#From me who has no father - from the girl who hates hers

[thisismeracing]

Can you please do Mick dating Raikkönen!reader hsc, please?

sure <3 hope u like it, nonny!

Requests are now CLOSED.

MICK DATING A RAIKKÖNEN!READER | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

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Raikkönen!reader just like her father is not in for silly jokes or small talk. She’s direct. If she doesn’t like you she’ll tell it to your face. The opposite is true as well - that’s how she told Mick she liked him after they hung out for a few months;

“I like you.” Short, simple, and direct. So direct that Mick wasn't sure if she meant she liked LIKED him or if she was being friendly, but since the latter was unlikely, he gathered up his courage and asked her on a date;

Though Michael and Mikki raced together, and Mick pretty much grew up inside the racing scene, the same was not reality for Yn. She did like racing, but when she was a kid Mikki and her mother chose to prioritize her privacy and her studies, that's how she wasn't friends with Mick. But once they met, it was a perfect match. Mick was shy at first, so that made him silent, and Yn just wasn't interested in talking. The silence was comfortable, though, and she saw herself walking near the bench he was sitting on and sharing a piece of her granola bar with him. Her dad had seen the friendship unfold, and he nicknamed them 'birds' because they would feed each other silently and then leave only to come up the next weekend with a sandwich, a granola bar, a candy, share in silence, and then leave again;

When Mick finally asked Yn on a date she told her dad and though he used to make fun he ended up feeling jealous - he even suggested that he could go too as if it was a friend meeting, not a date. Yn laughed at the situation, something she didn't do all the time, which made it even more special to those around her;

She sent Mikki a picture after the date. Their faces squished together on the screen of the phone. He could see Mick's arms around her shoulders, but her smile was so bright he couldn't help but feel happy for them;

He has dinner with the Schumachers the next month, minus Mick, of course. And they talk about the likelihood of their relationship becoming serious. They end up choosing to support them, Mikki being pretty sure that Yn wouldn't back down if he told her to, and the same with Mick;

Now, Mikki is a bit unsure of everything at first. He did see Mick grow up. He was friends with his family. But still, it was Yn! His little girl. That doubt went away a few months after they announced the seriousness of their relationship. Older Mick was a fun guy, nothing like the babbling kid nor the grumpy teenager he used to be. So the Schumacher and the older Raikkönen ended up realizing they had a lot in common;

After that, it's always "Where's Mick, Yn? Is Mick coming to the family vacation? Are the Schumis spending Christmas with us? Did you give him the book I handed you?" it's funny even;

Mick calls Yn by Raikki a short for her surname. Sometimes he calls her Rai or even Kiki, she hates the latter, though;

I feel like they would be super private. So much that it took almost a year or so for people to pierce the pieces together;

But being private didn't mean they weren't in love. That they were and the garage they attended quickly picked up from the way Mick would smile at her or how she would laugh around him;

Just black cat and golden retriever vibes, but Mick showed Yn her golden side too (the opposite too because Mick started to stand up for himself a tad more);

You know those couples where at least one has to be the person to tell the waiter they got the order wrong? Now imagine Yn is the one who does it while Mick is there like "I wouldn't mind eating raw meet :(" and Yn is like "I want another dish and I want dessert on the house," super serious while Mick is giving an apologetic look to the employee;

Yeah. hihi

[happylittledrabbles]

Please, Daddy

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Nanami Kento

Character Count: ~8,500K

Rating: Explicit, 18+

AO3

It was a lazy spring afternoon, one that mimicked the dead of summer with its humidity and heat. All the windows were open, but that did nothing to abate the torturous conditions inside the classroom. The curtains blowing offered a promise of some respite, but the wind was just as hot and provided no relief from the blazing temperatures.

Nobara held a small fan to her face while Megumi patted his forehead with a handkerchief, neither of which helped their fatigue.

“This sucks!” Yuji groaned, kicking his feet onto the desk and leaning his chair back.

“You’re going to fall over,” Megumi said, to which Yuji rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, if I was an idiot, maybe,” he retorted. Nobara stuck out her foot and tapped the leg of the chair, giving it that last push it needed to send Yuji toppling backwards onto the floor.

“Oops,” was all Nobara had to say as she watched her friend groan and wriggle around on the floor in pain.

“Kugisaki, you asshole!” he shouted. “As if this day couldn’t get any worse.”

Nobara sighed and got out of her seat, walking over to Yuji and kneeling. She placed a finger on her chin in thought before brightening, her grin catching Yuji off guard. “I know what’ll make you feel better. Let’s gossip about our teachers.”

The three of them huddled in a circle on the floor with Nobara going first.

“Kusakabe,” she offered, with the boys looking up to the ceiling in thought.

“I think he has boner problems,” Yuji said, making Nobara and Megumi wince in disgust. But the more they thought about it, the more it made sense.

“Do you think he takes pills for it?” Megumi asked, but Nobara shook her head.

“I think he’s too ashamed. And then he cries whenever he does it because he can’t get it up, and the woman has to comfort him,” she said, although she quickly regretted it as they all cringed at the image.

“Oh, man, let’s move on,” Megumi said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look at him the same anymore.”

“Let’s do Gojo,” Nobara replied excitedly, to which Megumi swiftly shook his head.

“That’s our main teacher! We have to look at him every day—we can’t do him,” Megumi objected, although it was only half the truth. He already saw Satoru as a father figure, as much as he hated admitting that to himself. He didn’t want to discuss his sex life.

“I think Gojo does hard drugs,” Yuji said, ignoring Megumi’s outburst. “Like, cocaine and stuff. It gets him really wired to do it.”

“Oh, gross,” Megumi whined as he buried his face in his hands.

“What’s gross?”

Speak of the devil. The trio’s heads snapped up as the very man they were gossiping about strode into the classroom, a stack of papers and folders in one hand and a mug that read ‘#1 Teacher’ in the other. He set down his things and placed his hands on his hips as he stared at his students, who were gawking at him as if a curse was eating his face off.

“Hello? Earth to idiots?” he said, snapping in the air to get their attention.

Nobara, ever the quick-witted girl, looked between Megumi and Yuji’s shocked faces and smirked to herself. She had thought of an excuse the second she heard her teacher’s voice, but she liked the idea of messing with all of them better. She cleared her throat and said, “We were gossiping about our teachers.”

“Kugisaki!” Megumi and Yuji’s voices overlapped as they exclaimed in horror, turning their irritation onto her.

However, Satoru wasn’t surprised in the slightest. In fact, he rushed over to the trio and grabbed a chair, turning it backward to sit on it and place his arms on the back of the chair, leaning forward in intrigue. “Oh? One of my favorite conversation topics. Go ahead, shoot. What’d you guys say about me?”

Megumi and Yuji’s faces then morphed into genuine interest as to what Nobara had planned. How was she going to get out of the hole she dug herself?

By answering honestly, of course.

“We said you do hard drugs to do it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Like coke. That really gets you going.”

Satoru stared for a moment, shell-shocked, before dissolving into laughter. He slapped his thigh and hung his head over the chair, the trio laughing along nervously at his strange reaction. Once he finally got ahold of himself, Satoru looked back up and inhaled sharply. “Good guess. What about Nanami?”

“Confirm nor deny. Smart,” Nobara remarked, high-giving her teacher. The boys were less than enthused. However, once she processed Nanami’s name, she barked out a laugh. “Nanami Kento? That guy’s a virgin, one hundred percent.”

“Kugisaki, don’t be mean,” Megumi chastised, but he was the sole objection on that one. Yuji and Nobara fell into bouts of laughter while nodding.

“You’re so right,” Yuji said. “How old is he, forty? No way some straight like him gets anything. Can you imagine him flirting?”

“He’s twenty-seven, and no,” Megumi said with a sigh. He knew he was giving in, but it was true: Nanami didn’t seem to have one romantic bone in his body. He couldn’t even picture him with a woman on his arm—the sight would probably send the three of them into anaphylactic shock.

He watched Nobara and Yuji laughing together before he turned his attention to Satoru, who was staring down at them with an unreadable expression. “You’re awfully quiet, Gojo-sensei. Wouldn’t you know better than all of us about him?”

Satoru choked on his spit at that, coughing into his fist as a prickly blush climbed up his neck and blotched his cheeks. “W-what? Why would you think that? I don’t know Nanami at all like that.”

“You’re both teachers,” Yuji pointed out with a shrug. “Wouldn’t you guys talk in the teacher’s lounge or something?”

Oh, Satoru thought with a sigh of relief. They meant it like that. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping as he played with the bottom of his blindfold. “He’s never mentioned a girlfriend. Or any romantic interest, for that matter. No matter how much I’ve tried seducing him!”

Satoru whined to punctuate the fact that it was a joke to his students, who laughed and pulled disgusted faces at the thought of their beloved teachers kissing. However, Satoru wasn’t telling a joke. He had genuinely tried seducing Nanami on multiple occasions, having had a crush on him since Nanami called him up about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer again and he got to see just how much the blond had grown since they were in school together. The scrawny teen with a terrible haircut he had once known had grown into a muscled, attractive, and stoic man who made people think sinful thoughts just by looking at him.

Satoru could barely believe his eyes, although his pounding heart gave away just what he suspected he was feeling: arousal. He hadn’t felt that sensation in a long time, despite what his students—or anybody, really—thought. Nanami had brought it out of him, and the more he rejected Satoru and treated him terribly, the more Satoru wanted him. Frankly, it turned him on, just how respectable and stable Nanami was. A salaryman who took care of himself, who read and exercised and enjoyed the small things in life. Additionally, the sincere concern he had for his students—for any child—made Satoru want to raise a family with him, a thought he’d never had with anybody, ever.

Nanami was perfect partner material on top of being incredibly sexy. He was perfect. Except for the fact that he hated Satoru’s guts.

“Okay, okay, so Nanami,” Nobara said, pursing her lips together pensively. “I think…he definitely has a hidden kink even though he’s a virgin.”

“I’m going to throw something out there,” Yuji said conspiratorially. “I think he has a daddy kink.”

Satoru’s previous melancholic expression morphed into intense curiosity. He needed all the help he could get, as evidenced by the fact that he was secretly soliciting his students’ help with hopefully romancing Nanami successfully. “You think so? Like, calling people daddy? Or being called that?”

“Being called,” Yuji replied. “No way that guy gives into anybody. He’s as tightly wound as a stretched rubber band. He hates his job, hates being a jujutsu sorcerer, and is a virgin on top of all of that. He’s going to snap at any time.”

The more Yuji spoke, the more Satoru could understand why Nanami was the way that he was. He’d dealt with more trauma than the general population combined, had to submit to his dick boss every day, then deal with more shit in the way of curses. Plus, blue balls would drive any man crazy.

If he needed to snap, so be it—so long as it was with Satoru in the room. And perhaps being called ‘daddy’ would be the driving factor. At that point, Satoru had tried everything. What was one more shot in the dark?

“He’s definitely DILF material,” Nobara said, biting her bottom lip.

Megumi shoved her shoulder so hard that she fell onto the floor in a laughing mess. “You can’t say that about a teacher! You guys are hopeless.”

“DILF?” Satoru asked, tilting his head. “Is this another young person slang word I’m not privy to? You guys make me feel older every day.”

“No way you haven’t heard of DILF,” Yuji said, dumbfounded. “I mean, MILF? It’s just the dad version. Dad I’d like to…you know.”

That woke Satoru up to the fact that he was having this type of conversation with his students, his children. He stood up and swiftly shoved the chair back in its place before taking his place at the front of the classroom.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said, sorting through his materials to ignore the horrid blush flaming his cheeks. “Let’s begin class.”

When the trio left the classroom after their lesson, Satoru thought back to Yuji’s explanation and chuckled. He had found a way to seduce Nanami. It was far-fetched, but he had exhausted everything else. And he was going to use it.

