#But practice is always good and experimenting with different brushes are always a good idea!

[luckyyyduckyyy]

YOUUUU!!!!

IM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!! RAHHHH!!!!

30 days of drawing daily is SUPER hard, and you're already a week in!!! And you're challenging yourself to improve HELL YEAH-

What I mean to say is that drawing daily and experimenting with brushes is a great idea and I'm so happy you're doing it :3333

Also so happy I inspired you some I can see the resemblance AAAAAAAA- <3

Brushes do have an impact, so I'm glad you incorporated experimentation with your challenge! I literally switched from Photoshop to Krita for most drawings because the brushes just somehow felt better, despite Photoshop having such a wide and downloadable variety.

I love day 4 the most with how painterly it looks <3 It reminds me of final freeze frames of anime before they hit you with the To Be Continued.

Also you can already see improvement the more days go by :3

Like on day 7 the frills feel like they are in a 3D space with the focused detail and perspective! And your shading gets better as the days go on!!!

Also I am so excited for that chapter! Don't strain yourself too hard to get it in within the next hour - As long as you're happy with it that's the most important part! <333

(I will be reading it the second I notice it dropped tho-)

I need like, two more hours to finish and then read through the next chapter, so be on the lookout for that ^-^

BUT in the meantime, hyped myself up to share this little 'challenge' I've been doing for the past week, which is drawing Sun every day!

Yapping below the cut if you'd like to hear the 'why' behind this, feel free to just scroll by it tho lol

So I think I've shared before that I struggle a lot with lineart and such and so this was my way to get some practice. Especially since with classes and research my time is basically shot 😖

Every day (besides day 1/2) I used a different set of brushes for lining and coloring and just kind of went for it, some I like better than others, but I think it was good for me overall! Don't know if I'll do the next week with Moon or just continue with Sun, haven't decided yet

My intention is to continue to draw one of these everyday for a 30 days and use it as a way to practice and maybe boost my confidence in relation to art since I know it's something I need to work on IN me, y'know?

Anywho, I'm working on getting the next chapter of Confused Spirit out ASAP, I think it needs an hour more of writing and then an hour of reading through, need to do a couple other things tonight as well but it WILL be out before I go to bed tonight

Do apologize again for the wait, besides life being crazy this one got SUPER long (I THINK it's the biggest one yet, biggest in this arc I know that for sure) and based on the outline and personal perference I don't want to split it. Hope to see you all real soon :D

Also @luckyyyduckyyy if any of these look familar the way you draw Sun WAS in my brain while doodling that I will admit 😅

[misspygmypie]

What's That Brush For?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes Summary: Lando is fascinated by your morning makeup routine :) Words: 765

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with fascination as you meticulously applied your makeup. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow that made the whole process feel even more intimate. The Brit had been standing there for a good five minutes, observing you while you were pulling your hair into a high ponytail, without saying a single word. 

As you had moved on to doing your makeup for the day he just kept watching, mesmerized, as you skillfully blended foundation and brushed on eyeshadow with precise movements.

“Wow,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice tinged with awe. “I never realized how much goes into this. What’s that brush for?”

You watched as he picked up the little tool and looked at it wide-eyed, bopping its soft bristles with his index finger before bringing it up to his eyes and inspecting it closely.

You glanced up to your boyfriend. “This is a blending brush. It helps smooth out the eyeshadow so there are no harsh lines in between the colors.”

Lando nodded, clearly enthralled by the whole situation. “Can I try? I mean, I probably won’t get it right, but it looks like fun.”

You smiled at him, amused by his enthusiasm. “Sure, give it a go. Just be gentle and please don’t poke my eye out, I kind of still need it.”

“Shut up, you muppet, as if I was that clumsy…” he gave you a sour look and you chuckled, remembering some moments he definitely had been that clumsy.

As he carefully tried his hand at blending the different powders on your eyelid he asked, “Does it always take this long? I feel like I’m messing it up.”

“Practice makes perfect,” you reassured him, watching as his concentration intensified, his tongue now poking out of his mouth making him way more adorable than should be allowed. “It takes time to get the hang of it. And don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” you ensured him after a quick glance into the mirror.

He looked at the result and grinned, a mixture of pride and humor in his expression. “This is really cool. I had no idea it was such an art form. How did you learn all this?”

You laughed softly, appreciating his genuine interest which is something you never would have expected. But then again, this was Lando and he always was full of surprises. “A lot of trial and error, plus some tutorials online. It’s like anything else, practice and patience.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I should start learning more. Who knows, I might end up being a makeup artist on the side.”

You chuckled at the boy next to you. “You never know. It could be a fun skill to have. But don’t quit your day job just yet.”

He grinned, returning to his spot by the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the frame. “Fair enough. But if you ever need an assistant, I’m your guy,” Lando announced proudly, pointing at himself with his two thumbs.

“Thanks, Lan. I might just take you up on that offer someday. You know,” you said, applying a bit of highlighter with a deft hand, “makeup can be a lot like racing in a way. It’s all about precision, timing, and a bit of creativity.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah,” you explained, smiling as you looked at him. “Just like in racing, you need to have good technique and an eye for detail. And there’s always room to experiment and improve.”

He nodded thoughtfully, clearly processing the comparison. “I guess it makes sense. And I suppose the same principles apply, practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “And it’s all about having fun with it, too.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Well, I definitely had fun. Thanks for letting me try it out. Maybe next time we can swap skills, I'll give you a few racing tips if you show me more about makeup.”

“Deal,” you said, laughing. “Looking forward to it. But how about a cup of coffee first?”

“That can be arranged,” Lando smiled and gave you a quick kiss before he headed out into the direction of the kitchen. 

As the door clicked shut behind him, you tidied up the bathroom counter, feeling a small bit of excitement about what had just happened. It was one of those small moments that made you appreciate Lando just that much more and perhaps you soon would learn something new about his world too!

[mytokyodebunker]

Asking The Ghouls To Do Your Hair

Frostheim

Jin Kamurai

Jin… Doesn't know. Probably hands it off to Tohma- I'm just joking…UNLESS-. He's actually pretty caring of others so he might learn one or two different braids but that's it. He seems like he's probably good at putting your hair in a clip or a bun but nothing else.

Tohma Ishibashi

Tohma…..He would be good at it probably. If not, then surprise!!! He is now. He's used to taking care of Jin anyways, adding hairstyles or braiding to that list wouldn't be that bad.

Kaito Fuji

Kaito would absolutely love to do it but he would probably be bad at it. He's SCREAMING at the fact that he's touching your hair with your permission, extremely happy the entire time. Might be confused during the process but he's not complaining at all.

Lucas 'Luca' Errant

He doesn’t know but won't give up until he knows every hairstyle humanly possible. Every time he asks you with earnest eyes to let him practice again, and every hairstyle is more elaborate than the last. The process is always long and painful on your scalp, but the end result never disappoints!

Vagastrom

Alan Mido

Our young grandpa himbo. We all know he wouldn't know how and he would rather not accidentally hurt you in any way, even if you flinch at the slightest tug, he'll stop immediately.

Leo Kurosagi

Leo knows different hair styles, but doesn't know how to execute it. He knows what's trending and what looks good on a person. Little bastard wouldn't give the advice until you mess up though.

Shohei 'Sho' Haizono

He wouldn't know until he get comfortable with your hair and he'll pick up on it after awhile. The type to learn quickly. Alternatively, he does Leo's hair when Leo makes him do it, and he always does a good job. Very gentle.

He also strikes me as Leo's unwilling makeup artist and lighting/photoshoot assistant so you know that he has some sort of experience.

Jabberwock

Haru Sagara

He's the best person to ask if you want someone to brush your hair nicely (and quickly), since he's the one who grooms all the animals at Jabberwock. Can't do much else to your hair - maybe add a bow? Would still somehow injure himself in the process though.

Towa Otonashi

Surprisingly good at hair. Would probably also put flowers in it too while he's doing it. Sunny sunny day the entire time....may or may not eat the flowers while it's in your hair. He knows One (1) style and proceeds to make everyone he can get his hands on look like a fairy princess. There's no choice.

