hot water nipping at his pale skin. Aemond wishes to be done quickly, he doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts. He finds himself constantly training, reading, researching, and doing anything to distract himself from the constant thoughts that plague him.

You.

It has been years since he last saw you since you last spoke. He supposed you must have several children by now. This did not make him sad, he hoped you had children to brighten your life.

Aemond readied himself before making his way to his mother’s chambers. It was to be a small affair for supper that evening, as Aegon was entertaining some guests from the west.

“Aemond,” Alicent said, as he arrived. She embraced her son whom she had not seen in several months.

“It is good to see you, mother,” he said.

“I have missed you,” she told him, “I have invited a guest for dinner..”

“A guest?” Aemond questions, as the door opens.

He turns and his breath catches in his throat as he sees you in the doorway. Your eyes are wide as you take him in. Aemond looks good, taller perhaps if that is possible. Leaner, the entirety of him is ropey muscles. He is handsome as ever, eyepatch securely covering his ruined eye. Aemond’s lips part.

“Hello Aemond,” you say softly smiling.

“Lady (Y/N) has agreed to join us for supper, isn’t that lovely?” Alicent says, placing a hand on her son’s arm.

Aemond jerks his head in a nod causing Alicent to smile.

“I shall be but a moment,” she says, starting toward the door. She stops to caress your cheek, before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

You inhale a shaky breath.

“Are you well?” you ask as Aemond continues to stare, a rather innocent expression on his normally harsh face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice hoarse. You wet your lips wringing your hands together.

“Your mother invited me to the capital,” you tell him, “I did not know you had no part in the invitation.”

“My mother?” Aemond said, shaking his head. Of course, his mother. The hopeless romantic who always wanted more for her children than the hand she had been dealt. You nod.

“She wished to offer her condolences,” you continue, walking towards the fireplace. You reach for a grape that lays on a golden tray. Aemond’s brow furrows.

“Condolences?” he asks, watching you pop the grape into your mouth. You chuckle.

“Shall you speak in questions all evening, my prince?” you tease before answering his question.

“My late husband has passed,” you inform him. A moment of pause lingers between you.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Aemond says, “I do hope your children are weathering alright?”

You meet his eye, a blush beginning to creep onto your cheeks. Aemond wishes he could place his hands upon your cheeks, to feel the burning that resides underneath your smooth flesh.

“We were not blessed with children,” you tell him, “my lord husband was not well, for the majority of our marriage.”

“Did he treat you well?” Aemond asks, voice turning to a tone of concern.

“Oh yes,” you assure him, “yes, he was very kind to me. But-”

You find yourself struggling to speak, struggling to find the right words.

“He did not love me,” you decide, “he did not desire me. It was a quiet marriage.”

Aemond is watching you carefully. How foolish he had been to let you slip from his fingers. The gods are good, they must be repaying him for his suffering in some way by returning you to him. By offering him a second chance.

“I would,” Aemond says softly.

He walks over to you until he stands directly before you.

“I would love you, I would desire you,” he tells you, “I do, I always have.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to say that-”

“I do, and I was a fool,” he continues, taking your hands in his, “I was a fool to let you leave when I loved you. I have loved you and continue to love you.”

The tears are freely flowing down your cheeks, dripping past your chin and onto the stone floor.

“There has not been a day that goes by where I do not think of you,” he continues, “there is not a corner of this world I could fly to where I did not see your face. In every passerby, in the light of the moon. You are everywhere. You are all-consuming.”

“Aemond,” you beg, not sure exactly if you wish him to stop or keep speaking.

“I love you,” he insists, fingers digging into your waist.

You bring your hands to his chest, pulling him towards you and connecting your mouths. The kiss is desperate and passionate, making up for the lost time. Aemond can feel the coolness from your tears caressing his face, and you start to laugh against his mouth.

He kisses you again and again, swallowing the happy laughter that pours from your sweet lips.