The only way to get Nanami to hang out with him was to show up wherever he was unexpectedly and follow him around until he relented. Nanami wasn’t exactly rude. He’d speak to Satoru, albeit sparingly. But Satoru couldn’t shake the fact that they weren’t spending time together—he was just following Nanami while he was doing chores.

Not this time. He was going to force Nanami to spend time with him. Which led him to standing on Nanami’s doorstep with a six-pack of beer in one hand and a movie CD in the other.

When Nanami opened the door, he barely got out a ‘hello?’ before his face dropped upon seeing Satoru.

“Don’t look so excited to see me, old pal,” Satoru said, but he couldn’t hide the sharp pain in his chest on his face. Luckily, he had his black blindfold on, which at least hid half his facial expressions. “Surprise! We haven’t hung out in so long, I decided I’d drop by for a movie night.”

“We’ve never hung out,” Nanami said tiredly. Had he been sleeping? He was in sweatpants and a black T-shirt, a casual look Satoru had never seen him in before. It did nothing to hide the lust building in his stomach just at the sight of Nanami. He thought he was attracted to Nanami in suits, but perhaps a simple pair of sweatpants was all he needed to fold over. It did a great job at highlighting Nanami’s crotch, anyhow.

“Well, let’s start now!” Satoru said, pushing past Nanami into his apartment since he knew Nanami would never invite him in. He set the beer on the coffee table in front of the couch before settling on the floor to pop the CD into the player. “I rented us Inception. I heard it’s really good.”

“It is,” Nanami said, shutting the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared down at Satoru, not moving from the front door. “I’ve watched it. It’s also almost three hours long.”

“Yay, three hours we get to spend together!” Satoru said with a clap. “Come on, sit down, let’s drink.”

“You don’t drink,” Nanami remarked. He glanced up at the ceiling before closing his eyes with a sigh. After running a hand down his face, he relented and walked over, sitting on the floor across the table from Satoru.

“So I don’t,” Satoru said and tried not to show the excitement on his face. Nanami remembered something about him. He knew something about Satoru, something that would only happen if he paid attention to Satoru. “But it’s no matter! I’ll just watch you drink. You can put the rest in your fridge. Call it a housewarming present.”

Nanami took a beer out of the plastic and stared at it, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was down and slightly wet at the ends from a shower, and Satoru had to look at the floor to prevent himself from blushing anymore at the sight of Nanami with his hair down. He looked so vulnerable, so in his element.

As Nanami regarded the beer can, Satoru took the opportunity to glance around the apartment. He’d never been inside Nanami’s apartment, and it was exactly as he thought it’d be. Everything was tidy and had its place. The apartment itself was humbly small, with what seemed like only one bedroom hidden beyond a slightly ajar door down a hallway. He had a modestly-sized television set on a TV stand full of books and magazines. His kitchen was spotless, and his small dining table had a vase with a blooming bouquet. It was strange and inexplicable how much the normalcy turned Satoru on. After the life he’d lived, all the trauma he’d endured, all he wanted was to settle down someday.

“Thanks,” Nanami said, the sound of the beer fizzling drawing Satoru back into reality. As he watched Nanami take a sip from the can, he realized that he wanted to settle down with Nanami.

“You’re very welcome,” he said. “That’s your favorite brand, right?”

Nanami swallowed and set the can down on the table. His brows raised high on his forehead as he pursed his lips. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Thank you, Gojo-san. I’m not sure how you remembered that.”

I remember everything about you, Satoru almost said but caught himself last minute. “I already told you to drop it with the san. Just call me Satoru.”

“Mm,” Nanami hummed indifferently. His eyes drifted to the TV screen before grabbing the remote. “Are you going to make these movie nights a habit?”

Satoru’s heart dropped at that. Did Nanami truly hate him? Had he been so caught up in seducing him that he had been imagining things, that he had ignored all of Nanami’s rebuffs?

He bit his bottom lip and shrugged defeatedly. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t like them.”

He watched as the lump in Nanami’s throat bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “I don’t mind them.” He scoffed. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere. Satoru didn’t especially like Nanami having to resort to hanging out with him, but they were at least hanging out. He could work with this.

He leaned forward on his hand over the table, smirking at Nanami as the blond desperately tried to avoid eye contact. “Really? You don’t have any dates or anything? A good-looking guy like you—you should be drowning in women, Nanamin.”

The corner of Nanami’s lip curled at the nickname, but he had learned better than to correct Satoru. “No, I’m not,” he replied, although he didn’t seem too broken up about it. “I’m not a playboy like you.”

Satoru took genuine offense to that, slapping a hand to his chest. “Playboy? Playboy! Nanamin, you’ve burned me!”

If only Nanami knew the lengths Satoru had gone to seduce him, how many people he’d rebuffed at the slightest chance of getting in his pants. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet.

“You know, the students were gossiping about you,” Satoru said, reciting the script he’d created prior to knocking on Nanami’s door.

That took Nanami’s attention away from the movie long enough to glance at Satoru. “Oh? What did they say?” He narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know if you weren’t taking part in it?”

Nanami always knew exactly what to say to catch Satoru off guard. He did not expect that in his script. Nanami spoke so little, it seemed impossible for him to go off-script. Lo and behold.

“I just walked in on them speaking about you and demanded them to tell me what they said so I could punish them, I swear!” Satoru cried, but all Nanami did was look back at the movie. “Okay, but I’ll tell you what they said, and you can decide on their punishment after I tell you. They said that…well, that you’re a virgin. Ridiculous, right?”

Nanami’s expression went blank, and his arm shot out for the remote. He paused the movie and turned to Satoru, who stared back at him with an expectant smile. He took another swig of his beer and sighed. “They’ll have to spend thirty extra minutes every day after class cleaning the school for that.”

Satoru’s smile dropped. “But…but, they’re wrong, right?”

Nanami shot Satoru a look before it melted into something different. Something Satoru couldn’t parse. Was it guilt?

“Yes, they’re wrong,” Nanami said then chuckled humorlessly. “Although, I can understand why they think that. I don’t exactly present myself as somebody capable of…that.”

Satoru didn’t like seeing Nanami sad, but seeing him this dejected hurt even worse. This was the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. He shuffled forward so that he was next to Nanami, giving him a healthy amount of space before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what’d I say? An attractive guy like you—it makes sense if you get tons of action. But, I mean, I knew I’d find you at home on a Friday night instead of out anywhere.”

Nanami chuckled again, this time more good-naturedly. He ran a hand through his hair, but his hair just flopped back onto his forehead. “You know me too well, Gojo—ah, S-Satoru. That sounds so strange.”

Hearing his first name on Nanami’s tongue was euphoric. He wanted to hear it more. Hearing it made him feel as inebriated as if he had drank the entire pack of beer. It took away all of his inhibitions—the few that he had—and lubricated his lips so that anything and everything he wanted to say spilled out.

“They also said other things,” he continued, giving Nanami’s shoulder a light squeeze. “They called you a DILF.”

“A DILF? What’s that?” Nanami cringed. “Or do I even want to know?”

Satoru tapped his chin to feign thinking. “Hm, I think you do. To, you know, decide the right punishment.” He leaned forward so that he was mere centimeters away from Nanami’s ear before whispering, “Daddy I’d like to fuck.”

He leaned back quickly as if Nanami would strike him, putting his hands up as he laughed. “Crazy, right?”

However, Nanami was silent. He was a statue, his eyes solidly on the floor in front of him. He was so still that Satoru looked to the remote to see if it was a curse that had somehow paused the sorcerer.

“I mean, you’re not even that much older than them, and they’re calling you daddy,” Satoru continued amidst the awkward and unnerving silence. “Daddy. Funny, isn’t it?”

Nanami showed no emotion. Instead, he shot to his feet and turned off the TV. “I think you should go home.”

No. NO. Satoru couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A harmless joke turned into him getting kicked out of Nanami’s apartment. He never thought Nanami would actually kick him out, especially in such a callous way. He floundered for any way to fix the situation, coming up short. Nanami didn’t stick around to wait for Satoru to leave, instead walking away to his bedroom.

There was only one thing Satoru could think of that could stop Nanami in his tracks. It had been the reason why he so callously left, but desperation grew like a mold in Satoru’s chest, leaving him unable to breathe or move until he got what he wanted from Nanami: attention. Validation. Anything that wasn’t him walking to his bedroom, alone.

“Daddy, wait!”

Nanami came to a halt halfway through a step, stuttering forward like an unoiled machine. His back was wide and on full display in that T-shirt, and even underneath it, Satoru could see how tightly he was holding his shoulders, his muscles prominent. He had succeeded in getting Nanami to stop: but why? And now what?

However, that question was quickly answered when Nanami turned slightly, and those sweatpants Satoru had been so in love with gave away exactly what had Nanami rushing away so rapidly. His hand was covering most of it, but the grayness put on full display the prominent shadow of Nanami’s erection. Satoru found himself gawking at it for much too long, and when Nanami cleared his throat, his eyes flickered up to the blond’s face emblazoned with a blush whose color rivaled a tomato.

Oh. So it was true. Nanami did have a daddy kink.

The realization, when it finally hit, felt like a semi-truck had run over him. He had already been recovering from Nanami clarifying that he wasn’t a virgin (who had he had sex with? Who?), but the reveal that a kink that was largely said as a joke was true…it was enough to leave Satoru breathless.

“I really think you should leave,” Nanami mumbled, turning his back to Satoru again as he began to walk toward his room. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough.”

Nanami embarrassing himself was unthinkable. The display had been the opposite of embarrassing: it was incredibly arousing. Then again, everything about Nanami was arousing to Satoru. It was time for Satoru to embarrass himself.

He stood up, nearly passing out from the lack of oxygen in his brain. He hadn’t been breathing properly, and all of the blood in his body had been diverted to his groin. None of his bodily functions were working properly, except for his dick. And all of his best decisions were made when controlled by his dick.

“You haven’t embarrassed yourself, Nanamin,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I…I’ve been looking for a way to get you like this for so long. To…be excited. So, it’s okay, daddy.”

He leveled his gaze at Nanami before sliding off his blindfold so that he could see just how serious he was about the situation. His eyelids were heavy with lust as he slowly approached Nanami, his footsteps the only sound in the apartment for several moments. He stopped only a meter away from the sorcerer, sweeping a hand through his hair. “You’ve done the opposite of embarrassing yourself.”

Nanami’s eyes dropped from Satoru’s face down to the sliver of skin revealed as he lifted his arm to his hair. He exhaled shakily before glancing off to the side as any sort of eye contact with Satoru proved too difficult. “You’ve been looking for a way to get me aroused?” Nanami shook his head and scoffed. “I thought you were joking this whole time.”

“What?” Satoru couldn’t believe his ears. He was so shocked that he dropped the sex kitten act, outraged at Nanami’s thick-headedness. “Nanami, how many times did I explicitly ask you on a date? Told you I wanted to spend time with you, kiss you even? What is wrong with you?”

Nanami’s eyes were owlish at Satoru’s exclamations, his mouth agape but with nothing coming out of it. He was rendered silent, watching as Satoru caught his breath from his impromptu bout of shouting. Finally, he swallowed and shook his head. “I thought you were kidding all these years…that you didn’t actually like me…that’s why I never reciprocated. Because if I did, you’d be disgusted that I took you seriously.”

“Like you? Nanami, I’m in love with you.”

The admission caught both Satoru and Nanami off guard. Satoru clapped a hand over his mouth, and Nanami dropped the hand covering his erection. He covered his mouth so that both men were mirroring each other in their surprise. The only thing that got either man to move was when Nanami saw Satoru’s eyes drop to his crotch, which was still tented in his sweatpants and fully visible.

“In love, you say?” Nanami said, his voice dropping several octaves. “What does Satoru in love look like?”