Ren Shiranami

Doesn't know. Doesn't WANT to know. Frankly, he is offended you asked him. He hasn't touched a comb in ages, his hair is short enough and it'll get messed up again anyway.

If anything, you would be combing his hair. But be warned, he will loudly complain whenever you get the comb caught on a tangle.

Sinostra

Taiga Hoshibami

Taiga….Nope. He will pull and tug on your hair. Forget anything about braiding or any hair styles, he'll fuck up your hair worse than you ever could. Taiga would rip your hair out or else cut the tangles out with scissors if you ever asked.

Romeo Lucci

He had strong opinions about your hair (and the rest of your look) from the start, so if you let him he'll give you a full makeover.

he'll know what your face shape needs and wash & style your hair nicely, then complain that your skin is crap and give you a facial and apply your makeup, then put you in a better outfit so that your shitty clothes don't ruin his hard work. Then make you work the casino floor because his services don't come for free and no he won't pay you. Do you have any idea how much the perfume you're wearing costs?

Ritsu Shinjo

Doesn't know. Could learn. Will he though? Probably not, it's nothing he needs to be a lawyer. If you insist, then he proceeds to over-gel your hair while you die inside. Later, he'll genuinely ask why you haven't asked him a second time.

Hotarubi

Subaru Kagami

Subaru would say he doesn’t know anything about hair but if you insist then maybe he'll just brush it out for you, but secretly he probably knows all of the theatre hairstyles for kabuki. He prefers leaving your hair loose though.

Haku Kusanagi

He can, and is ridiculously smooth at it too. No head pain, can tell if you've got a sensitive scalp, knows all of the staple styles - ponytail, bun, braid. It's strangely therapeutic to get your hair done by him, like spending time with a big sibling.

Zenji Kotodama

Zenji would make some rendition of maiko and geisha hairstyles but with his own spin on it, but it will take hours and your scalp will be screaming at you and he won't shut up all through the process. He would spout off poetry while at it. Might sing too. If you don't like his voice, too bad he's doing it every time he does your hair if he gets the chance.

Mortkranken

Yuri Isami

He insists that he, a genius doctor, is adept at everything that requires dexterity, but he refuses to spend his incredibly precious time braiding your hair. Suggest he's not actually that good, and he'll change tune. He'll sit you down and plait your hair with perfect surgical precision (ha), then demand endless praise and fawning.

Jiro Kirisaki

Doesn’t know. Probably hasn't used a comb before. He could learn, but that's so much effort. Thinks it'd be easier for both of you if you just cut it all off.

Obscuary

Rui Mizuki

Rui won't touch your hair, because he's worried about his curse, but he'd notice right away when you change your hair. He'll happily compliment it, and might suggest hairstyles he'd love to see you wear in the future.

[readychilledwine]

Odd request, but how do you think the acotar men would react to brushing their females cervix during sex ( you don’t have to write it if you don’t feel comfortable doing so) 💕

This kink isn't my cup of tea, but I know a lot of you like the idea of it so, let's gooooooo

The First Time He Brushed Your Cervix Head Canons

Warning - graphic link to make sure you understand some positioning

Rhysand

Rhysand's instinct as a high lord is to breed, so the first time you jump from him hitting that sensitive area, he can't help but to try over and over again

It made him practically feral, feeling so close to your womb he could practically release directly into it

He'd have your knees practically to your chest, hands gripping your ass as he plowed into you.

It turns into his goal every time you two fuck now. Even if succeeding in that goal means you won't walk for a few days.

"You like that, don't you? Like feeling me so deep inside of you. Your cunt sure swallows me like she does."

Cassian

With Cassian, it was a given, but it still made you whine for him.

He makes you look and feel even tinier than you are, and with how hung he is, it becomes a regular thing.

He always checks when it happens to make sure you're okay, but fuck he wishes he could just fuck straight through it.

Cassian didn't know he had a breeding Kink until it happened.

He's tried having you ride so you could prevent it, but his face when you sink all the way down is worth the little bit of shock.

"That's it, baby, relax. You feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing my cock so tight. Fuck, baby. Going to cum so deep inside of you."

Azriel

Azriel did it on purpose.

He knows you like pain mixed in with your pleasure, and he's more than happy to provide.

He loves watching you squrim while he's giving you deep, hard thrusts from behind

He has a filthy mouth to match the action to, mocking you as you cry out his name but beg for it over and over again.

He's a sadistic lover, so once you two discovered that was okay as long as it was discussed prior, he was sold.

"Fuck, I'm going to ruin this pussy and you'll just let me, won't you?" As he grabs your chin and forced you to nod. "That's right, you feel me, baby? Feel me stretching you out? Good girl. Good fucking girl."

Lucien

He stopped. He immediately stopped. He couldn't tell if your gasp was a happy one or one of pain.

It was one of pain, so he pulled out and immediately laid you on your back.

He buried his head between your legs for the night after that. Bring you to completion over and over until you were begging for him to be inside of you.

He was careful this time, giving you the deep thrusts you wanted but being so gentle as he bottomed out at a different angle.

"Making me feel like a God, bunny. This tight little cunt was made for me, wasn't she?"

Eris

I have a head canon that Eris is a gentle love maker, despite how I tend to write him

Eris, much like Lucien, stopped when it happened.

He only cared about you being okay. He's read enough books to know the nerves there are beyond sensitive.

When you were fine, something ignited in him. It became one of his favorite things, but he didn't plan or seek it to happen. When it does happen, though, the way he talks you through it is enough to push you over the edge.

"My pretty little mate. This cunt is perfect. Always so tight and wet for me. Is she all mine?"

Tamlin

Tamlin's reaction is very similar to Rhysand's.

The urge for a High Lord to breed breed breed turns him into a growling mess.

Claws will dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips when it happens, but you absolutely love it

Sex with Tamlin could never get boring. Shape shifter, remember?

You've gotten to experience him shifting his cock to different sizes and forms just to kiss your cervix once you two decided you liked it.

In short, if the Cauldron had not made you Tamlin's mate, you'd pick him for his cock alone, regardless.

(Listen. Liz could write a lot of monster fucking about Tamlin.)

[writing-with-moss]

Kinktober 2- Age Gap

(Authors note) I'm a beast. I'm a god. I know no limits. I'm an insatiable being. The smut will keep coming, until I come.

John Price x f!Reader

TW/CW- Age gap (Legal ofc), dubcon, semi-public sex, virginity being taken, mention of a baby but it's like a sentence, chubby reader!! Got this idea from someone but I cant remember who (If I remember, I'll tag!)

SMUT UNDER CUT!!

Price always knew you were a sweet thing. His new secretary. Barely a 20 year old, sweet and bubble headed, always talking so sweetly to him.

The way you'd wear those short little pencil skirts, bending over to grab papers and always saying "Good morning Mr. Price!" In that soft voice.

He knew it was partially wrong. An almost 16 year difference between you. But he couldn't stop his hand from brushing against your waist to guide you into his room, to fix your hair, brush a loose eyelash from your plump cheek. The way you'd stutter and flush.

"T- Thank you...Sir."

Sir. Oh how he liked that.

And one day he couldn't help it. The way you stumbled into his office, mumbling about forgetting papers in his room. Silly you, he knew it was in your desk, he put it there.

You just wanted an excuse to see him.

"C'mere, maybe I have an extra." He murmured, motioning for you to come closer. You shuffle forward and he pushes away from the desk, standing up from his seat.

You open his desk, humming as your fingers skimmed the pages. His hand lands on your hip and you tense. "A- Ah Sir..." You look up at him, all your heat coming in between your legs. Such a silly girl, you think he didn't notice you rubbing those thick thighs together?

"Shh...need some help?" His head leans in, next to yours, warm breath brushing against your cheek. He smelt like leather, bitter cigarettes and that strong whiskey you knew was in his bottom drawer.

You glance down at the bulge in his jeans and swallow thickly, pushing the desk closed. He presses against you, pushing you into it. Bent over the top as his warm hands rub across your back. Barely muffled whimpers leave your soft lips, rosy cheeks now a bright tomato red.

Such an innocent little thing you were.

His hands go to the front of your jeans. "Get this off yeah?"