Queen Alicent stands outside the room, back pressed against the wood of the door, listening to your whispers, and laughter. She places a hand against her heart and closes her eyes, happy that her son has found the love he so longed for.

note: hope you enjoyed I love me a good love confession, especially from our fave one-eyed prince 🥹

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mistyheartrbs · 9 months

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cannot stop thinking about weird barbie and queercoding and how her subplot mirrors margot robbie barbie’s main plotline and the Implications of it all. because like. weird barbie is introduced as this outsider who lives on the fringes of barbieland society (it’s intentionally never made clear whether she was exiled or chose to set up camp there herself; the way mckinnon plays her makes me think probably a mix of both) who, as one of the other barbies (i want to say alexandra shipp/the author?) explains, was one of the prettiest barbies until a little girl played with her too hard, and now she’s an outcast. the barbies call her Weird Barbie behind her back and to her face. this is because of something she couldn’t control (first parallel to robbie’s barbie, whose crisis is brought on by gloria’s own feelings of negativity) and yet she’s forced away because of it. going to hop onto a brief tangent here and say one of the things that never sat right with me in toy story 3 was the weird...demonization? of the preschoolers who chew on/break/otherwise harm the toys because in a story where the Very Ultimate Dream of any toy is to be loved and played with it’s bizarre that they then seemed to be saying well, actually, there are Wrong ways to play with toys when these kids didn’t know any better. and it would’ve been easy for that to be weird barbie’s deal - a freaky little girl played with her in the “wrong” way and doomed her as a result. but she gets to be a hero! she leads the resistance!

robbie’s barbie is immune to ken’s brainwashing bc she experienced the real world’s misogyny and more specifically felt gloria’s messy complex human emotions - her “dark and crazy” drawings, as sasha calls them - stemming from the pain of being a woman in society. weird barbie has never been to the real world and still manages to stay immune, along with her mansion of misfit toys (including, as other tumblr users have pointed out, magic earring ken aka Gay Ken) - there’s layers to that. in both robbie’s barbie’s and weird barbie’s cases, their girls placed Weird and Unpleasant feelings onto the perfect ideal that is Barbie™ and absolutely upended their lives as a result - but they became fully realized people because of it. barbie chooses to go back to the real world to live as a human woman because she wants to feel all those messy and bizarre human feelings! she loves them! she loves humanity and the avenues through which she reaches that love are women being unabashedly freaky and weird both within and outside of her understanding of the world she lives in. what a queer experience. what a way to showcase that scary exciting feeling of being on the very fringes of girlhood and needing to define it for yourself. pink birkenstocks. she leaves barbieland better than she found it. she can’t stay there anymore. she loves the people around her and she loves herself and that self-love is something she’s earned now. weird barbie gets to run sanitation. gloria’s ideas for ordinary barbie foster understanding. barbie is sasha’s stepmom now probably. greta gerwig you’ve done it again.

#barbie #barbie (2023)#barbie spoilers #weird barbie #took like a ten minute break from writing this and thought 'weird barbie and jo march two sides of the same coin' so now that's there also #still thinking also about the fact that mckinnon and gerwig went to barnard college together #natsuki's terrible disco pants

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Avatar Men Reacting to Your Confession

Pairing: Jake Sully, Neteyam, Lo'ak, Tsu'Tey, Miles Quaritch, Aonung, Tonowari

Tags: fluff, confession, purring, cuddling, teasing, crushes, playful biting, tail shenanigans, lots of kisses

A/N: Will I ever be free of these tall blue alien guys? Probably not.

JAKE SULLY

Jake is not good at hiding his joy from your words, not in the slightest. You'd think that as a trained soldier he'd have a better grasp of his emotions but nope, he's not afraid to let them show at all.

He can't contain himself when he hears your confession, he's picking you up and spinning you around, his arms under your thighs and his face nuzzling against your neck, kissing it and making deep purring sounds.

NETEYAM

Tries to keep the smile off his face but it's damn hard when you're still looking up at him with those almost puppy-like eyes. He's clenching and unclenching his hands, throat bobbing as he gulps.

He's actually had a whole speech ready for when he confesses to you, been thinking long and hard about it. Wanted to surprise you with it next time he took you on a nightly flight, but since you already spilled your heart out it's only fair that he does the same.

LO'AK

He knows you can see how happy he is to hear you say you like him. Still he has to at least attempt not to get too excited, instead he takes a deep breath and approaches you, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes looking into yours as he smiles at you and hugs you close.

Now you can't see just how big his smile is, how lovestruck he looks as he asks you if it would be okay if you just stayed like this for a while, with his arms around you and your head against his chest, hearing just how fast his heart is beating.

TSU'TEY

Very much not a man of words and doesn't know how to react when you tell him of your feelings. He's always been very cocky so it's not a shock to him that you'd fall for him. This wasn't the first time he's been confessed to after all.