Nanami may as well have been purring in Satoru’s ear with how gravelly his voice had grown. Satoru’s eyes grew dazed with desire, unable to focus on anything except the blond man right in front of him. This was happening. Nanami had reciprocated his feelings, feelings he’d supposedly had for years. That was the downside to being a responsible, stable man: Nanami would never put a relationship on the line because he had romantic feelings, unlike Satoru. If he had, they would’ve been together much earlier. So, they simply had to make up for lost time.

“It looks like this.”

Satoru was on Nanami in a flash, Nanami barely able to blink before he felt a pair of soft, warm lips on his. His hands raised in the air in surprise, but when he sensed Satoru’s arms draping over his shoulders, his fingertips slightly scraping his back, he brought his hands down and ghosted them over Satoru’s hips.

“You can touch me, Nanamin,” Satoru mumbled against his lips before diving back into their ever-deepening kiss.

Nanami found himself clutching Satoru’s hips out of surprise when he felt Satoru’s tongue licking his bottom lip for unspoken permission to enter. Once he gained his bearings, he granted permission by invading Satoru’s mouth first, earning a delicious gasp and moan from him. He found his confidence and massaged his thumbs into Satoru’s hips bones, bringing him closer until their chests were pressed against each other.

“I can feel you,” Satoru said, grinding his crotch against Nanami’s and licking his lips at the deep groan that vibrated in the blond’s throat. He could clearly feel the outline of Nanami’s erection against his thigh, and it only made him that much more dizzyingly aroused. There was nothing that could get him off his high now, except for an earth-shatteringly good orgasm.

He lowered his hand to Nanami’s erection, brushing his knuckles over it before grasping it gently with his full palm.

“A-ah, Gojo-san…” he sighed, his fingertips sinking into the tenderness of Satoru’s hips. “That feels—”

“Good?” Satoru whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nanami’s lips. “I want you to feel good, daddy.”

“Jesus,” Nanami exhaled harshly, his hands raising to grip Satoru’s shoulders. “I never thought that would get me this way. But of course, it’s only with you. You always make me this way.”

Only when Nanami’s words echoed in Satoru’s mind did he understand the implications of what he had said. Always. Had he accidentally turned Nanami on some other time? Did Nanami think about him sexually? Did he dream about him? The mere thought of Nanami jerking off to him was enough to have him dropping to his knees, face-to-face with the giant tent in those sweatpants that doubled as lingerie with how sexual they were.

“Gojo-san, wait,” Nanami said, his voice laced with panic. His hands wavered in the air much as they did when Satoru first kissed him before settling one of them on Satoru’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair. “You…you don’t have to do this.”

Satoru almost laughed at the suggestion that he was doing this for Nanami. No, he had dreamed about having that giant cock in his mouth ever since the first time he had seen Nanami’s transformation. After bidding goodbye to him that day, he went home and masturbated furiously at the faraway dream that he be able to fuck Nanami—or rather, get Nanami to fuck him so beautifully that he’d never be able to be satisfied without him. Who could have predicted that that faraway dream would be right in front of him one day?

“I want to,” Satoru said. He’d never been more truthful than in that moment.

He traced the top of the sweatpants’ waistband, glancing up at Nanami for permission. When all Nanami could do was grip Satoru’s hair tighter and stare at him expectantly, Satoru didn’t waste any more time. He took both hands and carefully pulled down the sweatpants, but they hitched on Nanami’s erection with how pronounced it was. The visual left Satoru salivating in anticipation, and when he finally was able to pull the sweatpants over his erection, his breath hitched in his throat when he saw that Nanami didn’t have any underwear on.

“Do you always go commando?” Satoru asked, causing Nanami to cover his face with the hand that wasn’t buried in Satoru’s hair. “Or were you expecting me?”

“When I sleep, yes,” Nanami replied, his voice muffled by his hand. Satoru thought it endearing that he could see the blush trickling down his neck to his shoulders, even blotching the top of his chest peeking out from his shirt. Everything about Nanami was delicious to look at.

“Easier for me,” Satoru said before turning his attention to the very thing he’d been daydreaming about for years.

He gripped the base of it with a hand, but it was so large that it made it look no smaller. It left Satoru somewhat intimidated—if he could barely fit it in his mouth, how would it go inside him? Regardless, it’d have to work. He wasn’t going to be leaving himself or Nanami with blue balls. He would be draining them, hopefully multiple times.

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he gave the head an experimental lick. Nanami groaned at that simple touch, and Satoru peered up at him as he got used to the salty taste of precome on his tongue. His Adam’s apple was prominent in his throat as his head lolled backward, the sight pushing Satoru forward to do more. He needed Nanami lost in pleasure, getting so drunk on sex with him that he wouldn’t regret a second of it when they were done.

He stuck out his tongue and took Nanami’s cock in one fell swoop, getting about halfway down before his gag reflex kicked in. He squeezed his thumb in his fist to abate it, breathing in deeply before continuing his journey down Nanami’s cock. Just when he felt like his dinner was about to come up, his nose nuzzled into Nanami’s neatly trimmed pubic hair, and he stayed there for a moment, enjoying the fullness in his throat and the tightness of Nanami’s grip on his hair, his scalp burning, before drawing away and coughing to the side. He inhaled sharply as he jerked Nanami off with all the new saliva coating his cock, leading to lasciviously wet sounds echoing alongside Nanami’s sinful groans.

“You’re incredible,” Nanami murmured, his hand trailing to Satoru’s chin and tipping it up.

He wiped away a trail of spit before his thumb rested on Satoru’s bottom lip, swiping alongside it. His eyes twinkled with fascination when Satoru opened it obediently, those eyes of diamonds settling on him with such a heated gaze, it had his cock twitching. Experimentally, he pushed his thumb into Satoru’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue with curiosity. He sucked in a sharp breath when Satoru’s tongue enveloped his thumb and gave it a warm welcome, bringing his lips around it and sucking on it dutifully.

“Did you learn this somewhere?” Nanami asked, although he quickly found that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“No,” Satoru replied, leaving Nanami at ease. “You made me this way, daddy.”

“Oh, you little minx,” Nanami said, but he couldn’t hide the groan or weakness in his knees when Satoru returned to giving his cock the royal treatment.

Satoru polished the cock as if it were his last meal, making sure no part was left unattended. A string of saliva hung from his chin as he bobbed his head back and forth, stroking the parts he couldn’t reach—which with the size of Nanami’s cock, were significant. He groaned with each tug Nanami gave his hair, his voice vibrating around the cock, which then had Nanami groaning and tugging more in response. It was a brutal pleasure loop that had Nanami slightly bucking his hips forward into the warm hole surrounding his cock, much to Satoru’s delight.

Satoru popped off Nanami’s cock, keeping it warm with both of his hands as he stared up at Nanami. “You can fuck my mouth, you know,” he said, opening his mouth to reveal his perfectly pink tongue and inviting throat. “Don’t be scared, daddy.”

Each time Satoru used the pet name, it sent rivulets of electricity down Nanami’s spine. He didn’t know when he first developed this kink—all he knew was that he found himself clicking on a gay porn video with a man whose body looked just like Satoru, and he called out ‘daddy’ over and over to the hunk of a man fucking him into the mattress. Ever since then, he searched high and low for videos of men crying out ‘daddy,’ men who all resembled Satoru in one way or another.

The second he heard Satoru use it for the first time only twenty minutes ago, he thought he was hallucinating. He thought that somehow the beer he drank was poisoned or laced with magic mushrooms, anything that would make more sense than Satoru Gojo calling him daddy. But then he said it again, and again. And again.

And now that Satoru was on his knees, sucking his cock so prettily with those flushed cheeks on pale skin and cherry-red lips stretched around his girth, calling him daddy in that wonderfully low, hoarse voice, it took everything inside Nanami not to pull out his phone and record. This was infinitely better than any video he had watched previously. No, there was no competition. He would never watch another porno again now that he had Satoru in the palm of his hand.

Or rather, on his cock.

“You asked for it,” he said, a deep growl in his throat as he fortified his grip on Satoru’s hair and slowly drove his hips further into his mouth. “S-shit…”

Satoru moaned around Nanami’s cock again at the sound of Nanami cursing, something he hardly did. But he was making him feel so good that he couldn’t help but let a curse slip. It was invigorating.

Nanami soon picked up speed, bucking his hips forward into Satoru’s mouth and down his throat. He felt himself falling into pleasure-fueled hysteria, no longer able to control his hips as he thrust into his mouth with full force, feeling Satoru’s nose bump against his lower stomach each time. The wet squelching sounds coming from Satoru’s throat were downright salacious, and his face and Nanami’s cock were a mess of precome and spit. Satoru raised trembling hands before setting them on Nanami’s thighs, sinking his fingertips into his quads and leaving behind crescent-shaped tattoos.

“F-fuck, I’m close, Satoru,” Nanami gasped, throwing his head back as he continued using Satoru’s head like a fleshlight. “Let me just pull ou—”

Hearing his name in Nanami’s mouth made Satoru go as crazy as Nanami did over being called daddy. He wanted nothing less than for Nanami to leave his mouth empty. His throat was rubbed raw, and he’d been fighting his gag reflex with every fiber of his being, but the pain hardly compared to the orgasmic pleasure he was feeling in his groin. So, he moved his hands to Nanami’s ass and pushed him forward so he had no choice but to stay inside Satoru’s mouth.

“S-Satoru—! If you do that, I’m going to…ngh…coming!”

Satoru’s eyes rolled up into his head as the combination of his scalp burning from Nanami’s tight hold on his hair and the semen pouring down his throat hit him. He was finally tasting Nanami’s semen, and while it certainly wasn’t creme brûlée, it was everything he had dreamed about and more. Satoru was certainly a playboy before he got attached to Nanami, but Nanami had thoroughly turned him into a downright whore.

After gulping down what felt like multiple loads of semen, Satoru slowly slid off Nanami’s cock with a pop and wiped away the mess of come and spit mixing on his chin and down his neck. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelashes glued together from tears that streamed down his cheeks. The more Nanami gazed down at him, the more he felt himself grow harder again despite orgasming only a minute ago.

He reached down and wiped a stray tear away from Satoru’s cheek before bringing it up to his mouth and licking it.

“How many people have you practiced that with?” he asked, although he didn’t want to know the real answer. Satoru knew to play along, and he loved that about him.

“Nobody, daddy,” Satoru said, rising to his feet and pressing his chest against Nanami’s. “I promise.”

“You—fuck.” Nanami couldn’t help the breathless curse that left his lips. He gave Satoru a once-over, taking in his cotton sweater and black slacks, before grabbing him by the neck and tossing him onto the sofa. He loved looking at Satoru clothed, but at that moment, he needed him naked, and fast. “You showered before this, right?”

“Yes…” Satoru trailed off as he watched with poorly concealed excitement as Nanami undid his jeans and ripped them off in one fell swoop, leaving him in his special briefs. They bordered on women’s underwear with how small they were, but they were white cotton, still having that masculine edge while poorly hiding his weeping erection. He had nearly orgasmed just from having Nanami’s cock stretching his throat, and the evidence was plain as day looking at his briefs.

“I…I also prepped,” Satoru said sheepishly, his hand trailing between his legs. “You don’t have to do anything. You can just…fuck me.”

He pressed a finger to his hole, still clothed by his briefs. He stifled a gasp, remembering how thoroughly he fingered himself in the shower before walking over to Nanami’s. He knew Nanami had a big cock, just by the virtue of his being—but seeing it in person was something else. Insecurity sunk in as he realized he may not have been as prepped as needed.

Luckily, Nanami didn’t think Satoru prepping himself was enough. He needed to take it upon himself to pleasure his partner back, the partner he had yearned after for so long and who was now indulging in his most embarrassing kink.