You nod quietly, and he kisses the back of your ear. "Want me to go gentle huh? A real man to show you how it's done. An experienced man."

The cool air of his office causes goosebumps to erupt on your smooth legs, rough calloused rubbing over your ass.

"Wet huh? For me?"

"Y- Yes sir." You squeak out, feeling him rut into you. A breathless moan coming from your lips as you squirm. Practically grinding back into his hard length.

He undoes his belt, throwing it aside as he works at the buttons. "Gonna fuck ya nice okay baby? Gonna let you cum first."

You weakly nod, covering your face in embarrassment. "I- I'm a virgin-"

"Oh I know."

His tip kisses your clit, dragging across it as you gasp and sputter. His veiny cock pressing into your soaked pussy, your body shifting to accommodate him. It took a moment to get used to the stretch, leaving you panting and full of want.

He huffs against your ear, chest pressed to your back as he pulls out and pushes back in, rocking and grinding into you. Making pornographic sounds leave your lips as you squirmed.

"Atta girl, take it just like that." He gently praised, holding your hips as he guided your sloppy movements. You were so clueless, unsure of how to move. Don't worry, he'll teach you.

Hes gotten so much more experience than a pretty thing like that, having lost his virginity before you were even in kindergarten. He'll put a pretty rock on your hand and a baby in your belly and keep you nice and comfy.

Not gonna worry about anything with an experienced man like him.

When you come around him, he feels like he's on cloud nine. Shooting thick creamy ropes of cum into your wanting hole. Rubbing your sides gently as he pulls out with a sickening slurp sound.

Youre shuddering, shaking on his desk as he replaced your underwear. Giving a gentle love tap to the swell of your ass.

"There ya go...good huh?"

You stand up shakily and nod.

"Y- Yes sir...I'll...go work on my papers."

You waddle out of his office, hoping that no one will notice your unsure steps.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

-

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

-

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

-

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

-

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

-

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

-

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

-

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

-

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

-

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

-

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

-

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

@hb8301 @that-girl-named-alex @bat-revival @dahlias-and-marigolds @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @padfooteyes @missusnora @bluebirdonafencepost @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @sarahkimtae @imjustboredso @howdoichangemynameto @hopebaker @yelenabeleovapocket @let-love-bleeds-red @maximizedrhythms @xideshiz @siriusdumblittlepuppy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @lemonivall @anisa269 @flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @elles-mind-palace @dragonfireandpixiedust @glitterandgoldfinds @daydreamerblues @tswiftsthings @kitkat-writes-stuff @miraclealignertlsp369 @cryztalline @im-obsessed-with-marvel @fluffiy @kotonei-molyneux @natie335 @killjoynotes @mariahossain @bellstwd

[floshav]

more rodrick PLSSSSS it can be anything

omg this is my first req ever and im so excited thank you!!

you wanted more Rodrick well here's more Rodrick.

part 2 out now!!

summary: Rodricks your best friend but thats not enough for you. As much as you hate to admit, you like the boy. That's why you show up drunk and high at one of his infamous house parties after he'd ranted to you about how he was so so in love with Heather Hills.

warnings: angst, heartache, kissing, Heather Hills, pining, weed, alcohol, crying, one sided love kinda, self hate

wc: 1k+

"She was so pretty."

"Oh yea?"

"No. I dont think you understand, like the way her hair smelled when she strut past me, the smell of..... smell of something light. Fresh! Pink even."

Rodrick practically had stars in his eyes when he described how his crush was at school. You'd be ecstatic if the crush was you, but the world is cruel so here you were talking about Heather Hills for the last hour or so.

"Y'know... I heard she spat on Louise last week. Poor kid, was dosed in her icky saliva for the whole day." Y/n was selfish but she tried to paint Heather in a bad light.

"Shit i'd pay good money for her to spit on me."

Well that backfired she thought.

"Freak" Y/n lightly laughed as she fell back onto Rodricks soft bed. Chest heaving up and down whilst her mind felt clouded.

"What can I say, love makes anyone a freak."

There was that word again. Love. How could he be bloody in love with little miss Heather Hills. The queen of highschool. The perfect girl. Pretty blondie. Pretty face. Y/n quickly began to realise there were plenty of reasons for Rodrick to crush on her. Y/n was a nobody. She thought her face ugly, her style wack, her eyes too uneven. She hated, hated, hated herself and wished she looked like Heather.

"Oh. My. God. I just had the best fucking idea" Rodrick exclaimed with the dorkiest smile he could produce, each fine line below the thickness of his eyebrows seen under the dim lighting of his room.

"Hmm?" Y/n buzzed as she basked in the coolness of his sheets

"M'gonna throw a party" "Heather would definitely come, i mean its one of my parties we're talking about."

Flashbacks to Rodrick's last party hit y/n's head like a train when she remembered how chaotic and horrible the experience was. Drunk teens shouting and chugging unknown beverages, shoulders brushing against shoulders constantly as she tried to find a room she could breath in without having to see another damn couple absolutely devouring eachother. Each and every minuscule second she'd spent in that house made her want to puke. The sight that made her want to puke the most was Rodrick's clearly drunk self throwing himself onto Heather, eyes sparkly with hope whilst she just sat there smiling so sweetly it was sickening.

Quickly she was sent back to reality.

"D'you think that's a good idea?" she questioned, tired.

"Course it is! she always comes to my things"

"Kay' whatever you think is gonna earn you your little dream girl specimen."

"Trust me, this times different." That's what he always said.

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

It's ok. It's ok. I-It's.... it's gonna be fine. she told herself as she admired the makeup she'd put on for tonight's occasion, she'd tried to copy one of Heathers famous looks, but quickly realised it didn't suit her skin so she stuck to her usual and hated herself for it. It was dreadfully the day of his party. The day that she'd have to witness him openly flirt with Heather just because he had an excuse to down a dozen bottles of cheap booze. She swiped a smear of lipstick that somehow ended up below her lip and sighed as she adjusted her shirt. Why do you always give in? Just confess you idiot. No! what the fuck am i thinking. she scrunched her nose and took a deep breath in, abusing her vanity with the pressure from the pads of her fingers.

She really really didn't want to go. She couldn't bare seeing Heather show up with her annoyingly perfect face, her perfect nose, her perfect hair, her stupidly sweet personality that everyone gaped over. Fuck it. She hated herself and wanted to forget that Rodrick even existed.

She found her not so hidden stash of weed she'd carelessly left under a pile of worksheets from her chemistry class, something ionic bonding. She didn't know how long it'd sat there for but it stained the ziplock bag a dull yellow. The bag was crinkled and smelled like the thought of Rodrick. Whenever she was upset or mad at Rodrick she'd smoke weed to drown the thoughts out but she slowly realised it was ruining the drug as a whole for her.

She rolled a joint in a random piece of paper she'd found thrown on her floor and lit up the end, taking a deep whiff of it, smile playing on her lips.

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

"Animals.....Elephants....Tiguurrrsssss!" She slurred as she laid flat on her disheveled bed scrunching the sheets as her eyes formed stars around her ceiling. She got up abruptly, hair a mess and rubbed her eyes deepening the pressure with every second. "Rrrr... What time? Uggggh" She sighed as she reached for her phone. Her room was cloudy and smelled of green. Beside her were a few empty glasses so she took a sniff, curious. Happy juice? No, Vodka she thought. She saw the emptied out bottle of cheap convenience store alcohol by the side of her feet a long with the yellowed bag of weed which was empty. it'd been around 2 hours since she blacked out on her bed somehow thinking about how her fan looked like the shape of animals. Shit, fuck, ass, asshole! she muttered under her breath as she plopped back down.

"Why not? What's thurrr worst that could happennn?" she mumbled eyes fluttering as she picked up her bag and stumbled out her window, careful not to wake anyone. She took the route down the tree that always worked for her but in a clumsy fashion as she fumbled down the hard branches of her overgrown escape buddy. Craaack, Creeeeak. The continuous sounds made her annoyed. "Uggggfh can't everyone just shut up!!"