He would like to take some time to think on this. You seem like you would make for a good match for him but he can't just be with any woman who tells him she loves him. That being said, your chances are looking pretty good.

MILES QUARITCH

Alright. And what exactly is supposed to do with this information? You like him, he's known that for a while, that's nothing new to him. Or did you actually think you were hiding it? The whole base knows.

You sure are cute when you're flustered. He had to tease you a little. Come on now, he does like you of course, but he's not looking for a committed relationship right now. He's fine with the way things are, something between friends and lovers. After the mission is over you can talk about being something more.

AONUNG

Aonung cannot control his tail when you confess to him. It's tapping, swishing, swaying, making splashes in the water from how happy, and now embarrassed he is.

If you would like to date him then first he has to court you properly, meaning that you have talk to his parents too. He's prepared to step up for you of course. But before that... care to join him on a midnight swim under the stars?

TONOWARI

Wants to handle his feelings for you in private. He suspected something was up when you couldn't stop looking at him since the moment you arrived.

He admits he was enjoying the attention but did not want to assume anything of you. If you'd like to go out with him on a few dates and things work out then he will gladly announce your official courtship. Until then he would would like you all to himself.

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alonetimelover · 6 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x book writer!reader

fc: Saoirse Ronan

summary: YN just released her debut book, and it became the hot topic online. It might have something to do with certain someone being spotted buying it.

a/n: comments to all those posts are long, because i wanted to somehow incorporate the plot of the book that book writer!reader wrote!

masterlist taglist

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yourinstagram

liked by fallinloveinbooks, user49 and 89 202 others

yourinstagram Those are the notebooks in which I wrote my little baby. I can't believe I am typing this, but 'Silver Lining' is out !!! You can buy it at all independent London bookstores. I can't wait for your reviews. I'll read them all.

view all 8 201 comments

yourbestfriend MY BEST FRIEND IS AN AUTHOR !!! JANE AUSTEN WHO ???

⤷ yourinstagram do not disrespect the legend here

fallinloveinbooks OMG i've been following you since that one post about understanding fantasy world and being allowed to incorporate real world in it! i can't wait to read it, im going to the store right now!

⤷ yourinstagram YOU. ARE. THE. SWEETEST. and i remember you from that post and all that came after. I LOVE YOU and will wait for your words!

user92 what is the genre of the book?

⤷ yourinstagram it's fantasy! but there are a few subgenres. i'd say romance and mystery play a huge role in this book, too!

user109 will it be available online? im from us and would love to read your book!

⤷ yourinstagram unfortunately, not in a foreseeable future

⤷ user109 oh no, why??

⤷ yourinstagram being completely transparent, i released this book using my own money- no publishing house involved - because no one was really interested in it. what is in the stores is the printing i was able to afford. hopefully, they will sell and i'll be able to print more editions.

⤷ user102 im crossing my fingers for you

hArrysbtch i was looking for some new fantasy books, you are sent from heaven

⤷ yourinstagram hope you like it, angel

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, yourbestfriend and 80 393 others

harryupdates HARRY outside of the independent bookstore in London today! EDIT: because all of you are asking, he apparently bought 'Silver Lining' by YN YSN !

view all 2 202 comments

hArrysbtch I've just finished that book and OMG OMG OMG, i don't know what to tell you, but he's getting into something so beautiful so structured so sad, i can't say enough.

⤷ harrysmoustache so it's worth it?

⤷ hArrysbtch YES. YES. YES. absolutely. from the first page to the last, it just consumes you. yn did such a good job, and it's her first book ever!

⤷ harrysmoustache oh, i can't find it online

⤷ hArrysbtch it's only at independent bookstores in London. no publishing house was involved, she printed all the copies available with her own money. i can buy it for you and send it?

⤷ harrysmoustache i DMed you!

stylesbabie harry in his book girl era

harrysmylife he is back and he is reading, he's just like me

user102 there's no way he has that book and i don't

fallinloveinbooks I've read it, and I loved it. I hated it because of how much it made me cry. Harry, you're in for a ride a wild one with all the *wink*wink* scenes and the most heartbreaking chapters of literature I've ever come upon

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 173 302 others

yourinstagram I cannot express how thankful I am for you and your love for my book. Unfortunately, for now, there are no copies available. But im trying to make it work. But maybe it wasn't meant to be...

view all 10 202 comments

yourbestfriend that's a bestseller book if you ask me

⤷ yourinstagram you are the love of my life

hArrysbtch not you using the last line of the book, like it didn't tear my heart open

hArrysbtch thank god it's already on my bookshelf, happy that it broke my heart and made me horny