“Come here,” Nanami commanded, grabbing Satoru’s hips and pulling him down. He then raised Satoru’s hips up into the air so that his ass was flush with his face. He licked a line from Satoru’s clothed cock down to his ass, pressing his tongue into the fabric until he could feel the throbbing hole lying past that thin barrier.

“A-ah, daddy, wait! That feels—hah…”

“Good?” Nanami asked, echoing Satoru’s previous purr. “So you knew that we’d be doing this tonight. Did you come over fully intending on seducing me?”

Satoru covered his face with a forearm, but his blush radiated past that. “Yeah, I did. Does that make you…disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” Nanami sounded appalled just at the thought of being disgusted that the man he’d been in love with for so long had wanted to have sex with him so badly he prepped himself before forcing himself into his coworker’s apartment, prepared to put his feelings on the table and their relationship on the line. Luckily for Nanami, Satoru was a bold motherfucker.

“It makes me want to eat you up,” he finished before pulling the briefs aside and diving into Satoru’s heat. He kissed a trail from Satoru’s balls down his perineum and finally, while listening to the symphony that was Satoru’s moans, licked the hole he’d be using and abusing very, very soon.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, that feels so…ngh, good…” Satoru couldn’t help embarrassing himself over and over, and Nanami’s neighbors would certainly hate him after that night. But he had dreamed about this moment for so long that he couldn’t help being overdramatic, couldn’t help wanting to let Nanami know how truly grateful and excited he was to have his coworker eating him out.

Nanami licked and sucked, trailing a hand to Satoru’s cock to stroke him there, too. He pressed a thumb into the head of his cock as he slid his tongue inside him, driving Satoru wild. He watched from his peripheral vision as one of Satoru’s hands gripped the bedsheets while the other came to rest on Nanami’s head, gripping his hair in much the same way as Nanami did with him.

“I’m close, daddy, I’m close,” Satoru breathed, his eyes fluttering closed to process his pleasure. However, he didn’t want the night to end like this. He opened an eye and peered around his hips in the air to see Nanami’s cock standing at attention as if he hadn’t just orgasmed a few minutes ago. After all the excitement that night, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep going after one orgasm—and he wasn’t about to leave Nanami unattended.

“Daddy, fuck me. Fuck me, please. Now.” He wasn’t pleading anymore. He was demanding.

Nanami lifted his head from between Satoru’s legs, savoring the heat of his now-lover’s thighs pressed against his ears. He turned his head and sunk his teeth into the soft inner flesh of Satoru’s thigh, eliciting a yelp from the other as Nanami licked around the bite to seal the deal.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against Satoru’s thigh while gazing at him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

Satoru reached down to his discarded pants on the floor and rifled through one of the pockets, bringing out a condom. Or, what looked like just one condom, before he let the entire roll of about six condoms drop down.

He smirked as he watched Nanami’s face fall. “I’m hoping you don’t.”

He winked as he tossed the stack to Nanami, who set down Satoru’s hips in favor of ripping a single condom packet away from the stack. An entire stack; Satoru couldn’t be serious. But as Nanami swung his gaze back over to the sorcerer, he realized that his playboy label was still true—his sights were set solely on Nanami at that moment. He was insatiable, as evidenced by him spreading his pretty, slender legs dusted with pink blush and a deep bite mark, knowing full well what that would unlock inside Nanami.

“You’re a drug, Satoru Gojo,” Nanami mumbled. “Not only prepping yourself, but keeping an entire roll of condoms…you are one conniving bastard.”

Saying his senior’s full name without honorifics and calling him names were still strange to him. But when he saw how Satoru’s cock twitched after what he said, he realized just how much of a turn-on either saying his name or being called names could be. Perfect.

“Then come have me,” Satoru said, holding out his arms as he watched Nanami tear a condom wrapper and slide it onto his cock. “However many times you like.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Nanami said, guiding his cock to Satoru’s entrance and pressing the head to the rim. Just that small touch had both men breathless, their chests rising and falling erratically to compensate.

“I love games,” was all that Satoru could reply with before Nanami pushed inside. The next thing that came out of Satoru’s mouth was a whiny moan, his trembling legs crossing behind Nanami’s back and pushing him even further inside him.

“Gojo-sa—nn…you’re tight,” Nanami breathed, his arms faltering in their hold on the couch. He nearly collapsed on top of Satoru but managed to keep himself up, one of his arms gripping one of the couch pillows while the other drifted to Satoru's thigh. He ran his fingers up and down that trembling thigh, raking his fingertips until they created light red trails on his pallid skin.

“F-feels…feels so good, daddy,” Satoru said, his voice hitching in his throat with how much every synapse in his body was on fire. It hurt, the stretching sensation from Nanami’s large cock making Satoru bite his lip. But the sheer pleasure he felt from finally being connected to Nanami, to know how his most intimate region felt inside him, to know the face Nanami made when he orgasmed…the pain was secondary. “More…harder, please.”

Nanami wanted to do more. God, how he wanted to fuck Satoru senseless until he could no longer speak and anything that came out of his mouth were whimpers. But he wanted to admire his lover first, wanted to take in his first time with the man he’d been in love with for years.

He slowly trailed his hands underneath Satoru’s sweater, pushing it up so that those pretty pink nipples he’d seen whenever they’d change in gym class or go to onsens together and had dreamed about. With a final push that fully buried his cock inside Satoru, he leaned over and took one of Satoru’s nipples between his teeth. His ears pricked at the sound of Satoru’s sweet gasp, and he dove in for more, sucking on the entire nipple while rolling the other between his fingers.

“There is…too much…” Satoru couldn’t object even if he tried. The stretching of his hole, the tickling sensation of his nipples sending ripples throughout his body, Nanami’s heat draped over him, everything amassed into a wave that crested and crashed over Satoru when Nanami bit his nipple again. “Too much! C-com—”

Satoru barely finished his sentence before semen spurted from his cock and painted his stomach white. His walls clamped down completely onto Nanami’s cock, causing him to groan and leaving any sort of movement impossible. Not that he wanted to move anyway—he wanted nothing more than to watch Satoru in the throes of an orgasm so powerful, his entire body went still before breaking out into shakes. His back arched off the bed and his legs squeezed Nanami’s waist so hard, he’d surely have bruises the next day.

Everything about Satoru was delectable. The more Nanami looked, the more he saw Satoru’s body as sweet: his nipples were strawberry-pink, his hole cherry-red, his skin milk-white.

“Are you alright, Gojo-san?” he asked sincerely once Satoru seemed to calm down, his chest rising and falling desperately to compensate for the lack of oxygen to his brain. He splayed a hand over Satoru’s chest, but the poor man was so oversensitive that he flinched away at the feather-like touch.

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he flung a forearm over his face. “That was…fuck.”

“You orgasmed after I barely put it in,” Nanami remarked, his eyes falling to Satoru’s nipples. “And after I played with you here for a few seconds.”

His hand came to rest over one of Satoru’s pecs, his fingers bumping against the abused nipple and making Satoru squirm underneath him. His eyes flickered back to Satoru’s face with an uncharacteristic smirk.

“You’re in for a long night, Satoru.”

Without another warning, he pulled out, leaving Satoru breathless, before slamming inside him, digging his fingers into Satoru’s waist.

“Fuck! Ah, daddy—it’s too much…” Satoru cried, his arms flailing in the air before coming to rest on Nanami’s shoulders.

Nanami leaned in slightly to make it easier for Satoru to hold onto him. “I thought you wanted more.”

Satoru pouted silently and turned his face away, but his pouting only lasted for a few seconds before Nanami thrust into him brutally again, enough for the wind to be knocked out of him. Except this time, Nanami gave him no breathing room, instead striking up a rhythm that had Satoru gasping for air with each thrust.

“Oh—ngh! Yes, yes, more…daddy…!” The new pet name settled over each man like an aphrodisiac, leaving Satoru hard again and Nanami throbbing inside his lover.

The combination of Satoru’s walls hugging him as if they never wanted to let go, Satoru’s moans, and Satoru’s beautiful expressions were enough to have Nanami fighting the crest of an orgasm from crashing over him. His rhythm gave him enough pleasure to leave his entire body buzzing, but it was punishing and left him racing to the finish. He was fucking into Satoru hard and fast, each thrust sending the couch a few centimeters to the right, the legs scraping against the floor. His fingers were already leaving bruises on Satoru’s svelte waist, and his thighs were littered with marks.

In the few seconds Nanami had left before he succumbed to orgasm, he leaned over and sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of Satoru’s neck, savoring the small cry Satoru let out. A shiver rattled each of Nanami’s vertebrae at the sensation of Satoru raking his fingernails down his back desperately as if he was hanging on for dear life. After releasing the bite and licking it as a silent apology, he turned his attention to Satoru’s ear, licking the shell of it and drawing out another weepy cry from his lover.

“I love you, too, Satoru,” he whispered and smiled to himself when those three words seemed to lead to Satoru’s second orgasm of the night.

But Satoru wasn’t orgasming alone. Nanami was right behind him, his hand shooting out to grip the couch’s arm for support as he slammed into Satoru once, twice, before filling the condom to the brim. He let out a shaky groan, his eyes squeezing shut tightly enough for white stars to break out in his vision.

“I feel it…I feel you,” Satoru whispered, his fingers releasing their hold on Nanami’s back and replacing it with a feather-like touch as he traced shapes into his skin. “Inside me. When was the last time you…”

Satoru swallowed thickly, thoroughly exhausted after his orgasms—the second of which ended up being completely dry. Nanami made him feel so good that his body couldn’t even keep up with semen production to go along with his orgasms. It made Satoru’s eyes drift to the roll of condoms and wonder how many more Nanami could fill up.

“A long, long time,” Nanami replied, slowly opening his eyes after what felt like eons.

His vision was bright at first before adjusting to the living room light. Once his eyes adjusted, he lowered them to his lover and was met with Satoru’s magnificent eyes staring up at him expectantly. He hadn’t masturbated in a few weeks at least, having been too busy with work, curses, and teaching to sit down and watch porn. Besides, he’d exhausted his specific niche of Satoru-lookalikes crying out daddy, and he couldn’t get off to any other video. Satoru had captured not only Nanami’s heart but also his attention. Nobody else was comparable to his Satoru Gojo.

“Well,” Satoru said, his hand moving to the back of Nanami’s neck to bring him down for a kiss. After a shallow kiss, he rested his forehead against Nanami’s and smiled. “Prepare to do it again. And again.”

Nanami’s eyes shifted to the condoms. “Now?”

Satoru licked his lips. “Now, daddy.”

Nanami asked no more questions after that.

[llamaisllama777]

I Wanna talk about today's LAES episode!

Okay, I loved this episode and am pleasantly surprised by how mature most of them handled this, especially Lunar and Moon. Lunar knows he messed up, and he really has no excuse for what he did. He made a dumb mistake with MAJOR repercussions. He takes his punishment like a man and accepts it won't be easy to earn everyone's forgiveness, and it's up to Earth if she wants to forgive Lunar or not and that's fair.

Monty and Moon are rightly mad at Lunar, and while I think Monty shouldn't threaten to punch Lunar, it's entirely fair. That's just who Monty is. He's an angry guy and doesn't like it when people hurt people he cares about, so while he shouldn't have threatened Lunar, it is to be expected. Monty loves Earth. She's one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he adores her and hates seeing her get hurt and betrayed... again. While yes, it was an accident, it was a very poorly and badly timed accident.

We don't know if Earth is gonna be okay.

-Best case scenarios

They get all the negative star power out of her and she's back to her old self again

Or she's fine, but she just feels numb like Monty's arm did for like five months.

-WORST case scenario

She dies.

Monty has all the right in the world to be mad. Everyone here does. Lunar could have killed Earth! Or hurt Moon, or Jack, or Dazzle. They have all right to be mad!

I'm glad all of them still care for Lunar and still see him as a brother and don't want anything bad to happen to him. I'm proud of Moon despite the fact that he was very hurt by Lunar's words he still loves him. If this had been how OLD old Moon he would have torn Lunar to shreds verbally... and then maybe physically.