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

There she was. Standing dumb, drunk and high in front of the booming house lit up by warm yellow light. She could already smell the familiar smell of cheap alcohol, body odour and weed. My kind of night she thought as she barely made her way to the entrance. There were already people outside partying like no tomorrow as some flipped their hair to some overplayed hip hop song that everyone knew. While some were more restricted, sipping on booze as they giggled with their friends. The true highschool experience y/n thought.

Bump.

"Hey! Watch it-"

"Y/n?"

It was someone with beautiful waves of blonde still visible from her clouded vision, pretty makeup and a perfect body. Heather.

"O-Oh hey Heather! Pretty little Heather Hills." Y/n slurred as her vision was still blurred

"Uhm... Y'alright?" She questioned looking back at her friends as if y/n was cuckoo.

"No. No. No. No! Y-you. You. You and your stupidly perfect self can go to hell!" y/n lashed out

"W-what? Y/n what the fuck is wrong with you?" Heather said clearly freaked out by the sudden aggression.

Tears started to cloud y/n's vision so she took in a deeeeep breath trying to suck in as much oxygen as she could.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You- You're all he wants. Heather, heather, heather! My perfect little heather with her pretty little face!" Y/n cried out as her knees began to weaken. She had no sense of shame, embarrassment or anxiety. She was too blacked out for this. So blacked out she just blurted her deepest darkest thoughts.

A crowd began to form around them, some curious at the sudden shouting girl who was crumbling a part, vulnerable in front of some people she didn't even know the names of.

"W-what? What are you even saying y/n." Heather said confused and disturbed as she began to back away.

Warmth began to spread at the small of y/n's back. Rodricks hand.

"Y/n? Why the fuck are you screaming?- Y/n s-shit you're not alright." Rodrick hastily slung y/n's arm around his shoulder careful with her as if she was a piece of fine china.

"S-sorry bout' that Heaths, trust me she doesn't mean anything she's saying" Rodrick stutters clearly not drunk enough, nervous as he realises that Heather is clearly agitated.

"Y-yea. It's okay Rodrick. It's not your fault, just get her far from here kay?" Heather said with sympathy and those stupid doe eyes whilst placing a hand on his shoulder. This should've made him tremble with pleasure, but the fact that she'd talked about y/n as if she was a monster made him angry.

"Yea. Yea alright." Rodrick scoffed, lightly rolling his eyes before dragging y/n's blacked out figure up his carpeted staircase, the carpet grazing her knees creating a friction which burned satisfyingly on her kneecaps.

"Fuuuck. Fuck..." Y/n softly mumbled, head tilting to the side of his shoulder as he firmed his grip on the side of her shoulder. Shoulders.... shoulders are for friends, real girls get hands put on their waist. Not shoulders. She managed to conjure the thought in her hazed mind.

He struggled to open his door as y/n's body weight pressed into the side of him as he suddenly heard silent weeps of sorrow erupt from her lips.

He set her on the foot of his bed, careful not to drop her anywhere harsh.

"Y/n? Y/n what's wrong, you're like black out drunk." He asked now bending down with both hands on his knees.

He slowly caresses his hand over the hill of her cheekbone and shoves a fly of hair away from her puffy eyes.

"You....i... Im sick of you and- and her." She sighs as a hysterical tear falls from her eye. Her face was the saddest Rodrick had ever seen and this broke his heart.

"Me and... me and who y/n?" He said so softly as he began to crouch so so close to her, his eyes looking up into hers with genuine curiosity and care. The mention of her name fluttered her heart.

"Heather" She breathed out involuntarily sniffling.

"You don't like me talking about her?" He slowly asked as if all the dots were finally clicking together.

"That's a stupid question." He lowly chuckled as he swiped his thumb under the pad of her eyes.

"I.. I really- I really"

"You really what?" He said again so so softly

"I really like you." She blurted before she felt that familiar rush of heat rapture her face.

Rodrick's eyes glance down to her swollen lips and he feels a strong ache pill at his heart. His best friend just confessed about her underlaying fondness of him and he'd been an ass talking about Heather all the time. He imagined how bad it must've sucked all the damn time.

"I-I'm so sorry I- I always talked about her."

"No! don't fucking be sorry you idiotttt." She slurred

"You- You don't owe me anything." She smiled softly as she fluffed up his hair.

"Maybe..." This is wrong he thought

"Maybe i do owe you an apology." He said slow and steady as he glanced down to her lips and locked with it for the final time.

He slowly moved in to plant a soft kiss on her puffy lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

The kiss felt like heaven and she tasted like everything he was used to. A hint of cherry chapstick, a lot of weed and something coconut. His lips felt so soft against hers and she breathed in every second of the experience. She almost wanted to whine when he pulled away.

"I- Fuck."

Y/n's euphoric high was quickly ruined at the notice of him clearly regretting his decision.

"No- It's fine Rodrick. I get it, it was just a in the moment thing." She sighed as she put both her hands to her face rubbing her cheeks and eyes as if she was trying to rid off the pain in her heart.

"No, no, no! it's not that."

"I just..."

"Fuck it." He went in for another kiss.

--------------------------(end)

thank u for the request!! i hope this was enough to satisfy ur rodrick need lol, if u ever want a smutty end to this lmk but yarrrrr

[arabellavernierwrites]

pelvic floor relaxation. s.r.

summary : after sex with spencer , you begin experiencing pain , he helps you through it.

word count : 803

warnings : mentions of sex , mentions of pain after sex , discussion of some female anatomy

a/n : hello everyone ! welcome back ! sorry i’ve been gone for a few weeks , i have been taking summer courses and haven’t had much time to write. but i am still accepting requests and would really love for you all to send some in so please ! send some requests i love writing for you ! and for me. this idea randomly came to me this evening and i wanted to write something small about it for you all to read. i am not a doctor , if you are experiencing pain after intercourse i do recommend speaking with a professional (and always pee after sex like i mention here !). take care of yourselves , i’ve missed you guys , it’s lovely to be back. have an amazing wonderful incredible day ! love you guys !

quietly catching your breath, you swung your leg over to the side, tossing yourself onto the bed from straddling spencer’s lap.

his long arms reached out, pulling you in close as you faced him, “how are you feeling?”

“good. you were wonderful, sweetheart. thank you,” you softly tucked his hair behind his ear, tracing your finger down the length of his cheek, “how about you?”

“great,” he blushed, breaking eye contact and smiling to himself, “thank you”.

he placed a gentle kiss on your lips. admiration was evident in his gaze, it practically dripped from his supple skin.

you and spencer were intimate fairly often. of course he had always been fantastic in bed, but when the two of you first met, he was rather inexperienced. it didn’t take you both long to learn what worked for the other, and after a few more times together, he pleased you in ways that men were not often able to do.

how good he was wasn’t the most important thing, though. it was the care, communication, and gentility that mattered most to you. no matter how many times the two of you had sex, he always wanted to make sure you felt safe, comfortable, and satisfied.

the same went for you. you always wanted spencer to feel good, and found ways to care for him during sex that made the experience even more pleasurable for him.

“i’m going to grab us some water, okay?” he stated quietly, caressing his large hand from your shoulder to elbow.

you nodded, a small smile on your face as you got up to go to the bathroom.

the two of you helped each other into some comfortable clothes, spencer a pair of pajamas, you a t-shirt and some underwear. a quick peck was shared before parting again.

you winced, a tight cramp pulling at your lower pelvic area. on occasion, you had experienced some post-coital soreness, but this sensation was different. feeling your muscles constrict, you bent over slightly to see if it would relieve some of the pain.

you brushed it off for a moment, using the restroom and making your way back into the bedroom when you were struck with a wave of it again.

spencer was placing a glass of water on your nightstand when he looked up, a flash of worry striking his face upon seeing you hunched over, holding your lower abdomen and resting against the doorway.

“are you alright, baby?” he asked, rushing over to you.

“i’ve got this weird feeling,” you spoke as he wrapped his arms around you, helping you into the bed, “my muscles keep cramping, it’s like a really tight, pulling sensation”

you placed your head on the pillow, closing your eyes for a second to focus yourself. spencer brushed the hair off of your forehead, taking a seat next to you.

“have you had enough water today?” he asked sincerely, placing a hand on your side.

“of course,” you replied, nodding your head.