⤷ yourinstagram Those were the emotions I wanted people to feel!

harrysmoustache my copy is flying to me, and I can't wait to read it

⤷ yourinstagram ill be waiting for your review!

user102 read, loved, cried and read again

⤷ yourinstagram two times??? i could smother you in kisses

⤷ user102 i wouldn’t mind that

user292 can't explain how unique and original it is

⤷ yourinstagram ❤️

user939 not harry lurking in the likes

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 128 402 others

harryupdates HARRY and writer YN YSN out and about in London today!

view all 6 080 comments

hArrysbtch Alexa play that should be me by Justin Bieber

hArrysbtch she's mine harry, fuck off

hArrysbtch what is it that whenever I find someone to obsess over they become somehow connected to harry

hArrysbtch but, i smell couple material !!!

harrysmoustache he's gonna be the inspiration spark

⤷ hArrysbtch don't even start! i read silver lining with Harry in mind as one of the main characters

⤷ harrysmoustache as Emrys, right?

⤷ hArrysbtch yes! my protective and sexy bookboyfriend

⤷ user102 I see, we support complicated men here, i love it

stylesbabie they look so good together

⤷ user02 their backs are towards the camera...

⤷ stylesbabie shhh

harrysmylife I love her style !!!!

user402 she's getting so much attention from it. how did she manage this pr?

⤷ hArrysbtch pr???

⤷ user402 don't tell me it doesn't look like one?

⤷ hArrysbtch yeah, I forgot. every woman harry is seen with is just pr or the one to hate. of course. tpwk does not include woman harry is involved with?

⤷ harrysmoustache burnt!!!

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bloomsbury

liked by yourinstagram, yourbestfriend, harrystyles and 40 492 others

bloomsbury Our newest pea in the Bloomsbury pod is the sweetest, London based, young author who has just published her debut novel. We are here to help and tell you that 'Silver Lining' is coming to all bookstores in the world and to online shopping as well on the 15th of November. To feel whole again.

view all 2 202 comments

yourinstagram I LOVE MY NEW POD

yourbestfriend DONT FORGET ABOUT ME WHEN YOU BECOME FAMOUS

⤷ yourinstagram NEVER

harrystyles Congratulations, YN ❤️

⤷ yourinstagram well, thank you, harry

hArrysbtch my favourite author is getting famous!!!

fallinloveinbooks I CANT BELIEVE IT !!! congrats, yn!!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, sweets!

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fallinloveinbooks

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 6 492 others

fallinloveinbooks I'm attending YN's 'meet the writer' thingy in London and I cannot express how much appreciation I have for her. She thought every little detail in 'Silver Lining' through to make the book perfect. An icon!

view all 211 comments

hArrysbtch I am here too! And I love her so much!

harrysmoustache you need to either film some moments or just post-stream it for us!

stylesbabie she looks so beautiful

user102 I am here as well! we need to meet up!

⤷ hArrysbtch im in the second row!

⤷ user102 are you the one with a pixie cut?

⤷ hArrysbtch Yes, that's me!

⤷ fallinloveinbooks I think im sitting next to you, hArrysbtch

user42 come on guys, let us now what are the questions and answers!

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dailymail

liked by hArrysbtch, user102 and 103 393 others

dailymail NEW COUPLE ALERT? Harry Styles and newly established writer YN YSN were seen leaving the same restaurant (Styles a few moments after YSN). YN independently published her debut novel just two months ago and then signed a contract with Bloomsbury publishing house after Harry had been seen buying her book. For more photos and information, visit the link in our bio!

view all 19 302 comments

user102 not you making harry the only reason she got the contract

hArrysbtch she got a contract because of the interest her book sparked online, not harry

harrysmoustache i'll just leave it here but literally Neil Gaiman praised this book online

user402 oh yes, when the privilege is striking

user99 you just cannot stop taking photos of people in their free time, invading their privacy, can you?

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 201 392 others

yourinstagram Somethin' is cookin'. And that's the audiobook of "Silver Lining" voiced by me! It will be available on 23rd of December as podcast episodes on Spotify for more of you to enjoy! Merry early Christmas!

