#God's blessings come all the time! in so many different ways!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

littol brown snake at work today. juvenile. apparently their bites can be fatal even as juveniles! but it was really cute - I saw it first and trotted off and told higher-ups like a good little girl. we closed the door so the snakeling could not get out and cause havoc; I kept walking past and wanting to open the door and look at it again, because it was so beautiful. but I refrained.

[strang3lov3]

Scrub Daddy

QZ Joel visits you for a bath and a little extra (4.7k)

Tags - smut, dom!joel, mean!joel if you squint and I mean really squint because he does in fact fuck you with a certain kindness in his heart. dirty talking you through it. Ah, fuck it. Who am I kidding. pervy!joel too. dubcon, coercion, unprotected PIV, hand job, nyasty QZ joel eats it from the back, ass play and a tasteful amount of ass eating, nipple play, come shot, sex work, takes place in a brothel, JOEL SOUP (bathing that old man), Joel Miller hog reveal (it’s gargantuan, ludicrously capacious if you will), Joel Miller enjoys the finer things in life ie. pussy, Joel Miller tummy. Joel Miller's broad shoulders come with their own warning. Fic help - @beefrobeefcal @noxturnalnymph @endlessthxxghts Thank you all for your brains and eyeballs! A/N - MONTHS AND MONTHS LATE BUUUUT this is for my sweetheart @merz-8 who so generously streams herself playing TLOU and red dead for me 🩷 this fic is inspired by the many times she bathes Arthur. Mercy I love you!!!!!

Joel turns the tap on his shower and with his eyebrows raised, waits quietly to hear the sound of water rushing through the pipes in the wall. Nothing. “God bless it,” he mutters. The water’s been shut off for the past month or so in his apartment complex. He pays extra to have it but alas, nothing fucking works in the QZ. Everything’s broken down, falling apart, or will fall apart - it’s just a matter of time. 

Joel’s got limited options. He could visit the showers downtown, get hosed down like a dog with cold water that feels like knives in his skin, although the showers don’t open until 5AM tomorrow morning. He could wait it out, though he’s pretty fucking rank; he needs a shower yesterday. He could also rinse off at the sink with a damp rag. 

He thinks to himself, hands on his hips and biting his cheeks, weighing his options. Damp rag it is. Joel opens his linen closet and takes his ratty, stringy old rag with him to the kitchen. He wets it with the water from the five gallon jug allotted for drinking, then reaches for the FEDRA issued bar soap that’s meant to be used for everything - hand washing, dishes, laundry, et cetera, et cetera. Joel takes off his shirt and then lathers the bar soap in the rag, the clean and flowery smell permeating the air. He loves this scent - he doesn’t always get this specific one when he picks up his hygiene supplies once a month. God, when did he smell this last? Feels like deja vu. It’s so familiar, it couldn't have been too long ago…

Then the memory hits him: the whorehouse over at the old hotel. That’s where he smelled this soap last. It’s in the men’s rooms but more pertinent to Joel at this moment, it’s the soap used in the bathing rooms - different from the men’s rooms. Joel scoffs and puts the soap and rag on the kitchen counter. Yeah, he smirks to himself, that’s where he’ll catch a bath tonight. He puts his denim shirt back on, stuffs some clean clothes into his leather backpack and heads off into the night for the hotel. 

Joel’s strategic in how he gets there. Curfew’s at six, and it’s eight right now. FEDRA’s not too kind to those out after hours. He moves stealthily through alleyways, avoiding the harsh, white light of the soldier’s flashlights shining from above. Once at the old hotel, Joel knocks in a particular pattern on the side door. On the other side, a man peers through the peephole and verifies Joel’s identity, then opens the door just enough for Joel to slide on through, his belly rubbing against the edge of the doorframe.

It’s dingy on the inside, dark and lit sparingly only by some candles. Joel makes his way to the front room where a different man sits at a table. Joel reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ration cards, flipping through the notes with a practiced flick of his thumb. “M’in need of a shower,” he says, laying the cards down on the table. He scans the room, recognizes a few familiar faces. 

The man covers the notes with his hand and slides them toward himself, then counts the cards through and nods. “Fourth floor, third door on the right.” 