“did you workout?” he continued, ready to get to the bottom of your discomfort.

“yesterday, yes. today, no, i didn’t” you responded.

“did you relax your pelvic floor before we had sex?” he questioned.

“spencer!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his interrogation.

“i’m being serious!” he defended, brushing your shirt off of your lower stomach, massaging circles with his thumb, “it’s important to take time to relax your pelvic floor before sexual intercourse. it can help increase vaginal lubrication, as well as increase blood flow for better orgasms, and reduce the risk of muscle straining”.

“what would i do without dr reid telling me what to do about my vaginal issues,” you grinned, shaking your head.

“i’m not telling you what to do! i’m giving you advice based on my readings,” he shrugged his shoulders as you laughed at his readings, because of course he would have his readings, “don’t laugh at my readings”.

“i’m not, you’re just cute,” you teased, “how would i relax my pelvic floor?”

“if you place one hand on your chest, and the other on your stomach, you can breathe in intervals to help it return to it’s resting rate. there are also a series of stretches and different sets of clitoral exercises that i can walk you through next time if you would like,” he rambled, his tender touch never leaving your skin.

“i might have to take you up on that,” you shifted uncomfortably at the feeling in your abdomen.

“but in all seriousness, what can i do for you?” he asked, a genuine look wiping across his face.

“i think an advil will help,” you placed your hand on top of his, ceasing the moving of his thumb, “and a hug and a kiss when you get back”.

a small, well-meaning smirk graced his lips, “deal”.

[sennamaticart]

Every New Years, I like to show off some of the art that never got posted during the year! I think its important to know not everything makes it through to the final stage, but its always good to keep track of your work!

Explanations under the read more!

One of the many unicorn drawings I made this year, I was SUPER dedicated to making something that echoes the design of a halberd. When I was making it, it ended up feeling like I was going through the motions and I lost sight of the original idea. It ended up being finished, but I never posted it because it felt like it wasn't good enough to stand alongside my other works in the series!

A little doodle of Uncle Stinky and I from early January! I really DO like this one, and would have posted it if it were more substantial. I'm hoping to maybe repurpose it into a bigger collection of my diary comics instead of letting it rot on my hard drive for no reason!

Another Uncle Stinky drawing. I actually think I might've posted this one somewhere on twitter or Instagram, but it didn't seem to make it to tumblr for the same reason as the previous drawing. But fun fact! This was one of the first drawings I made with the Kolormarc brushes that ended up shaping my unicorn art during the year!

Another unfinished Unicorn drawing. This one went through a ton of differently thumbnails over quite a few weeks. I got all the way to the lineart before I burned out on it. I just couldn't decide how I wanted to color it and other work ended up piling up. I would really like to see it through to the finish line in the future.

A collection of photobashed weapons from a DnD campaign. This was the campaign my friend DMed and the same campaign that created Romeo. I made this drawing for a zine we've been working on for a few months. If it ever makes it to finish, I'd love the share the zine with you guys! The weapons are (in order from left to right) a lethal squirt gun, owned by Romeo, a glittery mace owned by Hugh Mongus, a temperature-controlled hook for Captain Hook, and a feather-light sword for Hickory.

The very first thing i made in the Womp 3D software! I don't have much experience with 3D modeling, but it was pretty easy to latch onto the mechanics of this! It was just a simple beast, I still kind of like it!

Another DnD drawing for the same zine as #5. This is a little drawing of an NPC named Rumple, who's some fancy fashion designer who's crossed paths with Romeo in the past. Rumple was really fun to interact with, and the snazziest dresser in the campaign!

A itty bitty Uncle Stinky I made for a super bare-bones pet game i found somewhere? It was so barebones that it's pretty much useless. But hey! If you wanna try it out, I'm hosting it on my (practically unused) neocities page

Some drawings of my friend @finnimate 's DnD character from the same campaign as Zoltan! His name is Angel, and he's a big sturdy triceratops. I love a good dinosaur, but Triceratops are notoriously awkward to draw. I threw this page together just to try it out and see if I could help them settle on a design. I don't think I succeeded, but I like getting to draw Angel anyways :D

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Light At The End | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

You shine bright Brighter than all the stars ... And your perfection even in your mistakes Give affection even when your heart aches

Chan x Nicholas | Those are song lyrics from Alvin and the Chipmunks ;-; | I hope this was to your standards!

WARNINGS: Discrimination, Racism, Could be perceived as self-harm (Nicholas gets hurt twice but is okay with both), anorexia (different for everyone this is based on my experience), I think that's it

I realized I forgot to put warnings, and I am so sorry. (Update 12/22/23 9:20)

Nicholas Ross Master List | Requested: Yes | Of The Tunnel Part 2

"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," Chan whispered. His voice was loud in the silence of his room. Nicholas sat with him with a stuffed frog in his lap.  

They were in their spot again. The place Nicholas first opened up to Chan. The place where Chan swore to help Nicholas find himself.

"What happened?"

You know the phrase, 'Your parents are your first bullies,' right? They told you they did it to prepare you for the world, and it worked. You know the world is cruel, and nowhere is safe for you. Not even your head. Your head is clouded by judgment forced on you as a child.

"Why don't you talk to me?" They whine. They don't realize they follow in their parents' footsteps. They tell your business because it's family, then get angry when you do the same. Isn't that what they taught you?

Nicholas grew up in a world of hate and then got thrown into a world of more hate.

He couldn't handle the ones about his appearance. Why don't they like him? He's tall, has soft skin, has healthy hair, and is happy. He has proper hygiene and cares for his body as much as it allows. 

He was used to the comments about his talent, or lack thereof. He could handle the ones complaining about his spot in Stray Kids. Those were easy because they were true. These cuts weren't deep, and they reminded him of home.

"You did good in practice today," Felix said as he looped his arm through Nick's.

"Only because Minho hyung stayed behind and helped. I'm out of rhythm still," Nicholas denied, shaking his head.

But the ones about his appearance? His mother taught him to be proud of his complexion and how his hair grew from his scalp. So, what was wrong with him? Why don't they like him? Why can't they like him?

"Nicholas?"

Maybe he should get a perm. Is that what it's called? A perm? The thing that gives you curls or takes your curls is a perm, right? Whatever, the stylist will know what he's talking about. It was her idea anyway.

"When will you tame these knots?" The woman groaned as she brushed through Nicholas' hair. It hurt, but he wouldn't say anything. She is the hairstylist. This is her job. It hurt when his momma braided his hair, but it always looked good when done.

"What knots? I brushed and plaited my hair," Nicholas explained, looking at the woman in the mirror. She would be pretty if she stopped glaring. Glaring gave her wrinkles around the eyes and reminded him of those pug dogs.

"We should put a relaxer in your hair. The chemicals will make it straight and fix these knots." She ignored him. She kept talking about his unmanageable hair and how difficult it was to work with him.

Relaxer, that's what it's called, or is it both? Nicholas can't remember. He should schedule one. He couldn't tell the members. Jeongin and Changbin would strangle him before letting him get rid of his curls.

"Nick, can you hear me?"

"Did you hear?" Someone whispered, and Nicholas tilted his head. The mirror showed the two stylists behind him.

"He only washes his hair once a month. Twice if his members help him," She grumbled. 

The woman in front of her grimaced in disgust, "Could you imagine the build-up?"

"What about his stylist?" The first one huffed, leaning to hide from a passing staff. "Don't you think it's selfish making her deal with the dirt?"

Maybe the relaxer will help make wash days easier. Simple wash days meant his hair could be washed frequently. 

His eyes were stinging again. 

"Don't rub your eye so hard," Chan scolded as he yanked Nicholas' arm away from his eye. The pull sent a pain up his shoulder, but it's okay. "You still have your contacts in."

Contacts? Oh, the new ones he got from Nicki. After one of the members gave her his account information, she would put money in his account and order things for him. A sweet woman, she is.

For some reason, these contacts prevent him from crying. He likes them.

"Is this about the comments?" Chan whispered. He knew? Of course, he knows. If Chan knows, then Minho knows. Minho finds these things before everyone.

Nicholas still can't find the strategy in Minho's methods.

"Nicholas?" 