I'm proud he's grown from his angry past.

Sun and Solar seem the most sad to kick Lunar out, but they understand his actions NEED to have consequences.

I've seen some people say that it's not fair for them to kick out Lunar and say he's dangerous...

Guys... HE IS. Lunar is basically a walking BOMB!

Yes, Monty has access to dangerous weapons, and so does Solar and Moon... but they keep those away from Earth in places she won't find them or get hurt by them.

Sun has magic.... he can control it.

(when he's not having a nightmare)

While everyone in that room is dangerous, they're all careful. Lunar wasn't.

So, now he has to face the consequences. It's sad to see Lunar be separated from his family and still have no idea who he is or what he's supposed to be... but who knows, maybe this is what Lunar needs. Plus, if Lunar doesn't want to stay in THIS universe, I can think of one universe that could be a big help to him...

*Cough! Eclipse and Puppet's! Cough!*

This could be the first step in the right direction.

I get why people are upset at the Celestial family and Monty for kicking out Lunar... BUT I can't argue that they didn't do anything wrong. I think the Celestial did the right thing.

Actions have consequences both GOOD and BAD.

Also... does anyone else think Lunar's apartment reminds them of Peter Parker's from the Tobey Maguire Spider-man movies and Spider-man No way home. It just gives me that vibe.

Also... I feel SO BAD for Earth!

The girl has been betrayed by

-Her father

-Her brother (Nexus)

-Monty for not telling Earth about his crimes (They worked that out)

-And now Lunar!

Girl probably gonna have trust issues after this.

[righteous-pines]

The last living relative of the great Pinestar. As his granddaughter, and as an extremely talented young warrior, in her own right, great things are expected of Alpineknoll. Only time will tell if she will fulfill this presumed destiny, but thanks to the careful rearing and training of her grandmother, Graypelt, she shows great promise towards her destiny.

[sercphs]

Father's Day

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Featuring Cradle Verse || Honkai: Star Rail

⠀⠀⠀⠀Another year, as the residents of the universe called it. A standardized measurement perpetrated by the great IPC across the stars, as far as their reach let them - and even further beyond that. This is something she became accustomed to in the time since she had ventured into the universe at large.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Was it ironic then, that this "Father's Day" was the day she set out all that time ago, that it was an arbitrarily named day to celebrate paternity? Or perhaps that was merely the one she had come to see as the 'real' version of the day, for her own reasons. Perhaps it wasn't a standardized thing in this universe - she would never truly be able to tell. Even now after all these years, she doesn't truly understand these things that are so woefully human.

⠀⠀⠀⠀In spite of this she continues to learn, to sink her hands into the matter, to understand what makes these humans and their sibling species the way they are. The drive, the motivation, the justifications - all of it far beyond her understanding even now, yet every cycle she is one step closer to understanding. One step closer to knowing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But never any closer to loving.

⠀⠀⠀⠀It is something that exists so far beyond her understanding, beyond what she is capable of feeling. She sees it everywhere, this thing that is called 'love' that people share for each other. A thing that some have declared ever feeling toward her on some rare occasions, but she cannot even begin to fathom what it feels like.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Even further beyond her understanding is this love of Fathers. This day dedicated to them, this day she takes out of every cycle like a great many others, but for reasons so far from what she understands to be it's true reason. To celebrate your Fathers, to show appreciate them, to let them know they are 'loved' by their children...

"Mm... Is that something so very human, too?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀The thought escapes her mouth as she she sets foot on the moon, a desolate and barren place at the edge of infinity. A place so far from those she had become accustomed to, somewhere that one could live without ever knowing about the great Aeons deeper in the universe. A place where one could easily live their life without even so much as knowing about The Destruction, without having heard of The Propagation and it's consequences...

⠀⠀⠀⠀An edge of infinity where the only thing known is Despair.

"Perhaps. I wonder what they would say if they could see this place?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Gentle footsteps guide her across the surface, through the ruins of a civilization long passed away. Step by step, the same footprints she left last cycle - and the cycle before that. How many cycles had she been leaving these footprints? Always on this same day, the same footprints, one galactic cycle after another. They felt so close together, yet so far apart - so telling of the timelessness of her body and mind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Closer and closer, until she comes to a stop at a faded red cloth set upon the ground in a crater, a place she can turn her head to the sky and see the world this desolate place orbits. A world she is bound to never set foot upon, locked away from Despair in its entirety after the great tragedies that befell it. A bubble of time sealed away, locked by a poison that permeates all existence...

"Mm... As it has already been another cycle, once again..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀The Emanator kneels on the fabric, setting out a small incense burner in the heart of the piece of fabric. A pair of incense sticks are lit, and her hands pressed together - drawn apart to produce a single black rose. Placing the rose before the incense burner, she turns her gaze to the darkness surrounding the world she gazed upon, her crimson stare peering into the Darkness of Despair.

⠀⠀⠀⠀To her Father, she utters the same promise that she has made every year, every galactic cycle - a promise she will make forevermore, until the day it is fulfilled.

"In my infinite hatred, I give you this gift - Father. May your death come soon, so that I may put an end to suffering."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Father's Day...

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀...What a horrible day.

[ultimatebottom69]

...If i tell you all IRL that my step-mother actually made jokes about my lityle brother huge balls when he was birthed and how she was extremely graphic about how early on in the pregnancy every doctor and X-ray graphic showed it so she felt forced to do another kid to have a daughter.

Would you believe me ?

I can't I can't I can't I can't

[kamiversee]

Big ruby shaded eyes, matching that of her father’s, have this adorable thin layer of gloss over them as she pleads with her parent for the millionth time.

“Daddy pwease?” She has the cutest little pout on her face, one that’s worked on her mother time and time again that’s sure to work on her father too—

“No.” Sukuna says yet again.

The child is tired of asking and receiving that same answer over and over. She doesn’t understand one bit why but she hates hearing that word. Folding her arms, she lets out an annoyed puff, “Mommy would never tell me no…”

One statement and there’s already another vein bulging in the right corner of Sukuna Ryomen’s forehead. “Go away, brat.” He breathes out in an overly irritated tone.

The child, unable to take no for an answer and more like her father than she even realizes, takes her foot and brings it down on the curse’s foot in frustration.

If he wasn’t ticked off before, he damn sure is now. “You little—“

“Sukuna,” And there it is, the voice of the sole human in this reality who could ever even dream of cutting the king of curses off mid-sentence. Not only is it you, the mother of his overly insolent child, but you have the nerve to give him that scolding tone he hates (loves).

He scowls for a long moment before looking down to the smaller human who carries more of your features than his. “Fine, child.” Sukuna drawls out after a long roll of his many eyes.

Then, with a big smile plastered all over her small face, her hands are shooting up and she’s making a grab motion with her hands.

Sukuna stares down at her and sighs, “You really are a spoiled brat, y’know…” He grumps while leaning down to pick his daughter up with one out of his two pairs of hands. “…Just like your damn mother.”

The child’s smile fades for a moment and she tilts her head, “Damn?” She repeats in a confused tone, making Sukuna’s heart spike.

“Wait-, don’t… don’t say that.” He’s been down this road one two many times—having taught the child how to say ‘fuck’ the moment she began spewing words. He received an earful from you that he didn’t care for so, here he is now, “That’s a bad word.”

His daughter blinks, “But, Daddy said it.”

Sukuna groans lowly in irritation, “Daddy can say whatever the hell he wants.”

“Hell?” Oh she had to be doing this on purpose, knowing her mother was only a room away.

“Child.” The curse scolds, “Are you trying to irritate me?”

She shrugs playfully, “This is what you get for telling me no.”

“You asked me if you could draw on my face.” He deadpans.

“And you should’ve said yes,” You suddenly chime in, entering the room, “Instead of teaching her more curse words.”

The little girl snickers in Sukuna’s arms and he swears he has an image of the child being flung across the room for just a moment. That image is interrupted by the girl speaking again.

“Like fuck?” She says loud and clear. “I heard Daddy say it again earlier today—“

A big hand goes over her mouth (practically her entire face) and she’s cut off by her father who’s innocently smiling at you, his darling wife.

“Ignore her. I was just about to let her draw on my face so,” He glances down at his daughter who’s giggling victoriously beneath his palm and then sighs, “If you’ll excuse us.”

You’re left smiling at the two as Sukuna turns away with his daughter and exits the room—the sound of them bickering as soon as they’re out of sight heard moments later.

And the next time you lay eyes on the two, Sukuna’s got a face full of stickers and marker and his little mini-me has a mocking face full of her father’s markings. To which you just had to take a million and one pictures of.

[sqtorux]

love makes a man tender— the same could be said for a monster.

sukuna sits patiently with his daughter on his lap while she applies various colours on his face he finds so hideous.

her small little hands pat the products into his skin, a bit too aggressively for his liking but he lets her regardless, not without a few grunts and huffs of annoyance though.

"pick another one" sukuna says in an irritated tone when she brought a bright pink blush close to his face.

the child only pouts "but 'ts pretty!!" now if you must know, sukuna dislikes pink; hates it even. it looks lively and soft — the exact opposite of who he was. (also maybe because a certain someone aka his least favourite niece has the exact same hair colour but the girl doesn't need to know that).

despite that, sukuna finds himself giving into that stupid pout he somehow catches himself adoring. all four of his eyes roll "get on with it then."

the giggles that follow after almost made him want to paint all of himself pink. almost.

however, what drove him to the edge was when he was asked to close his eyes so she could apply yet another colour onto them.

being the kid she is, she does it a bit sloppy— accidentally poking his eyes once or twice. "brat that hurts" sukuna growls but makes no move to stop her.

he thinks the foolish eye pokes were worth it when a light peck lands on each of his eyes "sorry daddy!" the child chuckles and sukuna opens his eyes.

one of his four hands make their way to her lips stained with a faint black— which he guesses were from his eyes, and wipes them away gently. "you look stupid."

the girl ignores his half assed words and brings yet another bright shade and begins applying it onto his lips. he sits obediently.

"there! you're done. you're so pretty daddy!!" the child squeals in excitement and brings a mirror to her father's face.

sukuna stares into the mirror and frowns "how horrifying."

"do you not like it?"

sukuna scoffs and places the mirror down "i have always wanted to look abominable."

"yes you look adorable!" the girl giggles while clapping her tiny hands together happily. sukuna doesn't correct her.

later when she sleeps and you're talking the makeup off for him, sukuna complaints.

"this is the result of the small brat's assault."

you only laugh in response and his eyes stare up to you. "i am being very serious."

"then why didn't you stop her?"

sukuna doesn't have an answer to that because that would mean he had to admit his affection for yet another person after you.

"that's right, you'd do anything for her won't you?" your chuckle makes all four of his eyes roll. he seems to do that a lot lately.

"the small brat and the big brat love tormenting me."

you raise a brow at this, "and do you have a problem with that?"

sukuna huffs but the soft expression replacing his usually grim one betrays the act of annoyance he puts up.

"i wouldn't have it any other way."

[buggachat]

adrien never went to public school / adrienette have never met AU where Ladynoir are dating but Marinette has beef with Adrien Agreste™ on twitter, spurred by her interest in the fashion industry and her friendship with Mylene. ads are all over the place of Adrien promoting products like air in a bottle and NFTs and just generally so many products that are extremely poor taste/bad for the environment. Marinette tweets about beauty standards in the industry and all the shit Gabriel brand does to the environment and how Adrien Agreste perfectly encapsulates it all.