PS: there may or may not be someone else to accord their voice to Emrys

view all 19 292 comments

yourbestfriend i could be Rhiannon

⤷ yourinstagram you were laughing your ass off after two lines

⤷ yourbestfriend not my fault that Rhiannon is the comedy queen

harrystyles 📖🎤

hArrysbtch NO WAY! i adore your voice and now i'm gonna picture you as Rhiannon - this book just became even better (it already was perfect, i don't how you're doing it"

⤷ yourinstagram hopefully, i won't end up as her

fallinloveinbooks my dream came true. i usually have such a hard time reading that audiobooks are the only option. now i'm going to listen to my favourite chapter over and over again

⤷ yourinstagram which ones are your favourite?

⤷ fallinloveinbooks definitely 6, 15, 24, 33 and 42

⤷ hArrysbtch all the chapters that depicts love - i see you

⤷ fallinloveinbooks yes! the thing is that number 6 refers to love and all those chapter number's are either 6 or add up to 6

hArrysbtch wait wait wait, i've just realised. what if harry is voicing Emrys????

⤷ harrysmoustache don't give me hope

⤷ fallinloveinbooks that would be perfect

⤷ user102 i'm not ready to listen to chapter 24 and 33 with him voicing it

⤷ hArrysbtch i will die, literally. those scenes are intense!

user102 she just wants people to be able to read the book and not care about paying bundle and having shitty quality. i love her.

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harrysupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, fallinloveinbooks and 109 393 others

harryupdates HARRY and YN at the market in Clonakilty, Ireland!

view all 6 001 comments

hArrysbtch someone tell me is that her home town?

⤷ fallinloveinbooks yes, it is! her parents still live there!

⤷ hArrysbtch meeting parents? oh god, they are serious serious

fallinloveinbooks they live that small town romance book lives

⤷ user102 so true! i need her to write something like this!

⤷ hArrysbtch i would eat it up

stylesbabie Niall is proud right now

harrysmylife i can't express how much i love domestic harry

user20 she started the thunder online after *possibly* announcing that harry will voice Emrys and decided to step away from socials. i love her. i love her. i love her.

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irishharry

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 23 403 others

irishharry How thin are the chances to meet Harry in a small Irish town? Very thin. But not thin enough to be impossible. I MET HARRY FREAKING STYLES AND THE LEGEND HERSELF YN YSN !!!

view all 2 022 comments

hArrysbtch they look so cosy... i want what they have

⤷ fallinloveinbooks a man?

⤷ hArrrysbtch yuck, i only like fictional men + harry

harrysmoustache this ken's job is walk

harryupdates this is very aestheticly pleasing photo

stylesbabie small town!harry is my favourite

user102 hopefully the inspiration is overflowing because i'm reading silver lining for the third time

⤷ hArrysbtch are you okay???

⤷ user102 nope. i just love torturing myself

fallinloveinbooks the matching coats...

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 401 100 others

yourinstagram my love in your heart...

view all 14 292 comments

yourbestfriend answer my calls, yn !!!

⤷ yourinstagram i won't tell you

harrystyles ...my heart in your palm

hArrysbtch I LOVE THE SOFT LAUNCH

hArrysbtch PARENTS

harrysmoustache i love how we all know that this is harry but at the same time it doesn't have to be

⤷ hArrysbtch it better be! this post just cured all my mental problems

fallinloveinbooks the caption... is it the title?

⤷ user102 look at harry's comment, it might be a main thing in her next novel/short story collection

⤷ hArrysbtch the inspiration sparked and inspiration was harry. that's it. when it's published i can die happily

⤷ user102 decide, that or harry voicing Emrys

⤷ hArrybtch im chronically online, don't require any consistency from me

harryupdates vacation in a small irish town birthed some masterpiece, i just know it

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a/n: i have part 2 made in my mind already. do we want more of them?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fluff #book writer!reader

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fuckmyskywalker · 4 months

Text

❄️𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓𝐭𝐡 : 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

— CW: 18+, smut. Cheating. PiV. Both Padme and Anakin cheat. | Word count: 2.0k (not proofread!)

— a/n: Consider this a late Christmas gift because it's 2k <3. I normally don't like my fics but I can say I am proud of this one. Inspired by an unreleased song by Jules Paymer. Follow them ;).

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

Anakin stares at you from the other side of the large room, admiring how you carry yourself with such grace and confidence. His hand tightens around the glass of whatever the fuck he is drinking, he can’t really give a damn about it now. All he can think of is how much he wishes he could yank your hair and beat you up. Drag you to the center of the room and expose you, scream to the world how you ruined the best thing he would ever have.