He did it again. He fell down the rabbit hole. He needs to stop doing that. Did he eat today? He skipped breakfast cause he had an early practice. He promised Hyunjin he would eat later after vocal lessons. He drank a smoothie and ate an apple. 

Technically, he didn't lie. Hyunjin would still be mad, though.

"I need to eat something," Nicholas said, more like croaked. Had he been quiet this whole time?

"You're hungry?" Chan asked.

"No." But he knew he needed to eat something. He was doing so well. He ate two meals and four snacks yesterday. And he didn't throw up. He forgot to tell Nicki about that. 

Too late now. Progress gone.

"I'm proud of you." Maybe it was how soft Chan said. Or it could have been because of the raw emotion in his voice. But a quiet, pathetic sound left Nicholas' lips, and his fists tightened around the frog. Gentle hands guided him to warmth. 

You would think he'd be used to this by now. Comfort through touch or even words. He didn't have that from his parents, and his sister didn't know how to be gentle until they were older.

"I'm proud of you."

There it was again. The phrase that broke him. The phrase that scared him. He used to think love was conditional.

But a genuine love, platonic or romantic, is unconditional, even when it hurts. That's why it hurts to move on or forget.

He was moving now. Where is he going?

"Go to sleep, Nick," Chan whispered. Oh, he's being carried. That's why it's so warm. They're going home? He missed home. He wondered how they were doing.

"Thank you, Starlight," Nicholas whispered.

"You're welcome."

Nicholas Ross Master list | Of The Tunnel Part 2

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, @foxilsdenn, @rensahazard, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

[joocomics]

i keep talking but this is the last one for now. i haven't had a decent sleep for a week cuz this stupid project i should've started after the prof announced it. i regret it but at least i finished it. another project to do again 🥹 it's neverending with the midterms.

idk if you did this but do you have any thoughts on somno for the members? i think jiseok would be up for this especially with his cockwarming obsession i swear.

- 🫧

# xdinary heroes + consensual somno

i do cause i can see all of them be open to this! after you talk about trying it sometime all of them would go for it sooner or later

♡ gunil

i see him as a big morning sex type of guy, so he definitely likes waking you up with his cock. fucking first thing in the morning helps him feel refreshed and energised for the rest of the day, and it happens frequently. most likely that’s why one day you tell him there’s no need to always wait for you to wake up, he can just use you to cum and get on with his day

you, wanting him to use you in your most vulnerable state for his own pleasure, the gentle toying with your clit and ass that you’re not even aware of, the surprised gasp you make once you wake up from him reaching your sweet spot - he loves it all, and every time he does it he takes a few clips so he can show you what you missed

♡ jungsu

he loves the idea of turning you on in your sleep. he doesn’t even necessarily feel the need to fuck you, he just wants to worship your body, kiss you up and down and eventually turn you carefully on your back to use his tongue till you start moaning in your sleep

he does it to make the experience fun for you more than for himself. he thinks you’re adorable when you wake up close to cumming from his fingers with your eyelids heavy, your hair messy and your voice deep and raspy from how sleepy you are; he also enjoys the first few seconds of surprise after you open your eyes and you have trouble getting used to the intense rush that he built in your tummy

♡ jiseok/gaon

you are damn right - cockwarming is one of jiseok’s kinks for multiple reasons, and on days when he’s exhausted from work he loves napping with his cock inside you. sometimes you plan it and that’s how you fall asleep together as he spoons you, but sometimes you fall asleep first and he pulls down your shorts to sneak his erection in letting the warmth of your cunt relax him until he drifts off to sleep too (just to wake up fifteen minutes later and start thrusting till he cums)

he also loves it when you wake him up by sucking his tip or straight up bouncing on his cock. he gets really turned on when you don’t shy away from getting what you want. however, you get to do what you wish to him while he’s asleep, but after he wakes up there’s a high chance he’s turning you over and not being vanilla at all

♡ seungmin/o.de

i see him taking more time to do this with you after you have the talk in comparison to other members perhaps. it’s when he catches you having a wet dream the realisation that this is the perfect moment to try it out hits him. he starts by gently brushing his lips over your shoulder as you sleep on one side, your quiet whimpers make his cock twitch, and his mind curious to know if you’re getting wetter from your dream

he ends up loving it cause the way you clench around him while you’re asleep feels even more exciting; the vulnerability and the intimacy of it is another thing that plays a big part of why he finds it hot

he praises you despite knowing you probably won’t hear the compliments until he slides it in

♡ hyeongjun/junhan

i think he prefers you practicing somno on him. he likes being used for your own personal pleasure, and he finds it exciting knowing you can randomly decide to sit on his cock while he’s asleep

he has a good time giving it to you when he wakes up with a morning wood of course, but the thrill of you playing with it as you wish while he’s still dreaming hits different for him. he loves opening his eyes to you already licking up his pre cum, ready to get yourself off by riding him as quick as possible

♡ jooyeon

if you sleep only in oversized t-shirts or nightgowns (with or without panties) there’s no way the thought of somno hasn’t crossed his mind. often when he catches you sleeping on your tummy with your ass exposed he gets the urge to squish it and push himself in. i won’t be surprised if this is some of his favorite type of porn to watch to be quite honest, i see this as a turn on for him

he loves it even more when he’s the one who’s sleeping. as a passionate lover of lazy sex he enjoys himself to the fullest when he can chill and you do the work. that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t tease you or command you after he wakes up from your mouth around his cock though. if you’re going to disrupt his nap you have to be ready to deep throat him until you’re out of breath and he always lets you know that

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Autistic Steve Rogers my beloved 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Steve who just thought he was different. He didn’t really care too much, too worried about the fact that his body was constantly failing, the money that wasn’t there that needed to be there, the fact that his Momma was gettin’ sicker by the day. Who cares that he can’t understand most of the other kids at school.

Then, he wakes up. His baby’s gone, his life is gone. And for some reason, he still ain’t got a clue how to talk to people. He sorta thought Erskine would fix that, but… maybe be don’t need fixing?

Sometimes he hates being this way. When he does press conferences and has to wear special contacts that Tony designed so that the lights don’t get to him so much, and the earplugs (also Tony) that make it so he processes noise better. During said press conferences, he has to have Nat next to him to basically translate. He feels like he’s crazy some days. A lot of days. 

Other times, he wants to cry over the stupidest things. Why do the tags on my clothes feel like claws? Why does the taste of a certain food make him want to crawl out of his skin? Why can’t he be normal?!

Bucky comes back, and Steve clings to him. Bucky knows, Bucky understands. Bucky knows that sometimes physical touch drives him up the wall, and that sometimes he craves being hugged until it feels like he’s being crushed. Bucky doesn’t judge him when he can’t make eye contact, when he has to hole up under piles of covers because the world is too much. Instead, Bucky just makes him his favorite food, gives him his big headphones and weighted blanket, and holds him tight if he feels up to it.

Steve Rogers, who shows little kids like him that it does get better, and that they’ll be okay. 

No, but there really is something about Steve that makes so much sense when compared to the signs and experience of autism!!

(Also, generally, that's something I love so bad about Steve's arc and character. You can apply so many lenses to him and see his story as an allegory for so many different things. Queerness especially.)

"Steve who just thought he was different. He didn’t really care too much, too worried about the fact that his body was constantly failing, the money that wasn’t there that needed to be there, the fact that his Momma was gettin’ sicker by the day. Who cares that he can’t understand most of the other kids at school."

YES

I agree wholeheartedly that he doesn't need fixing. However, when he first wakes to the future, he probably just brushes it off because it's been so many years. Of course, he can't talk to people! There's nothing going on with him. It's an excuse to bury the tugging feeling of being different that he sometimes hates so much 🙃

Ooh, and that's so interesting--the contacts and earplugs. I'm always so intrigued to think about Steve's hyperattuned senses and those being affected by his autism, too, would, I can only be imagine, make shit like press conferences practically agonizing. Sandpaper against his skin. Special contacts and covert earplugs would probably do him a lot of good!