Wordlessly, Joel heads up the staircase, knees cracking on about every other step. God, he’s getting old. Once at the fourth floor, Joel heads for that third door on the right and pushes it open with one hand, unbuttoning his denim shirt with ease using the other. 

This room is different from the others at this brothel. It has no bed, no carpeting, no soft surfaces of any kind that would be typical for activities performed in a place such as this. This room has just one large bath tub in the middle with a small table next to it, and in the corner is a small lamp, covering the room with a low golden glow. Once-green peeling paint covers the walls instead of torn floral wallpaper and cracks cover every tile on the floor below. Joel peels his clothes off and wraps a faded pink towel around his waist, his tummy bulging over the edge. He waits patiently next to the tub for a knock at the door. 

-

Your hands are wobbling in the dressing room. There’s really not much to dress yourself with, no makeup or anything like that. One of the girls suggested melting a colored pencil with some hot water or a lighter and then using that to paint your lips and cheeks, but she wouldn’t share her own with you. In the mirror, you fix your hair and straighten your borrowed dress, breathing deeply to try and calm your nerves. It’s your first night working here at the brothel, and you’re really not sure what to expect. 

Your boss, Jim, knocks on the dressing room door as a courtesy, but doesn’t wait to make sure everyone is decent. He just waltzes right in and announces to you all that there’s a client in room three waiting for bath assistance.

“Do you know who it is?” one of the girls asks Jim. 

“Yeah,” Jim answers. “Joel Miller. Who’s taking him?”  

The girl who gave you the tip on the colored pencils turns to her friends and whispers, then turns back to you. “You should take him,” she tells you. “You’ll love Joel, he’s nice. Very gentle with his girls. A real lover.” 

Her smile feels disingenuous, and it doesn’t help that her friends are laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” she lies. “And here–” She pulls out her lighter and a bubblegum pink colored pencil that’s stained black from repeated burning, and lights the end of the pencil on fire so that it melts a bit. She drips it onto her fingertips, then harshly smudges it onto your lips, biting down on a facetious smile. “Yeah. Joel will love you.” 

She doesn’t let you check your appearance in the mirror before ushering you to the bathing room, her hands on your lower back as she pushes you to the door. She slaps your ass, then heads back to the dressing room with the other girls, barely concealing a giggle in her wake. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, then knock on the door. The man - Joel - opens it for you and guides you inside, then locks the door behind you. Clad in nothing but a towel, he crosses his arms as he looks you up and down with a slow scan of his eyes, which makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. His brow is pinched together, he’s biting his inner cheek. His expression turns from studious to curious. 

The first thing you notice  is how handsome he is, you can’t even help yourself. His crossed arms strain his big, thick biceps. He has a full head of curly, graying hair, and a full set of teeth. Tall. He’s towering over you with a hulking form. His top lip sports a big, thick mustache, and his face is covered in a perfectly patchy beard. Sharp. He’s got a sharp nose, sharp jaw, and a sharp look in his inky dark brown eyes. You don’t know what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t him. 

“Name’s Joel,” he says. “Your turn.” 

You tell him your name, and Joel reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. “S’that your real name?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

Fuck. “N-no,” you lie. 

Joel chuckles. “So you’re the new girl, huh?” 

“Mhm.” 

Joel laughs again. 

You squeeze past him to get to the tub, then twist the knobs of the bathtub, twisting them quicker when the water doesn’t come out. Joel watches you struggle for a minute, then comes up behind you and puts his strong hand on your lower back, fingers pressing against your ass. “Y’got it all wrong. Do it like this,” he instructs quietly, pulling up on the knobs, causing the water to come pouring out of the spout. He twists the handles himself, holding his hand under the running water to test the temperature. “See?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Learn somethin’ new everyday, don’tcha?” 

Joel rounds the tub, then pulls out the tucked in end of the towel on his waist. You quickly turn your head in the opposite direction, garnering another chuckle from him. Every time he laughs at you, you feel worse. “No point in lookin’ away,” he tells you. “You’re gonna see it whether you wanna or not. Jus’ the nature of these things.” 

Joel hands you his towel, then steps into the long tub. From here, you get a good look at his naked form. He’s muscled beneath his softness, no doubt stronger than an ox. He’s broad, with vast shoulders and a relatively slim waist in comparison. His member is substantially sized, even soft, as it is now. His balls are even bigger, heavier. 