It’s time. He knows he has to be quick before you get away before he can get his stupid revenge. As he strides towards you, he can hear Padmé’s apologies ringing in his ear, bouncing inside his brain and making his blood boil.

“I am so sorry, it was a mistake! I promise I didn't mean to.”

“It was an accident, Anakin. I was drunk— she means nothing to me!”

“Please forgive me. I just couldn't lie to you anymore. It was killing me.”

Sure, maybe fucking the woman your wife cheated on you with isn't the best approach, but that's the only thing he can think of right now. Thankfully Padmé skipped today’s event, probably at home lamenting herself and planning a very sappy and emotional apology, buying him gifts, and preparing a new set of tears to ask for forgiveness. Anakin knows he will forgive her in the end, besides her he doesn't have anyone else. How is he going to give up the only good thing in his life?

He is pathetic to even consider forgiving an infidelity, but what else can he do? It isn't often that his mind strings a coherent thought, and tonight exception.will not be the exception. It would be easier to give you the benefit of the doubt; to be fair, you weren’t aware of his marriage, and if Padmé was as drunk as she claimed then— no. He cannot give her the benefit of the doubt. You are quick to acknowledge his presence and Anakin doesn’t miss the way you eye him up and down, completely oblivious to the way his eyes are beheading you. He isn’t nice when he presents himself, in fact, he is quite harsh with replying to your questions.

Your obvious interest makes him sick, so you think that with that pretty face and expensive gowns you can just get away with everything you want? Disgusting.

“I thought Jedis weren’t fond of these sorts of events,” You speak in a sultry tone. Anakin can bet you think you are being so smooth and seductive— batting those long eyelashes at him.

“Well, it’s nice to cool off from the stress every now and then.” Anakin gruffly replies, taking a sip of his drink trying to sound as charming as possible which on a normal day wouldn’t be hard, but Maker, his shoulders are so tense they hurt and his stomach is twisting with anger.

“Glad you can find a reliever,” You wink, and he can read what you imply— another type of reliever is thrown on the plate, it is up to him to bite it or spit on it. “You do look tense… General.” The way his title rolls down your tongue makes him sick. So you know who he is, did Padmé say something? Did she mention him at all? Did she even think about him as he was breaking his trust?

“Long day.”

The initial conversation is polite, he has to give you that. You don’t go straight to the point which he is thankful for, if you had tried any insinuation Anakin wouldn’t have been able to hold the impulse to crash his glass against your head. His internal struggle becomes hard; when he finds himself smirking at a snarky comment you make of another guest on the other side of the room, or when he sees you smiling at a very fake compliment he gave you… he feels nauseous— to not say ashamed— he can see right through you but you cannot see his real intentions.

“I can’t imagine living on the edge all day,” You sigh, tapping your long, manicured nails on the oddly-shaped drink. “Must be quite challenging.

Anakin suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “You get used to it,” Is he being too harsh? Too scattering? How are you supposed to treat the person you now hate the most?

You offer him another drink which he reluctantly accepts, is this your preferred method? To force people to drink and then take advantage of them? Or is his vision of reality so distorted he isn’t able to pick up that you are the one tipsy? If any he would be the one taking advantage of you.

Anakin watches you drink without restraints, staining the edge of the glass with your dark lipstick. Is that the same color that tempted his wife? Or did you choose another shade that night? His sudden jealousy is clouding his judgment, not that he has much but still.

After your third drink— although Anakin is sure you had a couple more before he decided it was time to talk to you— your tongue begins to lose. Your questions get bolder as well as your touch. Your hand lays on his arm when you laugh, your body slowly making its way dangerously close to his. Despite the sick feeling that rises up his stomach, threatening to regurgitate the lousy dinner he managed to eat, Anakin forces himself to place his gloved hand on your lower back with an unauthentic smile. He needs to play along because that’s what he wants right? To get revenge.

It’s not hard to find an empty room in this ridiculously enormous building. Too many unused rooms that on a normal day would throw him into a useless rant about how poorly managed the Senate budget is, but then again— this isn’t a normal day for Anakin. What is extremely challenging is to continue with his plan; you let him do his move which makes him drown in self-doubt and loathing again. Was his wife the one who made the first move? Did she kiss you the way he was kissing you now?