Speaking of Steve's superhero responsibilities interacting with his autism in layers, I bet those sensory overload/texture issues/clothing sensitivities get so much worse post-mission when he's adrenaline crashing. And now I'm picturing him crying and twisting violently around to rip himself out of his cap suit, and I just hurt my own feelings. Oof.

But Bucky being back, yes!

Bucky understands, and it's enough for Steve. And, maybe, if you're thinking that Steve has no idea why he works the way he does since he probably wouldn't've been diagnosed in the 20s, he could encourage him to seek a diagnosis. I enjoy the headcanons that Bucky, being a science nerd, would adapt to modern technology faster, so maybe he finds online others' experiences with autism or whatnot? And I get that being diagnosed is controversial within neurodivergent communities, but I do imagine having a formal one, as a national icon, would have profound ripple affects on Americans and Steve might seek it out, if not for understanding himself, then for the greater good and lessening of stigma. Exactly what you wrote-!

"Steve Rogers, who shows little kids like him that it does get better, and that they’ll be okay."

I hadn't read that yet when I wrote about him being an example, lol, but great minds think alike.

Anyway, yes! Thank you very much for the thoughts <3

P.S. I think you'd like these @turtle-steverogers posts about autistic Steve Rogers here and here

[astropookie]

analyzing my solar return chart

practically spitting arguments on why I’m on my healing era. there’ll be part 2 if you liked it 💋

love you all🫶🏼 sending kisses ‼️🧚‍♀️🌈✨

Pluto 12H

Pluto on solar return chart represents emotional/physiological growth, transformation and how you confront the area of life the sign and house this planet is positioned. 12H signifies the area or things you try to avoid, what’s hidden, psychological issues, the subconscious. could mean being conscious about yourself on an introspection manner, deep analysis. specifically, if last year you’ve had struggle of taking care of your mental health and in this solar return you’ve recently took action and searched for the “origin”, for what could help to stay better or improve it. Also could mean -since my experience- to “open your eyes” about familiar or ancestral issues that can be cut and treated by yourself.

Jupiter 3H

Jupiter on sr chart points out what you’ll expand on that period of time, abundance and way of expression. 3H indicates communication, mental stimulation, extreme curiosity or interest on various topics, being open to listen to opinions that were rejected before. basically, on this period, communication is your way of express your needs, passions, what bothers you. being healthy, direct, you’ll learn and will try your best? you’ll expand your knowledge. you could be more histrionic or spontaneous, people could accept or be intrigued by your mindset or behavior.

Uranus 4H

Uranus indicates change, the unexpected/unpredictable, different from what you’re comfortable. 4H representing family, home, traditions, domestic stuff. change on family dynamic and situations. to put you in context, if you’ve always were conflicted about the basis of your household, manners and tradition, about your place, to feel part of it. this sr you’re fighting for your truth respecting to your emotions and feelings to be part of your family.

Chiron conjunct North Node

Chiron in sr represents the area of difficulties in this period of time, weaknesses that you’ll like to avoid bc it’s complex to treat them. could also mean how or in what you’ll get hurt -even tough I don’t like the idea 😭-. North Node in sr indicates the are of life you’ll be more challenged and therefore, being able to growth. by this two being in conjunction, signifying the energies of both are concentrated. basically, this solar return im gonna be able to not avoid the issues I’m more afraid to uncover and not only work on it but will be able to do it good, like when you’ve seen moo but it’s too disgusting to clean it but you’ve decide to finally clean it with an old brush rough -best example😍-.

Mars conjunct Part of Fortune

one of the things Mars represents in sr chart it’s passion, action and ambition, instincts, and where the energy characterized for the ones mentioned before is projected and also into our goals this period of time. Part of Fortune in sr indicates where you’ll be lucky and successful, your potential. this aspects evidences that I’ll success directing my passion trough my goals.

Moon sextile Saturn

this screams “from being mentally inestable from trying to be mentally stable”. this period of time I’m gonna be more analytical and responsable, organized. Saturn is characterized by “control”, wanting to be in control, etc. this could also mean you’re getting stressed for little things but also you’ll want everything to be “okay” -whatever that means to you-, counting yourself -not saying 100% but at least you’ll tried once to discover wtf is wrong with you jk, your traumas, what bothers you, I’m willing to affirm that bc of this you’re gonna be able or learn how to persuade people on doing what you want. depends on the pure soul of yours 😩

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer, I just love astrology and I’m willing to learn…

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[misc-obeyme]

what do you think mammon and barbatos do for dates

like barb is a very busy demon obviously, and mammon is clingy (me too man) and like

do you think he gets sad sometimes when barb is so busy

And one day he goes to barb and is like "i miss you" "I know. I apologize, it seems I've had more errands to run than usual" "take me with you" "excuse me?" "Take me with you to run errands. I promise I'll help. I just miss you."

would barbatos be reluctant because he's not sure how this would go, and he doesn't think it'd be an enjoyable experience??

cut to the actual day and Mammon insists on driving and he's practically bouncing in his seat because he's giddy. Meanwhile on his face he's trying to look unbothered

And imagine it's a grocery store run for the week and barbatos sends Mammon to grab things, and Mammon zooms off and eagerly presents said item

If it's the right item, Barbatos would smile and maybe rub his arm or brush his fingers against his cheek. Or a head pat (Because that mf loves head pats). I'm not sure what Barb would be okay with affection wise when in public 😭

Or if it's the wrong item he'd be like "That's close, Mammon. They look similar but it's actually *insert difference description*. Here's a picture. "

Like that tweet that's "i am going to get a good grade in therapy, which is something that is possible to achieve and normal to want"

Mammon wants a good grade in being helpful

he's refraining from getting distracted by sales or deals, maybe texts Lucifer good one's to remember. Gets distracted in the ice cream aisle (barbatos makes a note to stop for a treat later for the two of them)

Because now he's getting things done quicker than he anticipated and he actually has free time at the end of the day!

this is me rambling per usual, I'm not confident in writing how any of the characters are lolol but I'm thinking about this at work. Send help

OKAY BYE HAVE A GOOD DAY !!!

Ahhhh I love all of this!! They're so cute omg~

I absolutely love the idea of Mammon helping Barb with his work, especially the shopping together thing. Like that's just really precious and it feels like it'd be entertaining enough for Mammon that he wouldn't get bored and get into trouble lol.

I'm just imagining how he'd be if he had to like... help dust the castle or something. And like if they were alone? He'd get too distracted by Barb to get anything done.

But if they were shopping? That's perfect, imo!

I also like to think that Barbatos plans out special date nights for them. Like he just informs Diavolo that he's taking the night off and Diavolo's just like yup okay go have fun with your boyfriend~

Sometimes I think Barbatos wants to go to specialty grocery stores that have super fancy teas and such things. But they're far away, so either the two of them take a train or Mammon drives them.

When they get more established with each other, the whole thing becomes a regular routine. Like after a while, Barbatos can't imagine making his weekly grocery run without Mammon. They work in tandem and get everything done so fast, they always have extra time. After they get back to the castle, they put everything away and then it's like well now that everything's done and it's still early...

Sigh. I love them when they're like newbies with each other and it's all intense and they're kinda feeling each other out. But I also like to think about them after it's been some time and they're an established couple, you know? They just get each other.

AH. I fear I was not helpful but instead may have made things worse a;lskdfjf

[shunin-gumis]

Mistery on the Moonlit Passage - Track EP

Seasonal Event Story

Case closed! Hope you enjoyed this silly event 🚢

Location: Cruise Liner - Sky Deck

Toi: Look, Ani-sama! HAMA’s port is sparkling! It’s so pretty…

Ryui: Yeah, but it’s nothing compared to the radiance of your existence itself. Is the sea breeze too cold? Here, put my jacket on.

Akuta: Yoo, I get it. Eating in a place like this just ups the vibes AND the flavor.

Chief: Yeah, this is a wonderful place. Thanks for telling us about it, Nanaki!

Nanaki: Nah, I just thought it’d be a waste to keep it to myself.

Nanaki: (Though, the original plan was to come here alone with the chief… Still, I’m glad I asked…!)

Kafka: Oho. The inside’s pretty rowdy too, but it’s a whole other level here ♪

Nanaki: Ah, Oguro-san.