Adrien, of course, never responds to any of her tweets. her tweets are just white noise in the background. she is nowhere near on his level. one day Marinette tweets out something akin to "if I saw Adrien Agreste irl i'd punch him in the face" and her twitter gets banned for Threats of Violence, Alya draws attention to the injustice of it via the Ladyblog and suddenly "I want to punch Adrien Agreste in the face [gets banned]" becomes a bit of a meme. NOW people know who Marinette is and are listening to what she's saying (on her new account or whatever). Chat Noir also tweets that he wants to punch Adrien in the face

A hashtag trends. Marinette caves and starts tweeting about the scandals of the industry on her Ladybug twitter too. Adrien's twitter and instagram comments are flooded with both threats to punch him but also just generally critical comments like "nice pic and all but are you not going to address the sweatshop allegations?". Adrien still does not address it. At most he turns comments off. Marinette is gnawing at the wood of her desk.

Then a Ladybug and Chat Noir identity reveal happens.

Marinette is stunned. Absolutely mouth agape. Cannot form words. Chat Noi— NO, ADRIEN— ADRIEN FUCKING AGRESTE looks at her and is like "oh ha :) .... Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? You're the girl who wanted to punch me hahaha"

after recovering from her world being shattered, she's like...... "hahaha...... um............... yeah...... uh..... so you... DO know who i am. and you're just. ignoring it then. hahaha... ok... thats....... fine..... anyway..... u-uh...... im not... gonna actually punch you. but. um. k-kitty do you um. maybe want to stop promoting deforestation and all that"

he's like "I don't"

she's like. "yes you do. literally in your newest ad you said to the camera 'who needs trees when bottled air is the way of the future'. like did you really read that line out loud and not see a problem with it"

"yeah, that wasn't me"

"what are you talking abou—"

"it's deepfaked"

"..... what"

"all of my ads in the past few years are deepfakes. I complained too much so my father fired me. turns out that i signed away all rights to my face and voice to him when I was 13 or something. he can just use my face and voice and name however he wants. he generates ads. i dont even have access to the 'Adrien Agreste' twitter or insta accounts. sometimes he makes me do runways but beyond that I'm not involved in all."

"... ... ... ... ... what"

"yeah haha... :") im sorry. i wish i could help you more. but he never listens to me. i don't like it either, i.... i've asked him to stop sooo many times. but he never listens to me. i hate seeing my face used without my consent but haha.... i don't... have any rights here so. sorry. i really wish i could help more"

and now marinette hates "Adrien Agreste"�� ads/posts EVEN MORE and is threatening to kill Gabriel Agreste himself. all while kissing the real adrien agreste silly

[lowkeyremi]

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond��s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[astonmartinii]

the father who stepped up | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem gasly!reader

mr leclerc has been spotted with an all too familiar dog recently.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | BROTHER'S BFF MASTERLIST

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 1,094,523 others

yourusername: ceo of milf industries

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user1: i am NO better than a man

user2: i think enough time has passed... when do we get enzo's paddock debut

user3: i'm hearing monaco at least

pierregasly: this is false advertising

yourusername: enzo is my child, i am his mother

pierregasly: you're not cute enough to be a milf, sorry!

yourusername: just cause you've got the hairline of a grandpa is not mine or enzo's fault

pierregasly: MY HAIRLINE IS FINE

yourusername: PUSH BACK THE FRINGE

pierregasly: how dare you! this is a big insecurity of mine - you are NOT a girl's girl

yourusername: pierre why is mum calling me? PIERRE WHY IS MUM CALLING ME?

user4: i bet they have a get along shirt

yourusername: all i can say is that someone rocks it, and someone doesn't

pierregasly: are you still being mean while on the phone to mum????

yourusername: the hater grind never stops

estebanocon: enzo is getting so big 😭😭😭

yourusername: time flies, oh gosh i'm crying

estebanocon: motherhood does that to you

user5: i love how pierre and este are mortal enemies but y/n is besties with him regardless

yourusername: an opp of pierre is a friend of mine

charles_leclerc: cutest boy in the world

yourusername: i didn't know you had given up that title?

charles_leclerc: oh i-

pierregasly: STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM AND STOP BLUSHING IT'S JUST Y/N

user6: say it's just y/n as if it's NOT Y/N??

liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly: I SAW THAT

pierregasly

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 897,556 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: what's the point of having a sister if you can't steal her dog

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user7: this pooch has to be one of the most spoilt and pampered dogs in the world

user8: i wish i died and was reincarnated as enzo

yourusername: oh sure, i'm sure i'm great for plucking your eyebrows and helping you text back girls (@francisca.cgomes you're welcome)

pierregasly: do you mind?

yourusername: did you really ever think you'd pull kika with your charm alone?

pierregasly: yes?

yourusername: the delusion of men should be studied

pierregasly: do i have to call mum again?

yourusername: you call yourself tripod, if anything i should be calling the POLICE

user9: i know kika must have the patience of a saint to deal with their bickering

user10: i fear for any man who wants to get with y/n cause lord knows at his big age pierre will be wheeling out the overprotective brother act

pierregasly: that's my god given right

yukitsunoda0511: not in the photo dump... i see how it is

yourusername: every girl for themselves sorry yuki san

yukitsunoda0511: i think pierre is just jealous of our looks

yourusername: i think that is exactly it yuki

charles_leclerc: yuki not in the post but i wasn't even invited 🤨

pierregasly: you're literally in italy?

charles_leclerc: and?

pierregasly: god forbid a man doesn't want to be bullied by you and y/n

yourusername: (pussy)

user11: not to be a freak but charles and y/n would be so cute together

pierregasly: say anything like that again and you're getting blocked

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

pierregasly: excuse me?

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, joris_trouche and 2.784,566 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: no paternity test needed

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user15: okay.... like... they're slay

user16: i'm personally going to celebrate now before the pierre tantrum

yourusername: oh i've already blocked his number lol

pierregasly: knock knock

yourusername: HELP HE DROVE ALL THE WAY FROM PARIS

user17: is charles dead? can we have a sign of life?

charles_leclerc: they can't get rid of me bitch

pierregasly: you're hiding in the bathroom I CAN HEAR YOU GUYS GIGGLING

yourusername: you're BREAKING AND ENTERING

pierregasly: i have a key?

charles_leclerc: for emergencies?

pierregasly: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I NEED TO BEAT YOUR ASS

yourusername: not his ass!!!! it's so cute :(

pierregasly: not the time

user18: i can't - why are they having a conversation in the comment section when they're separated by a single door

pierregasly: WHY IS ESTEBAN HERE????????????

estebanocon: 1. i love drama and i love annoying you 2. y/n called me as back up

yourusername: you're being insane and i needed the lanky man to escort you out!

pierregasly: i just want to talk

yourusername: I CAN HEAR THE SOCK

charles_leclerc: THE SOCK?

estebanocon: i can confirm he has the sock

yukitsunoda0511: why don't i know what the sock is :(

yourusername: it's a sock full of loose change that you swing as a weapon @ MEN OF ITALY PLEASE MOBILISE YOUR GOD IS IN DANGER

charles_leclerc: tell enzo i love him :((((((

pierregasly: WHY IS MAX HERE AS WELL?

maxverstappen1: i am nosey

maxverstappen1: and esteban left the door open

danielricciardo: i am also here

alexalbon: me too, @yourusername can i have some of the dessert in the fridge?

yourusername: is the entire population of monaco in our house?

charles_leclerc: with that many witnesses he can't do anything

pierregasly: WHY DID YOU GUYS GIVE THEM ENOUGH TIME TO GET OUT AND LET Y/N GET HER SOCK

pierregasly: HELPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

user19: what the fuck have i just read?

user20: are alpine down a driver?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 1,789,467 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: did you guys know i recently became an only child?

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user23: now this could either mean that she has disowned pierre or that we did actually witness murder by sock

user24: enzo down an uncle

maxverstappen1: i am more than ready to take his spot

danielricciardo: me too

alexalbon: me three

pierregasly: i'm still alive?

yourusername: GHOST 🫵🏻

charles_leclerc: someone get the sage STAT

pierregasly; do not try and cleanse me away

yourusername: then stop STINKING UP THE GAFF WITH YOUR ATTITUDE

pierregasly: THEN STOP FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND

charles_leclerc: 🤓👆 she's actually in love with me

yourusername: that's true i am actually in love with him

pierregasly: there's a difference?

yourusername: your fuckboy is showing... kika i'm so sorry

user25: we got a 'LOVE' guys it's real

yourusername: we have a child, this is so real

charles_leclerc: locked in for life 🫰🏻

estebanocon: he just passed out in the sim

yourusername: good 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: he'll come around at some point, but for right now i love you too much to care

yourusername: i love you too charlie x

charles_leclerc: i love you more

yourusername: NOT POSSIBLE

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, arthurleclerc and 2,309,877 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: two years strong, no pierre tantrum can stop that :P

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user26: this is my official countdown to another pierre meltdown.

pierregasly: TWO YEARS? TWO YEARS? 730 DAYS? I CAN'T BE BOTHERED/CAN'T DO ANY MORE MATHS THAN THAT?

charles_leclerc: bro is proving why we didn't tell him in real time

pierregasly: i will choke you

charles_leclerc: you can't kill enzo's dad and be an absent uncle?

pierregasly: I AM NOT AN ABSENT UNCLE WHERE ARE YOU?

yourusername: newsflash bozo we thought ahead and are at a super secret second location

pierregasly: are you at max's?

yourusername: yes.

pierregasly: i knew you were too lazy to leave the building

yourusername: but you don't have a key to his place 😤

user27: y/n is real for that

maxverstappen1: EVERYONE BEHOLD I AM ABOUT TO COMPLIMENT CHARLES: enzo is very well trained and good with the cats

charles_leclerc: why thank you max

maxverstappen1: he must get it from his mother

charles_leclerc: rude! i thought this was a compliment to me?

yourusername: if it is my trait, it's singularly mine god lord it hasn't been passed down to all the gasly kids

pierregasly: i can read that you know

yourusername: you can read? next you're going to tell me you're potty trained as well

pierregasly: that's it i'm calling mum again

charles_leclerc: btw she already knows about us - i got permission from your parents

pierregasly: SO EVERYONE KNEW

yukitsunoda0511: i didn't :(

pierregasly: you're not in the family yuki that's not a big surprise

yukitsunoda0511: that's not what you said the other day... :((((((

pierregasly: i can't win these days

user28: first the alpine tractor and now this, pierre can't catch a break

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,784,560 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

pierregasly: i guess we're bffs for life now

view all comments

user32: balance has been restored to the force

user33: the way it only took some puppy dog eyes from both charles and enzo and the past three week civil war was forgiven

yourusername: thank god, you really aren't made to be a drama queen, keep it for the radio

pierregasly: you're just lucky you chose a guy i like

yourusername: you forced me to hang out with him my whole life, so really this is all your fault.

pierregasly: ????

yourusername: it's always a man's fault

pierregasly: i give up. you win. sure it was my fault

user34: y/n ain't never losing an argument i feel sorry for pierre and charles

charles_leclerc: she's never wrong 🫡

yourusername: this is how it should be ladies

charles_leclerc: how does it feel to be the third favourite to your parents now?

pierregasly: really? i can get the sock back out?

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry!!!

pierregasly: but you are right, y/n is the favourite

yourusername: baby is always the favourite

arthurleclerc: true

charles_leclerc: 🙄

pierregasly: 🙄

yourusername: are we done being dramatic now? can i come to races and can we go to dinner?

pierregasly: don't you dare wear red

yourusername: too late :P

pierregasly: excuse me

yourusername: i've always been wearing red in some way every race

charles_leclerc: i can confirm

pierregasly: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

fin.

note: finally back with my fave ever trope and the pics of little leo just gave me that burst of inspiration. leo is so cute and so is the ice cream, charles really coming for babygirl of the year

[earl-of-221b]

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader Chapters Chapter 1 (You're here) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 1

You can't remember a time when you didn't live under the roof of Wayne Manor. Those hallways that for a 4-year-old child seemed chilling and eternal, today you consider a prison. And no, they don't keep you locked up or anything like that, in fact they give you a lot of freedom within this house, but you can consider that so-called 'freedom' as negligence.