The bathwater moves as Joel’s weight sinks in, rocking back and forth in the tub. He sits down and stretches his legs out, the water running over his feet. You keep your distance as you fold Joel’s towel while waiting for the tub to fill the rest of the way, familiarizing yourself with the toiletries nearby. Washrag, shampoo, bar soap, plastic cup, a tub of petroleum jelly, a glass, and a bottle of whiskey. When the tub is filled, you shut off the water. 

Joel pours himself a large bit of the whiskey into the glass, “Quiet one, ain’tcha?” Joel says to you, then downs his drink. He pours another, then sips it. 

You shrug, unsure of how to respond to the man. You’re not really sure if you’re supposed to talk and if so, what you should say. You move to the end of the bathtub where Joel rests his head, then reach for the cup and fill it with Joel’s bathwater, then wet his graying curls. Little ringlets still form around his neck. 

Shampoo comes next, so you take the small bottle from the table. With wet hands you twist the cap, but it doesn’t come off. Joel waits patiently as you dry your hands on your dress and try again. 

“What’s goin’ on back there?” 

“The uh, the shampoo,” you say. “I can’t get the cap off.” 

Joel reaches behind himself, “I’ll give ya a hand,” he says, and you put the bottle into his palm. He unscrews it with ease, then hands it back to you as he tells you that you seem nervous. “Wait a second,” he says, “C’mere,”  and taps the edge of the tub with his right hand. 

“There?”

“Yeah, sit down.” 

Bottle in hand, you sit at the edge of the tub. “Closer.” Joel tugs you by the arm. “Ain’t gonna bite ya.” 

You pour a bit of shampoo into your palm, then Joel takes the bottle and sets it on the little table. You reach forward and scrub the soap into his hair, quickly working it into a lather. Joel watches your face closely, how you avoid looking him in the eye. He dips his hand into his bathwater then reaches for your face, his steaming hand on your jaw as he uses his wet thumb to wipe away the colored pencil that was hastily rubbed on your lips. You’re stunned, and Joel watches you with dark and hungry eyes, a little bloodshot too. “Pretty one, aren’t you? A girl like you shouldn’t be workin’ here.” 

You ignore him and continue washing his hair, tangling your fingers in the sudsy, thick curls. Joel holds your chin tighter and forces you to look him in the eyes. “You’re not givin’ me the silent treatment, honey, s’posed to talk to your clients. Make a man feel human. Answer me.” You’re intimidated immediately. If he is who the girls call nice, then…

“Wasn’t my first choice of a job,” you admit quietly. 

“How’d you end up here?”

“I needed money,” you whisper. “And the other girls said they wanted someone on bath duty. But that I wouldn’t have to-” 

Joel laughs loudly, cutting you off. “Oh, bless your fuckin’ heart. No, you’ll have to put out,” he says. “Job ain’t just washin’ dirty old men, sweetheart, that’s what a nursing home’s for. Those girls were fuckin’ with you. Sorry.” Joel gestures for you to continue. 

Your blood goes cold. You feel sick, even more nervous than before. Looking through the water, you see that Joel’s already hard for you as well.

“Go on. Speak.”

 You swallow thickly. “They also said you’re nice. Gentle.” 

Joel nods, then sips on his drink. “That’s some wishful fuckin’ thinkin’. Not me, darlin’. Think they’re hazin’ you. But-” Joel sets his drink back down, “-I’ll behave myself, be a gentleman for ya. Scout’s honor.” 

He says it so earnestly that you feel inclined to believe him. “You promise?” 

“Cross my heart,” he says. “I’ll break ya in real nice,” he adds under his breath. His little comment - or rather, what feels like a threat, has you flinching. “Relax, relax.” Joel holds his hand to your waist, keeping you close to him. “You’re fine. I treat all my girls nice. I told you I wouldn’t bite. You’re fine,” he repeats. Joel reaches for the plastic cup and fills it with his bathwater, then gives it to you to rinse his hair with. He closes his eyes, groaning softly. You’ll hear those same groans escaping his lips later when he fucks you, eats you alive. 