Chief: Kafka, you’re back. How did your conversation with the owner go?

Kafka: I’ll share now since everyone’s gathered. You can keep eating while you listen, don’t worry.

Kafka: Just now, I proposed a plan called “Snoozing Cruising” to the owner of this ship, and it was very well received.

Yukikaze: Sleep and cruises. What an interesting combination.

Kafka: Guests will be able to experience something different from their everyday lives, and we plan on creating high quality relaxation using Netaro’s. A pretty fresh idea, no?

Yachiyo: Yesh…! The president is so smart! An dumb commoner such as myself with a mindset so fixed it’s practically immovable could never come up with an idea like this one!!!

Yodaka: I see. It may be a rather welcomed form of hospitality for the modern man, exhausted from their everyday lives.

Ryui: I’ll ask just in case, but you aren’t planning on using Yowa’s thing as it is, right?

Kafka: Of course. There was a good chance of everything turning into an even bigger incident if there had been even the slightest mistake. We can’t have something like this happening again.

Kafka: That’s why I plan on asking Netaro to write out a specifications sheet! Because right now, no one is safe, not even the robots.

Netaro: Nyoooo NYOOO!! Having to work overtime ‘cause of a doll meant to help me skip work…

Ryui: Serves you right. Repent for what you’ve done.

Nanaki: U… um, Ryui-san.

Ryui: Whaddya want?

Nanaki: Uh, well, about what happened before…

Ryui: (What…?)

~~~(flashback)

Ryui: …

Ryui: If that’s what you’ve gotta say, then just shut it and get out of my way.

Ryui: If you’re just gonna sit around and do jack shit, then nothing’s ever gonna change. By sticking to the same old crap, you’re just playing safe to avoid getting screwed over.

Nanaki: …But is it really such a bad thing…?

~~~(end flashback)

Location: Cruise Liner - Sky Deck

Ryui: …Hmph.

Nanaki: W-What is it?

Ryui: Nothin’. Just thought your face was finally looking better now.

Nanaki: …I… see. But, thank you.

Ryui: Not like I did anything worth being thanked for.

Muneuji: Speaking of which… as the key to solving this mystery was “music,” this makes Nanamegi the closest person to reaching the truth.

Chief: Really…! You sure gave it your all while we were fast asleep, Nanaki…!

Nanaki: Ah, um, I didn’t do that much… In the end, Yowa-san only spilled because Ryui-san interrogated him into it.

Yukikaze: That being said, you were the only one that noticed what everyone else brushed over. It’s evidence that you’re very mindful of your surroundings.

Muneuji: I agree. Nanamegi is a man who considers all the finer details.

Nanaki: Muneuji…

Muneuji: You’re always able to understand Isotake despite him speaking in sounds, you constantly encourage Kinugawa to speak up and express himself, and you always call out Uu-chan for being uncooperative…

Yukikaze: It’s wonderful how much you think of your friends. I’m proud.

Nanaki: T-That’s enough!! But thanks!!

Nanaki: (These guys are natural older brothers… It’s crazy how straightforward they are with their praises…!!)

Chief: But also… the more considerate a person is, the more likely they are to hold back from expressing their true feelings.

Nanaki: …!

Chief: Nanaki-kun, you don’t have to hold back with me. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind!

Nanaki: Ummm… Okay…

Yukikaze: Same for me, you cute and attentive little brother.

Nanaki: T-Thank you.

Nanaki: (...Though it’s not really out of consideration for others, but more because I don’t wanna get hurt…)

Nanaki: But… anything, huh?

Kafka: By the way… are we planning on heading back now to get some proper rest?

Nanaki: (I don’t have the courage to say it right now—)

Chief: W-We should…! Though most of us did end up getting a good sleep earlier…

Nanaki: (...Something like “Your sleeping face is beautiful, but in my opinion, a smile suits you the best.”)

Nanaki: I hope… I’ll be able to tell you one day.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not responding to someone in rp?

📝 <- to recognize

Also disclaimer this is about to be a very low stakes problem about a very small rp server between friends. If you don’t care then don’t read it’s fine 😂 I just want opinions over something I have some anxiety about. Everyone is in the same age range of about 24-26

Ok, so: basically what it says on the tin, I’m in a small rp server that has nothing to do with fandoms it’s just OCs, mostly dnd stuff. It’s just between me and a couple friends, there has been no serious drama whatsoever and it’s very nice!

We recently added a new member (I’ll call him Blue) who doesn’t have a lot of characters yet, but the handful he does have are… well. Practically all the same character. They have different backstories but all the same personality, which is to say they have none.

Every character of his is entirely neutral all the time, but not as some sort of comedy bit, just as… they are all very Prim And Proper, very intelligent, very unwilling to react to anything at all. No strong emotions about anything even when faced with something extreme like a villain or even a non-evil crazy event. We like to have fun and throw wild dangerous or just funny circumstances at our characters, yet his characters essentially always go ��� “Well. That happened. Anyways.” And brush it all off… unless Blue thinks he can be The Savior of the day. But if he can’t just shut down the whole event, then his characters go back to being totally checked out and uncaring about any of it. He explains this saying that they’re all used to this kind of thing (though their backstories do say otherwise) and one of them is a god so he especially doesn’t need to react to things.

None of this is really the end of the world, it just makes interacting with his characters very difficult for me and a few others. For instance if I throw a villain in for the day, it’s… kinda hard to actually pose a threat when you have a handful of characters just standing there reacting like they’re on The Office. Similarly it’s harder to form emotional connections between characters if one oc pours their heart out and the other says “Well I’m sorry for your experiences” and brings nothing else to the table. There have been a couple instances as well where my friends and I worry that we’ve upset Blue with how our characters react, but like, if one of ours is a naturally rude and antagonistic person, they are going to be rude and antagonistic. Nobody else has a problem with this bc we all do it for variety and sometimes it’s fun to have a little oc drama! But Blue will have his characters react in a slightly guilt trippy way and then just go silent, sometimes explaining or even complaining out of character that their oc was Just Joking or similar. He hasn’t expressed being upset to us and nobody has had an argument about any of this, but the vibes end up feeling… off.

All of this just makes it hard to interact with Blue’s characters. They’re all The Same, they don’t really involve themselves with the rp in a way that garners reaction, and personally I overthink and worry about possibly upsetting him since we’ve all seen how weird things feel after 1 Antagonist Character says 1 Antagonistic Thing. So if I respond to his characters, I tend to respond more blandly than I do with others. Similarly, he has taken to proposing hypothetical ideas about rp and character interaction and then when I don’t immediately have a good response, he tags me and asks how my characters would react to his. I try my best to respond, really, but because there’s nothing there to bounce off of… it’s hard to come up with a good response! And if the response isn’t good enough Blue seems disappointed with it and just drops the whole idea altogether. This is mainly what fuels my anxiety about it, thinking that I’m not doing good enough while also not being given anything good to work with either.

To be clear I do not think he is being an asshole, At least not on purpose. I think there’s a lot of factors that could explain this and it’s honestly not a crime to just not be “good” at rp. What I’m wanting opinions on is should I be trying harder?? I worry that my effort has been affected by a growing distaste for his characters. He’s a lovely person, I have no beef with him lol, but I think it’s gotten clear that I respond more enthusiastically to the others. It’s not intentional, but it’s what happens bc I feel bad ignoring him altogether especially when he tags me specifically for a reaction. I also don’t know if the classic “omfg just communicate” response is very applicable because honestly I think I WOULD be the asshole for messaging him and saying “hey it’s not that I don’t like you it’s just that your characters are not fun to interact with, fix that!” Even in nicer terms than that haha cause in general offering unsolicited constructive criticism even with the kindest intentions is seen as a bad move.

So… AITA for not responding to Blue as much or as enthusiastically as I do for my other friends? Should I be faking it til I make it or does it not need to be an issue until it becomes one?

TLDR: new member of a small rp server joined and all his characters seem to have no personality and are all the same Perfect Intellectual type. There hasn’t been any serious problem but it is hard to interact with them and I am tending to lean toward bland responses bc I don’t feel like I have anything to work with here. Should I be trying harder or is it not a problem until it’s brought up?

What are these acronyms?