The dark red lipstick smears all over his lips, and Anakin swears he can taste bile on his tongue. It’s stupid. What did he even think this was a good idea to start with? He is fucking stupid. Bringing your body closer to his, Anakin parts his lips to deepen the kiss, shivering when your tongue comes in contact with his. Pushing you further against the wall, you mistake his intentions— he looks like he wants to merge his body with yours, and the misunderstanding fuels your desire. He is handsome, terribly so, so where’s the harm in having a little fun? His kisses are heated, rushed, he wants to be done with this as soon as possible. He wants to— what the fuck does he even wants to? Is this the moment of clarity? Maybe.

Suddenly your lips don’t feel that bad. The taste turns sweet and it catches him by surprise, if this was what Padmé felt then maybe… Can he even blame her?

A kiss. No. Multiple. Contact after contact with Anakin's mind fogs. Your sounds are just as sweet as your lips, asking him for more, praising him, practically dragging him to the same mess he was never meant to get involved with. Clothes soon become a bother, but the situation isn’t ideal— nothing is. Your hands shouldn’t feel as good as they do— but fuck they do. Anakin gets greedy fast, a characteristic he probably will never be able to get rid of. A familiar burn builds up in his body, the only thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s laughable. It really is.

“Please don’t stop,” You whisper against his lips in a way that makes his blood boil, bright erythrocytes then pump his cock until it strains against his black robes, you feel it, of course, you do. “Oh— Anakin.”

Sweet. His name sounds so charming when you say it with his hand in between your legs. He wants more. Why? He’s not sure. Nothing seems real right now and for an instant he forgets he is about to have sex with the woman who unbeknownst to her ruined his marriage. Your skirts are heavy, but the layers of fabric don’t seem to be a problem. He finds you dripping, easily sinking two fingers inside you, watching with half-lidded eyes how you arch your back. No longer sweet but sinful. Anakin pants, feeling pathetic for finding the slightest hint of enjoyment in what was intended to be revenge.

“I can’t do this,” He mutters, withdrawing his hand. He can watch his fingers glisten under the dim light of the room. “I… I can’t.”

“Yes, yes you can,” Your voice is like a lullaby, broken and barely frustrated by the irruption. “Anakin, I need you.” Do you? Because he doesn’t know what he needs. The lines blur too fast for his mind to catch up and the next thing he registers is his trembling hand fumbling with his pants. “Please, Ani. Fuck me.” That damn nickname. The one that was reserved for the woman he loves, but if she had to share her with you for a night, it is only fair that Padmé shares that pet name with you too.

This wasn’t supposed to be something pleasurable, now Anakin can see clearly how Padmé couldn’t say no. When he fully slides his throbbing cock inside your tight heat he crumbles. Now he has gotten his own taste.

His thrusts are fast and eager, bringing one leg around his hips as his palm rests against the wall. You cling to his body desperately, moaning freely now— each sound pushing him closer to the edge he wasn’t meant to cross in the first place. A bead of sweat rolls down his brow, his tongue swirls with your sensually. No other touch had felt this addictive, plus the taboo of the secret he is holding, the one he will have to drag to the grave now. Anakin groans, biting your lower lip and tugging it with his teeth. Your pussy envelops his cock like a glove, tight and warm, so good and so bad at the same time.

“Maker— you feel so good,” You moan directly in his ear, furrowing your brows and rolling your eyes in delight. His cock feels amazing, stretching you in forms no other man has done. Is this the type of man the Jedi Council is keeping away from you? “I’m going to come, Ani. Fuck— harder, please.” You beg. That’s all you do. More. More. More. You are insatiable.

He is too far in— both literally and figuratively— to even deny you, which would mean he denies himself. He is close too, he can tell by the familiar clench under his lower stomach, how his balls tighten and slap against your sweaty body. He shouldn’t come inside, then he would be the same as his wife— or even worse.

The brief clarity the Force itself blessed him with suddenly disappears when you come undone around him. It’s like a wave crashing on top of him, drowning him in a feeling he knows will never be experienced again. You look like an angel, a miserable comparison given the situation. You climax with a strained moan, mouth hanging open and cursing to the Gods he will never believe in— and he is following you just seconds after.

Everything is ruined. Your makeup, your underwear, his dignity. Like a bitter reminder, the same apologies Padmé gave him over and over spun around his head with the same strength as his orgasm. Anakin rests his forehead against your naked shoulder, saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth as he struggles to catch his breath. He is fucked. He is so done. He is ruined.

He understands why Padmé cheated on him.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023!#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skwalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n

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