You admire his profile, that sharp slope of his aquiline nose, pouty lips and dark eyelashes. Water cascades down his thick neck and the broad planes of his freckled chest, landing into the pool of suds. After rinsing his hair, Joel takes the rag and the bar of soap and wets both, then hands them to you. You lather the soap on the rag, then Joel takes the soap back. You scoot closer to him and begin washing his neck and the muscles surrounding, scrubbing the rag into his skin. 

“Feel tense, don’t I?”

You’re not sure how to answer. “I guess, yeah,” you mumble.

“Yeah, you’ll fix that. Get me right.” 

Joel leans forward and tilts his head down, sighing as you scrub his broad shoulders, leaving little tracks of soap suds on his body. “Lil’ harder, sweetheart,” he groans. “Put some muscle into it.” 

You rub harder into his skin with the rag, massaging those tight muscles in his back and shoulders before lifting his heavy bicep to scrub his arm. Joel lifts his free arm and reaches for you, then tugs the front of your dress down, exposing your cleavage. “S’posed to show me a little skin, darlin’,” he murmurs, his hand lingering on your breast as he rubs his thumb left and right over your skin. “Gotta earn them tips somehow, right?” It makes your face heat up and your heart beat harder, faster. His fingers feel like electricity on your skin as he dips his hand lower, catching your nipple with his fingertips. He rubs the bud until it’s pebbled, then twists it between two fingers, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Joel smiles at that. 

Flustered by both his words and his actions, you pull his hand out of your dress, and Joel wears a crooked smirk. He outstretches that arm for you to wash, and you scrub his limb with the rag, speeding through the activity out of uneasiness and nerves. You drop his arms and quickly pat your hands off on your towel, then get up to leave. 

“Nuh-uh.” Joel grabs your arm and pulls you back down so that you’re sitting on the ledge of the bathtub again, the water splashing a bit when you land. “You ain’t finished yet. Legs need washin’, don’t they?”

“Umm…” 

“Think you’re forgettin’ somethin’ important too,” Joel mutters under his breath. He props his leg up next to you, and you can see his heavy balls and his thick cock standing at full mast beneath the water. With the rag, you scrub up to his knee. 

“Higher.” 

About halfway past his knee. 

“I said, higher.”

You scrub his upper thigh beneath the water’s surface now, washing right where his leg meets his hip. Impatient, Joel pulls the rag from your hand and holds your wrist, then guides your hand to that space between his thighs, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. “Right here,” he instructs you. “I’d reckon a man’s member certainly needs washin’ too, don’t it? ‘Less you like it dirty. Some of us do.”

You quickly stroke Joel’s shaft, just a quick slide of your hand up and down. Joel holds your hand under the water, “Keep goin’,” he mutters. You move your hand and down again, though your back aches from the angle and you have a difficult time reaching him. Joel notices your struggle. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I can’t like- you’re too far-”

“Mm. I getcha,” Joel says, nodding in understanding. “Stand up for a minute.”

You stand up off of the ledge of the bathtub and Joel shifts in the tub, the water sloshing with his movements. He puts both of his dripping hands on your waist and then turns you where he wants you, then begins bunching up the fabric of your dress. “You do the rest,” he tells you. You pull the dress off of your body, feeling insecure under Joel’s watchful gaze as you fold the garment. “Panties too.”

You shimmy your panties down your legs and tuck them beneath your folded dress, which amuses Joel. So modest, so bashful. Those qualities of yours won’t last long here in the brothel.

After setting the clothes down near Joel’s belongings, you make your way back to him. He’s holding out his large, masculine hand for you to take. “C’mon in, there’s plenty ‘a room for us both. Watch your step,” he warns, using his strength to guide you into the tub. “Attagirl.”

You lower yourself into the bath, the hot water making your skin tingle. “Yeah, the water feels nice, don’t it?”

“It feels good,” you agree. You’ve always loved a hot bath, a rare luxury in the world you live in. 

“Now, where were we?”

Joel pulls you through the water so that you’re straddling his thick thighs, the head of his cock nudges against your pussy which sends a flutter through your stomach. You wrap one arm around Joel’s shoulders to stabilize yourself, your other hand staying below the water’s surface as you once again find his cock. This isn’t so terrible. 

You pump Joel’s cock, memorizing every vein on his shaft with the palm of your hand. He tilts his head back in pleasure, brows knit together as he sighs deeply. 

“Am I doing okay?”