Yes, negligence. Of course you had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, a roof to shelter in, but what about love? If they could ask you if you have ever felt loved in your home, the answer would be simple.

No not once

Bruce Wayne, your father, may be one of the biggest billionaires in this world but it seems his love and attention was limited towards you. But, with your brothers? It seemed to be an endless well of love and patience that he gave them.

Unconditional love, something you always looked for.

Or maybe he was busy owning one of the most successful companies in the world or cosplaying a vampire to help the city.

Yes… in short, Bruce no longer knew what excuse to give himself for not spending time with you.

And your brothers? They weren't much better. Richard "Dick" Grayson may be very loving and charming but with you? You were just a zero on the left. He didn't think you needed attention as much as his traumatized brothers and sisters. You, being a normal civilian, knew that you were safe from anything, so he only limited himself to greeting you with that little smile that at first seemed warm to you, but now it just cracks your teeth to see it.

As if he were the perfect brother.

Jason Todd was everything to you until it became nothing. You met him in his days as Robin and the truth is he was nice to you and you had a good relationship with him (they are only three years apart). When Dick wasn't at the mansion he would play with you and let you watch him train. He was your greatest confidant, your best friend… Until the Joker killed him. When he came back to life you couldn't recognize him, was he really your brother? A being full of hate and revenge? So much so that even though he saw you once after years, he just turned around.

And although he already has a better relationship with his family, it seems that your loving relationship as brothers ended that day he died. He didn't even look at you, much less talk to you.

What a hypocrite.

You can't say anything about Timothy Drake.  Seriously, and it's not because he's a great brother, it's because you've literally never talked to him.  You only know of his existence because of the times Dick shouted his name in excitement at him every time he came to the mansion and because you found out that Todd wanted to kill him.  Furthermore, your room and his are in the same hallway with the slight difference that your room was at the end.

Spoiled child...

Damian Wayne was a totally unique case.  He was violent and explosive but apparently your father preferred him over you.  Damian considered you a zero on the left.  He never found value in you, neither in your physique (you didn't fight), nor in your mind (you're not outstanding) so he didn't waste even a second insulting you or degrading you.

According to him, you were just a nuisance to the Wayne family and a disappointment to the Batfamily. And it didn't matter if you were going to complain to Bruce about Damian's behavior, he always made excuses for it.

Is this how unconditional love looks like?

Cassandra Cain was another ghost like you inside the mansion... With the only difference that she did pay attention to her even though she didn't talk much.  She was never interested in interacting with you even though you tried several times.

Even a mute could attract more attention than you...

Stephanie Brown.  An extroverted girl who wasn't afraid to give her opinion, but apparently she didn't have any opinion about you.  She always gets excited to see others and she was quick to look for things to do with them.  But, if she saw you, she would just give you a slightly awkward smile and she would get out of there quickly.

She runs away from you like you have the plague.

Barbara Gordon is seen by most of the family as an older sister, however you see her as a grumpy secretary.  You could be the most respectful person in the world towards her but just seeing you next to her asking what she was doing made her look at you as if you were a villain she is looking for.

I'm sure she hasn't seen a villain with the irritation she sees you with.

Duke Thomas is the new addition to the Wayne Family.  You have nothing against him, he is a kind and smiling boy. Who you could even consider to be the kindest to you of all your brothers.

When he first came to Wayne Manor, despite you being a nobody in that family, he took an interest in you. At first you thought he did it out of pity, but when one day you heard him asking Alfred where you were because he wanted to show you something, that's when you realized he wasn't doing it out of pity. And that made you feel special, being the sibling Duke turned to.

But you couldn't help but hate how easily he integrated into the family. How easily they accepted him.

And last but not least, Alfred Pennyworth.  He tried to be there for you and he encouraged you to keep trying to get your family's attention. But even with the butler's attention you couldn't help but long for the affection of your father and brothers.

You are more sure that without him you would have gone crazy in that big mansion. 

For that reason, the only ones you would miss once you left that place would be Alfred and Duke.

"Would you be mad at me if I decided to leave the mansion?”

What a bad way to start a conversation.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter. As was custom you watched Alfred make breakfast, occasionally helping him. The butler, upon hearing your question, momentarily stopped what he was doing. Thanks to his poker face, Alfred didn't show any surprise but you knew well that he wasn't expecting that question.

"Pardon me, master (name)?”

"Would you forget about me if I left the mansion?" you asked

"Of course not!" Alfred quickly answered, his tone of voice a little high. However, upon noticing the change in his tone of voice he composed his posture again.

“I mean, of course I would never forget you, master (name). Why do you ask me those questions?”

"You know why Alfie" you sighed.

Alfred likewise sighed and turned off the stove where he was cooking. He walked over to you and sat down in front of you.

"Master (name)…" he was saying but you interrupted him.

"No Alfred… Could you let me talk… please..?" you asked gently but firmly

"Since I came to this place fifteen years ago I have always been part of the ghosts of this mansion and- and I got tired of being that. For a long time I have been thinking about moving somewhere else, away from this mansion, away from them…” You said that last sentence angrier but you controlled your temper.

"But… I can't leave knowing that you don't agree with my decision. I can't stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

You couldn't even imagine a world where he, Alfred Pennyworth, the man who decided to take your father's tablecloth, was angry with you. But even if he gets angry at your decision, you are going to follow your plan to leave the city.

Alfred smiled slightly and took your hand.

"You know very well that I would support you in whatever my little one does. Unless that decision put your life in danger of course" they both laughed at that comment.

"So that's a yes?" you asked with hope in your eyes and voice

"Yes" he nodded "Just take care of yourself"

You could see in his eyes that there was a bit of fear in his eyes as well as something else that you didn't know what it was and you didn't pay attention to it at that moment.

You should have paid more attention to him in that moment.

"Thanks Alfie" you hugged him regardless of the fact that the table was between the two of you. The butler hugged you anyway, his hug felt warm and safe.

"You don't have to thank me, Master (name)"

Then you broke away from the hug and ran to your room with a big smile on your face. You were finally going to be able to live the way you wanted, without living in the shadow of everyone. Finally free.

Once in your room you started making some calls and organizing your things quietly (not that the inhabitants of this mansion cared much about what you did) so as not to attract attention. In a week, this place will only be a bad dream and you will be able to move from this nightmare to a dream with a happy ending.

Or not?

Hellooo! I hope you liked the start of this story! To be honest, this has been something I have wanted to do for a long time. And Let me remind you that English isn't my first language so if you find some mistakes I would appreciate fo you to tell me in a good way.

Anyway, if you liked it I'll appreciate for you leave a heart.

See you in the next one!!

-Izadi <3

[sadesluvr]

Beautiful Liar

After you boyfriend Randy is tragically murdered, Billy is determined to be the shoulder you cry on.

A/N: Been sitting on this idea for a while. Please read the tags, and minors DNI!

Word count: 3.6K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Dacryphilia / Manipulation / Grief / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Loss of virginity / Corruption kink / Gaslighting / Misogyny / Reader has a vagina / Fingering

Randy Meeks was dead, and there was no way to change that.  

He’d been murdered, brutally; his body in tatters, bloody mess left on the stockroom floor of the video store he’d worked at. Police had said it was a homicide, just another in a series of attacks by the infamous masked ‘Ghostface’ killer that had been running around Woodsboro. The whole town, your friend group included, had been speculating the person – or people’s - identity, wondering if they were male or female, old or young, insider or outsider...either way, the sole question was why. Why Woodsboro? Why now? Why your friends?  

The simple answer – in Randy’s case at least – was that you were living in a classic horror movie, in which none of you would get out of alive unless you followed the rules, (which was the sole reason why you hadn’t slept with him during your relationship) but that particular answer was far from satisfying to you. First Sidney’s mother had disappeared, next was Casey and her boyfriend, soon followed by Sidney’s father, Tatum, Randy and Sidney herself, leaving only you to remain. You were, as Randy would dub it, ‘the final girl’. 

And you hated it. Randy painted these women as strong, brave, heroic, even, but you were far from it; instead worn down and shattered by the massacre of those closest to you over the past six months. There was a reason that the term was only reserved for the movies; it was too difficult, maybe even downright impossible to be able to fight back in real life, especially when it had happened so constantly and so close to home. There were few words you had to speak anymore, and when you did you found that they were only able to materialise around Billy Loomis. 

Billy, and his friend Stu Macher were the only of those that remained. Randy would’ve chalked it down to it being intentional, but the only pattern you could see was that they were killing ‘boy-girl-boy-girl’, which meant either of the two could’ve been next. 

So, imagine your shock – and horror – when Stu had gone missing, leaving nothing but a bloodied shoe in his wake. It was the only death of your friends that you hadn’t been to; no morgue visits or ceremonies, with Billy choosing to spend the day with you after he claimed that the Macher’s had just wanted family at his funeral. You would’ve been hurt, but considering you’d spent the past few months feeling like a curse, you were rather happy to keep your distance. 

“Thanks for staying with me…” you sighed, rubbing your red eyes. You’d been crying over Randy again, and although Billy wasn’t someone who liked dealing with emotions, he’d been a shoulder to cry on – literally – his silence giving you space to vent. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess…” 

“I think you’re taking this too hard,” he said simply, watching you intently as you tried to compose yourself. “None of this is your fault. There are psychos everywhere.” 

“Yeah, but why us? How am I still here?” you gasped, the question blatantly rhetorical.  

“Luck. And skill. You’ve been in the right place at the right time,” he sniffed. “Maybe the killer doesn’t want you dead...” 

“Oh, that’s comforting.” You scoffed, dabbing at your nose with a tissue. He didn’t reply, but he tapped his finger impatiently along the edge of the sofa as his eyes roamed your body.  

You used to be such a sweet little thing; always dolled up in your signature clothes and makeup, but now you were timid, a recluse, even, walking around in Randy’s old shirts and running on two hours of sleep (if that). He couldn’t argue – solely because he’d been the one to cause this - but in time he’d get you back to the way you were. In fact, he might’ve even enjoyed this broken version of you even more; with swollen lips, a melancholy glow, and a psyche that was desperate for affection that only your former boyfriend could’ve given to you. 

Killing Randy had been exhilarating. It’d been all too easy, the boy practically boasted about his job (and therefore his schedule), and then it had been down to hiding in the stock room on his late shift, only to lunge at him from the shadows, pointed blade digging in and ravaging his pale flesh, all the while he screamed – even cried – your name. That was your knight in shining armour, a guy who’d failed to follow the rules he swore to live by. Pathetic. 

He’d shown him his face right before he died, remembering the way his eyes, though dull and rubber like a fish, had seemingly shone with recognition. He’d put the pieces together, simply far too late. 

“Don’t worry, Randy,” he’d said. “I’ll take good care of your little girlfriend.” 

Even in his moribund state, the nerd had known what he’d meant, his eyes flickering with worry just as the life had snapped out of him, the whole situation comically cinematic. All that was next was to kill Sidney, the girl that Randy adored before you’d even transferred to Woodsboro. It was simple; Sidney was collateral, and you were a spoil of war. And there was no one left to save you. 

“I think you should go outside,” Billy said bluntly. “Being inside all day isn’t good for your head.” 

You sighed and wiped your face, glancing around your living room. Truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d opened the curtains; much less when was the last time you’d gotten off the couch. The television was always on, and you’d done nothing but aimlessly flick through the channels, both avoiding yet drawing yourself to the news, hoping there’d be an update on the killer. It struck you as odd that it had all gone silent. 

“Like...Where?” you said incredulously, and Billy resisted the urge to sigh. 

“We could go to the movies,” he suggested. “It’ll be on me. I’ll even let you watch those terrible romance ones with the sappy endings.” 