“Doin’ just fine, hon’,” Joel mumbles. “All the way up, all the way down. Jus’ like that.”

On the next pass, starting from the thick tip of Joel’s dick, you squeeze him on your way down, down, until you reach his balls. You give them the kindest of squeezes, earning a moan from Joel. “S’perfect. Fuckin’ A,” he hisses.

And all the way up again. You increase in speed, though to avoid splashing, you don’t work him too quickly. You can feel him pulsing under your touch, a sensation that has your core throbbing. He’s breathing heavier, surely getting close now. You squeeze him harder and incorporate a twist of your wrist into your movements, coaxing his release along. 

Just as you find your groove, Joel stops you. “Yeah, nice try, kid. I ain’t payin’ for a fuckin’ handjob. Could do that shit myself for free.”

Joel spins you in the direction opposite of himself, then nudges you forward. He puts the items sitting on the wooden end table on the cracked floral tile below, then pushes the table over to your end of the bath, the wood creaking and groaning. 

He lifts you up and leans you over the edge of the bathtub, having you rest on the table, the cool air on your wet skin causing goosebumps to erupt. From here, you can see all the cracks in the wood, the swelling from the water damage. “Spread them legs, sweetheart. Make room.” 

The water splashes behind you as Joel moves into position and you brace yourself for the inevitable pain of Joel’s cock splitting you open. 

Only, it doesn’t come. You feel Joel’s thumb sliding through your folds before he spreads you wide, exposing your asshole and your pussy to himself, a picture perfect view. 

“Such a pretty cunt,” he whispers. “A fuckin’ shame it’ll get ruined.”

Joel presses a kiss to your asshole, then kisses his way down to your warm center, before finally dipping his tongue into your warm entrance. He groans at your taste, how sweet on his tongue you are with his face between your cheeks. He kisses his way up, up again, then spits on your tight hole. He circles the muscle with his tongue, tracing round and round before forcing his tongue inside. It’s fucking filthy, what he’s doing to you. All salacious and obscene. But you love it, god do you fucking love it.

“Yeah, old Joel ain’t so bad, is he?” Joel murmurs tauntingly into your flesh. He kisses his way down again, all sloppy and messy. He loves the sweet little sigh of relief you breathe out when he reaches your clit, the area you need him most. He moves his lips slowly against you, loving how you grow slicker and slicker. How your soft cunt feels against his face. Joel breathes you in deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. No chance in hell he’s washing his face after this. Your musk will live in his facial hair for days, acting as somewhat of a comfort to him. Or perhaps a trophy. 

With his tongue pointed, Joel traces along your folds before plunging into your slick hole once more. He could spend forever between your thighs, that soft, sweet, most private of places. The momentary reprieve could last eternally, if he were so lucky. 

Joel savors all of you. Your hot, wet cunt, how your hips twist and turn as you chase your own pleasure. When he sucks your clit, he can feel your thighs twitch around his skull. Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. He has half a mind to take you back to his apartment when he’s done with you, keep you all to himself. Leave you lying naked in his bed, be his little slice of heaven in such a cruel, fucked up world. 

Joel circles your clit with his tongue, finding that perfect pleasure that has you moaning his name. Steadily, steadily, he keeps you like this until you’re coming for him, gushing all over his face as he fucks you through your release with his tongue. 

You’re left breathing heavily on the table, trying to collect yourself. Joel leans over you and wears a cocky grin. “What’d I tell you, huh?” he asks. “Told you I take good care of pussy. Shoot, look at ya, all fucked out.”

You can’t help but smile at him. Joel moves behind you once more, spreading your legs wide and slotting himself between them. 

“But,” he says, “Fair’s fair. My turn now, sweet girl.”

Joel tugs on his cock, as it’s softened a bit without any stimulation. God, he’s getting old. Once at full mast again, Joel drags the blunt head of his cock through your folds, all slick and slippery with your wetness. “Ready?” he says, notching himself inside you. It’s already a painful stretch. 

“Mhm,” you hum, uncertainty lacing your tone. 

With one hand guiding his cock inside, Joel has the other on your hip. He squeezes you comfortingly as he inches his way inside. He can see that you’re squeezing your eyes shut, wincing in pain. “Oh, I know, I know, I know,” he coos. “S’a tight fit, I know. Take a deep breath, breathe through it. You got it,” he says. “You are a professional after all, hm?” Joel teases. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, your walls stretching and aching as Joel’s thick cock pushes deeper and deeper inside you. 