You seemed to perk up at this, glancing over at the time on the clock across the room. It was 6:15, and if you showered quick enough (and found some clean, unwrinkled clothes) you could make it to a random seven o’clock screening. It was kind enough that Billy was here with you, but offering to take you to a romance film took selfishness out of the question – he was a true friend, treating you in the same way he had Sidney.

You, like many others, had joked about how perfect he was, often wishing that Randy had been the same way. He’d been nice, without a doubt, but sometimes he was erratic and clingy (some would say annoying), whereas Billy was far more level-headed and relaxed, evident through his constant support. It was time for you to smile, even if it would be temporary. 

“Okay...” You whispered with a weak smile, standing to your feet. “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna freshen up.”   

Billy’s deep brown eyes followed your figure as you walked past him and disappeared up the stairs. Sitting for a moment, he stared at the blaring screen of the television before shutting it off. Considering your state, he’d been surprised that it had been that easy, but apparently all it took for a girl to come around was the promise of a free outing and cliche love stories. The silence was telling – your parents weren’t around – and he pondered your reaction to his arrival in your bedroom...for company, of course. 

Pushing himself up from the couch, he followed you, his shoes barely making a noise as he made his way up the steps before stopping at your bedroom door, being a gentleman and taking his shoes off before he entered. A crack of light from the doorway of the bathroom told him that it was occupied, and so he took it as a signal to enter your threshold, wasting no time in rummaging through your drawers.  

He ran his lithe fingers over the outlines of your bra, following the soft cotton and curved shape as he imagined holding your tits in his hands, groping and tugging on them as you rode his cock, screaming and moaning his name so loudly that you forgot all about your idiot boyfriend.

It was the same with your panties, except he wanted to cut them off you, to watch as your legs trembled from trying to avoid the blade; only to get nipped, ruby rivulets trickling down your thighs. He’d rub it, smear the substance across your skin as he tried to soothe you, your fluids coating his skin and fingernails, only to been mixed with the translucent l cream of your orgasm – over and over and over again.  

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he waited for you to come in, raising his brows at your squeal upon seeing him. You were only in a dressing gown, with your bra peeking out of the sides of the fluffy material. If he wasn’t already hard, he certainly was now. 

“Billy!” You gasped. “I told you to wait downstairs!” 

“I got bored,” he shrugged. “I wanted to see more of you.” 

You gave him a pointed look as you scraped your earrings off the dresser, clipping them on as you paced around the room in search of an outfit.  

“You know me,” you chuckled. “We’ve been friends for a year.” 

“Yeah, but do you ever really know someone?” He said softly, his gaze locked on your own as he cocked his head, blinking slowly at your confused expression. There was something unsettling about his tone, and you couldn’t help but think back to one of Randy’s many pained rants: “Never trust anyone. Everyone’s a suspect, even the love interest!” Did he know something you didn’t, or was he just being his typical, elusive self?

“I mean, come on now, Y/N. Look around. There’s no one left…just us. I think it’s time we got to know each-other.” 

Pulling on some pants under your gown, you frowned. 

“What’re you saying?” 

“We should be closer than we are,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the strap of your gown leisurely, his eye contact fleeting, but coy. “How else are we going to get through this?” 

Your eyes widened, and you gave Billy a once over as you contemplated the implications of his words. He’d never really been that much of the touchy type up until now, and it couldn’t be coincidental that all of a sudden he’d become so close to you. Perhaps it was the stress; the trauma of losing his friends that made him feel like he needed to fill the void. Or maybe it was genuine, that he wanted to stick through this real-life tragedy with you. Why else would he stay the long nights and weekends, watching TV with you or offering you his snacks?  

“Y-You’re a good friend,” you stammered. “Really. But I just don’t know if I can let anyone close to me anymore. What if you get killed!?” You choked, and Billy pulled you to the side of him, pressing your head into the crook of his neck as you sobbed. Tracing small circles on your back, he let you fix yourself before he pulled away, staring into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I promise. And you know why?” 

You shook your head. 

“I spoke to Randy a few days before he died. He was  paranoid – you know how he was – I guess you could say that he had a sense he was going to die…” Billy paused, eyes flickering with recognition before he swallowed and continued. “…He said that if anything were to happen to him, that I should be the one to take care of you. He knew how close you were with Sidney, and she’d have wanted the same.” 

Shakily, your lips parted as you took a breath. Sidney, like many others, had always gushed about how sweet Billy was – particularly how patient he’d been when it’d come to having sex. It would only be logical for them to say that, given the fact that Stu was the only other candidate. No one else would’ve stuck beside you, putting up with your weeks of moping and incessant crying. It was only right that you started giving him some thanks. After all, he was all you had left. 

“O-okay,” you smiled softly before wrinkling your nose. You were so close to Billy that strands of his hair was grazing against your face, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne – icy, yet comforting. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I guess I got so wrapped up in thinking about Randy that I haven’t really been grateful to you. Come on, let’s go out —“ 

“This isn’t about the movies.” Billy interjected, his brows slightly  wrinkled. “This is about you. You’re a girl, and you have needs.”  

You froze, always worried it would come to this.  

“I can’t let you do that,” you said affirmatively. “You were with Sidney, she was my friend —“ 

“She’s gone now,” he said, zero inklings of emotion detected within his voice. “Just like Randy’s gone. I have needs too, you know. You’re not really being a good friend by ignoring them.” 

“Billy…” 

“You mean a lot to me,” he continued, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a slow but enticing manner. “I think about you a lot. I want to do more to help you…but you’re not letting me.” 

You knew it was wrong to go there, but part of you knew that he had a point. There was no use in festering in misery; Randy, Sidney and the rest of your friends were gone for good, and there was ultimately nothing that would change that. All you could do was focus on what you had now, and that was Billy; patient, willing, and ready to carry out the wishes of your deceased friends. You just had to let him in. 

Silently, you nodded, and he took that as confirmation to kiss you. His lips were warm and wanting, but certainly felt unfamiliar, and you found that it took you a while to find a suitable rhythm. Billy wasted no time in pushing you back onto the bed, kissing down your neck as he straddled you, the faint outline of his hardening cock brushing against your covered leg. His hands lingered on the tie of your robe, glancing down at it with a smirk before pulling it undone, exposing your semi-nude torso to the cool air of the bedroom. 

Your heart leapt out of your chest; not because what you were doing was taboo, but because you’d never done it before. You were about to lose your virginity to your dead friend’s boyfriend – something that your cloudy mind couldn’t comprehend.  

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaving love bits on your chest as his fingers slipped under your bra and pinching and rubbing at the surrounding skin and sensitive nipples. “Randy didn’t know what he had…” 

Letting out a moan, you allowed yourself to be consumed by him, pushing off his open button-up so that he was left in his white shirt. He didn’t look much, but his arms were surprisingly muscular, and you found yourself tracing along the outlines of his skin, inadvertently pulling him closer.  

Billy pulled away, a smirk visible on his face as he unzipped his pants, sliding his trousers to his ankles before readjusting himself on the bed. Taking your hand, he guided you off the bed and brought you to your feet. 

“Strip for me,” he lulled, watching you intently for a reaction. “I want to see how pretty you are…” 

Nervously, you peeled the robe off your body, dropping it to the floor at the edge of your bed before undoing your pants, all under the watchful, jaded eyes of Billy Loomis. As cliched as it sounded, you felt like a bride on her wedding night, nerves released by Billy’s soothing coos and gentle touch. He patted the bed – yours, which you seemed to forget – and you laid down, taking laboured breaths as his brown locks disappeared between your thighs, skin breaking into goosebumps as he slid your panties down your legs. 

“You’re wet...” he hummed, placing his index and middle together before rubbing your hood in small, deliberate circles. “I think you wanted me more than you let on.” 

“B-Billy...” you gasped, shutting your eyes at the pleasurable sensation. “I-I’ve never...” 

“Shh, I know, I know...” he whispered, his touch becoming rougher as he prodded and spread your lips apart, admiring your insides like some sort of fucked-up doctor. “ ‘M gonna make you feel good, but you need a little practise first...” 

Billy began to finger you, withdrawing his digits every so often to admire the way the slickness of your arousal coated his skin, glossy and translucent, the feeling second only to the blood of his victims on his skin. As he curled his fingers within you, he found that you began to shake and clench; your orgasm abruptly evident.

As much as he wanted to indulge in it, he wanted to savour you – and so pulled his fingers out, earning a breathy whine from you. Hastily, he lowered his boxers, his erect cock jutting out like a weapon as he stalked you, pushing your body deep into the pillows as he straddled you. 

“D-Do you have protection...?” you whispered meekly, and Billy could’ve came right there and then at the sight of you, lips parted and begging to be kissed as you gazed at him through your lashes.  

“No...” he replied, watching the fear wash over your face. “But it’s ok. I was safe with Sidney, and you’ve never had sex, right? That means you’re good.” 

Biting your lip, you debated protesting, but found it wasn't worth it. You wanted him – needed this – and you were already sinning by fucking your dead friends’ boyfriend. What did unprotected sex have on that? 

“You’re right,” you said with a small smile, puffing your cheeks as you prepared for him to enter you. “Be gentle...” 

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he said firmly, eyes unblinking as he adjusted himself at your entrance, the edge of his cock grazing against your folds. “We’re in this together, remember?” 

You knew he meant it when he kissed you upon his penetration, his lips swallowing your whine as he entered you. He wasn’t by any means a stallion – simply averaged sized – but he filled you almost instantly, a dull ache forming around your walls as he began to thrust his hips up into you. If this was what sex was like; rhythmic, passionate, if not a little sharp-edged, then you were partially sad that you hadn’t got to experience it with Randy...the remaining deeply selfish part of you glad that it was with Billy. 

He seemed to know every part of you, where to kiss, where to rub, where to hold – when to slow down and when to quicken, all adorned with his sweet nothings that he spoke into your neck, ever so occasionally peering up at you through his lashes, his exact thoughts elusive to you. He cared, right? Why else would he hold you so close to him, kiss your collarbone, rub and soothe your thighs as he rolled his hips deeper, your pelvises slapping against each other in the heat of the moment? 

“You’re so tight,” he moaned as your lips gripped his bare shaft. “So good to me...Taking me so well...” 

You whined, the sound getting lost under the slight creaking of the bed and the rustle of your bedsheets, tightening your arms around his neck as you drew him closer into you and running a hand through his hair. Billy was thankful, thankful that you couldn’t see his shit-eating smirk from this position onto of you, but much more for Randy; as if he hadn’t had been such a paranoid nerd, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to imprint himself on you forever. 

His strokes were deep and fulfilling, the head of his cock beginning to buck up into your g-spot, pleasure made more overwhelming as he reached down again to rub at your clit. It was dark, somewhat twisted, but it was perfect; and you could actually feel your anxieties disappear entirely. Who was Randy? Had you ever really loved him? 

Even amongst your white haze as you got closer to the heat of your orgasm, you were able to make out the sound of a lock opening. Your eyes shot open, trying to piece together footsteps and visible signs of entry – Billy had been the only one to come in, perhaps he’d forgotten to lock the door? Or maybe it was your parents, home early from their outing? Worse, maybe it was the killer, dead on arrival like the Grim Reaper as soon as you’d gone against the rules and had sex. 

“Billy —“ you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock hit your sensitive spot. “The door…I-I think someone’s here…” 

“Shh, you’re okay…” he murmured into your ear. “I didn’t hear anything…” 

A plunging, shaking feeling consumed you as you came, half-lidded eyes making out the shape of a gloved hand and knife creeping from behind the door. Instinctively, you opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came from it. All you could do was lie there, throat parched and the air knocked out of your lungs as you watched the figure enter the room; not hooded, masked or even bloody – but taking the shape and form of a tall, lanky boy with blonde hair. 

Stu was alive, and Billy had lied to you.