“Halfway there,” he tells you. “S’easier f’ya let me rip the bandaid off.” He’s not asking your opinion, it’s a warning of what’s to come. A courtesy, perhaps. 

Joel pushes inside you all the way, the slide inside your body has him groaning and throwing his head back. The intrusion of his cock is so sharp it shatters you and scrambles every thought inside your head and you feel impossibly full, every other sensation disappearing as your mind focuses only on what you feel between your legs. 

Joel pulls out of you slowly, then pushes back in. He repeats the motion until your expression has softened, until you’re not biting your lips and your brows relax into a natural position. “There she is,” Joel praises you. “What a good girl. Knew you had it in ya. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He builds a steady pace, quickening it to his liking in time. His thrusts are fluid, deep, and intentional; he fucks you perfectly, with consideration for both you and himself. This, this was not what you were expecting. You feel both of his strong hands squeezing your middle, and Joel watches how your flesh bulges between his fingers. 

“Joel,” you whimper. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, feels good. Goddamn, you feel good.”

The water sloshes as Joel slams his hips into yours, not that he gives a shit. He fucks you harder, faster, building that pleasure deep in his gut. Joel leans over you and finds your clit with his hand, pulling back the hood before rubbing tight little circles into the sensitive part. “Gimme another,” he breathes. “One for the road. M’gonna miss this pussy.”

Joel pounds into you, the tip of his cock hitting that special place inside you that feels so good, a primal sort of pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it, let him guide your orgasm along with his measured thrusts and skilled fingers. It’s only a little longer of him drawing in and out of you, and then you’re coming all over again. It’s a hot and intense, all-consuming sort of pleasure. A sensation you’ve never known before now, before Joel. Fucking nothing compares. 

“Oh, fuck. Christ almighty,” Joel groans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his shaft in non-rhythm. He looks down at where his body meets yours, the creamy rings of arousal you’ve painted onto his cock. Joel quickens his pace even further, hips stuttering as he frenetically pounds into you. You groan at the loss of him pulling out of you, but your displeasure is swiftly soothed by the feeling of his hot spend painting your backside. Rope after rope of his come, all warm and sticky. 

It’s quiet, save for the splashing of water. Joel searches for the rag and the soap from before and lathers both, then scrubs his come off of your skin, which tickles you. “See?” he says. “What’d I tell ya. M’a gentleman. Somethin’ like it, at least.”

Joel steps out of the tub and dries his hair, turning it into a fluffy mess. He pats his body down next, and in your blissful, fucked-out state, you get a perfect view of his plump ass before he dresses himself. He combs his hair back with his fingers, then reaches into his pocket for some ration cards. 

“Let’s see here,” he murmurs, licking his thumb before flicking through the notes. He pulls out a generous amount, then slaps the cards down on the end table where you rest your head. “Think we’re square. You come and find me if I’m short, though, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper, barely lucid. 

Joel pushes some hair out of your face and bends down to kiss your cheek. “Until next time,” he says. “Keep outta trouble.”

-

IF YOU ENJOYED PLEAE TELL ME SO! I love talking to you guys, and I love how you make this blog feel like a community. Reblogs, comments, ASKS!!! Are all so appreciated. Mwah. Have a safe week, everyone 🩷

Extra kitty pics cuz I love ya.

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.

Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.

Part 2 Here!!

Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions

Word Count: 640 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.

After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.

"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.

"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.

That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.

"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.

"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??

[avocad1s]

The Gnosis Can Wait

Requested By: No one. Original work.

CW: 5.0 spoilers below this line!!! 5.0 spoilers below this line! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Summary: After his battle with Mavuika, Capitano was left injured. He retreats wanting to replan his strategy when he runs into you, the Creator, who had just descended to Teyvat.

Note: So how are you all liking Natlan? As of right now I think it’s okay only because I want to return to Fontaine 😞

Capitano wasn’t used to the taste of defeat.

As number one in the Fatui harbingers and the strongest amongst them no doubt, he is used to winning every match he partakes in. Or for his opponents to concede before the battle even begins.

Yet he doesn’t take it to heart, he knows the outcomes of every battle can differ in many different ways and he isn’t arrogant about his strength.

Mavuika was a God after all. Even though his power rivals hers, he knew he would have to best her with a foolproof strategy and it seemed barging in wasn’t the right one. She was a worthy opponent.

Capitano returns to his camp, the pain in his chest still burning from the small wound Mavuika left on him. He can wait, once his wound heals then he will strike her again, only this time he won’t miss. At least he has an ally in his pocket keeping him up to date on all the politics within Natlan.

“My lord,” Capitano’s right hand, Rezanov begins while bowing. “We found footprints nearby. We believe someone might stumble into camp soon…”

Capitano lets out a sigh underneath his mask, “how many people?”

“We believe only one, there’s only one track of footprints.”

Only one person? Nothing really to worry about. Unless this person is returning to tell the Archon his location.

“Find them and bring them here.” He orders and Rezanov nods and quickly takes off.

———

Okay… don’t freak out. Don’t freak out…

You just woke up in Genshin Impact.

You remember waiting impatiently by your PC for the newest update to the game, but you must’ve fallen asleep while waiting. Now you were dreaming about the it? Jeez, even in your own dreams you thought about the game. You really needed to touch grass. (lol jk jk luv you all)

You were dreaming about Natlan… a nation that you haven’t even played yet. You couldn’t have had a dream about your favorite nation? Or meeting all your favorite characters?

But everything felt so real. Even after watching the trailer and the leaks you’ve seen online, there’s no way you could know such detail about the nation. Maybe it was just your mind filling in the gaps…

“Stop right there!”

You turn around and your blood runs immediately cold. It was two fatui skirmishers and one fatui agent. You don’t even know the amount of times you’ve killed these enemies for their drops or just for the fun of it.

So this is how you die… at least this is better than falling into the claws of Childe, who you’d beat up anytime you built a new character.

“Our lord the Captain will deal with you, come with us with no fight.”

Scratch that. This was much, much worse…

“Wait… isn’t that…?” One of them whispered.

They put down their weapons, looks of remorse on their faces.

“Your Grace… please for give our imprudence we had no idea it was you…” Rezanov. “Please come with us, the Captain would be delighted to see you.”

Right… you’ve read fanfics like this before. Believing you’re their Creator… you wonder if your blood was gold. Perhaps you could check later. For now, you were going to follow them, it’s not like Capitano has appeared in the game you can get a first time look at him.

You follow the trio deeper into the forest, a small fireplace in the distance, you could only assume the Captain would be there.

“My lord, we found who was trailing around camp. Their Grace has decided to bless us with their presence on Teyvat once more.”

Capitano turns around and say nothing for what felt like forever. Even with the helmet, you knew he was staring intently at you.

“Your Grace.” He finally says, his voice much softer than you ever expected. “I am honored to be in your presence.”

He approached, towering over you.

“You three. Fetch Their Grace some food—“ he looks down at you once more. “And a change of clothes.”

You feel embarrassment creep up your neck. What’s wrong with your pajamas? Could he tell they weren’t from this word?

He holds out his hand, and you take it being able to feel the warmth underneath the glove. This dream was much realer than you thought…

Capitano leads you to his large tent holding the flaps open so you could enter. “We weren’t expecting your arrival so I apologize for the lack of preparations…”

You shake your head, “everything is fine.” Not like you’d be here forever…

“You can have my tent You Grace, I will camp outside.” He adds.

You furrow your eyebrows, “this tent is big enough for two people, can’t we just share it?”

Capitano doesn’t say nothing for a moment, you fear you’ve might’ve offended him with your offer but it was the complete opposite. Capitano felt as if he was on top of the world, to share a camp with the Creator? To be able to protect you? To see your sleeping face…

He feels his cheeks grow crimson and he is eternally grateful for his helmet. “Of course, if that’s what you wish Your Grace…”

The flaps to the tent open and Rezanov enters the tent. “My lord, we've received word that the Pyro Archon has lost much of her power.”

“Although your injury complicates things, this is most certainly the opportune time to seize the Gnosis...”

Capitano was slightly irritated with his subordinate’s unwarranted entry but he wouldn’t do anything yet, not while you were right in front of him.

“The Gnosis can wait, we have more important matters…” he replies, his focus never leaving you.

© avocad1s 2024

Note: Capitano was the highlight of Natlan for me. Sorry but i’m a Fatui Harbinger glazer 😞 why’d they make them so fine? It’s not fair… Now here’s to hoping my man is playable, saving all my primos for him so he better not disappoint.

Edit: I know Mavuika isn’t a God but I’m thinking Capitano wouldn’t know that since she’s the only one of the Seven that isn’t a one which is where I went with this fic

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Surprise Visitor

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After two years of watching from afar, Y/n surprises her boyfriend, Lando Norris, at the Monza Grand Prix, creating a buzz in the paddock and revealing their private relationship.

Requests are open

______________________________________________________________

The hum of the jet engines thrummed through the cabin, but I was too excited to care. This was finally happening. After two years of watching Lando's races from my cramped little apartment, I was on my way to my first Grand Prix. It had taken a miracle—or more precisely, a break in my grueling medical school schedule—to make it happen, and now I was on a plane bound for Monza. Lando had no idea I was coming.

For two years, we had been each other's biggest supporters, but always from afar. With my studies and his relentless racing schedule, we made it work through late-night FaceTime calls, stolen weekends, and text messages sent across different time zones. Lando understood how much becoming a doctor meant to me, and I understood how much racing meant to him. It wasn't always easy, but it was worth it. And now, finally, I was going to surprise him at one of the biggest races of the season.

The plan was simple: get to Monza, navigate through the labyrinth of the paddock area, and find Lando. But of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. After all, Lando had kept our relationship very private—mostly because of my request. I had wanted to avoid any extra scrutiny or attention that could interfere with my studies. So, not many people knew who I was. That anonymity had always been a blessing, but today, it might turn into a curse.

As I approached the entrance to the paddock, the reality of the situation hit me. The security was tight, and without a pass, there was no easy way in. I tried to remain calm and confident as I approached the guard at the gate, a stern-looking man. I put on my most winning smile.

"Hi, I’m here for Lando Norris. I'm his girlfriend," I said, hoping my nerves didn’t show in my voice.

The guard didn’t even flinch. He glanced at me. “Do you have a pass, ma’am?”

“Uh, no, I don’t. I’m surprising him. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t have a pass, I can’t let you in. Anyone could say they're someone’s girlfriend.”

I felt my face flush. Of course, he was right. I had counted on my story being enough, but without any proof, I was just another face in the crowd. My mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that would convince him. I pulled out my phone, scrolling frantically through my photos to find one of Lando and me that wasn’t overly intimate but still proved I knew him. Finally, I found one from his last birthday—a picture of us at a quiet dinner, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, both of us smiling like idiots.

“Look, this is us,” I said, holding the phone up to the guard.

He squinted at it, but it still didn’t seem to sway him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but without clearance, I can’t let you in.”

I bit my lip, starting to panic. Would I really come all this way just to be turned away at the gate? Just then, I heard a familiar voice from behind the guard.

“Hey, is there a problem here?”

It was Charlotte, one of Lando’s closest friends who often accompanied him to races. Relief washed over me. She knew who I was, thank goodness. The guard turned to her, explaining the situation, and Charlotte’s eyes lit up when she saw me.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a quick hug. “She’s with Lando. She’s legit,” she assured the guard, who seemed to visibly relax.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” he said, opening the gate for me. I breathed out a sigh of relief, thanking Charlotte profusely.

“Lando’s going to flip when he sees you,”

Charlotte led me through the bustling paddock, weaving between crew members, engineers, and the odd driver. My heart pounded with every step. I couldn’t believe I was finally here, in the thick of it, about to see Lando. I’d spent so many weekends watching him on TV, wishing I could be there to support him in person. Now, I was just moments away from making that a reality.

As we rounded a corner, I saw the familiar McLaren colors and a group of people crowded around, busy with last-minute preparations. And there he was, standing near his car, deep in conversation with his race engineer. I paused, taking him in. Lando looked focused, his brow furrowed as he listened intently. He was in his element, and seeing him like this—so determined, so alive—made my heart swell with pride.

Charlotte gave me a nudge and a wink. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked toward him, trying to keep my emotions in check. With each step, my excitement grew, and I couldn't help but smile. When I was just a few feet away, Lando turned around, still half-listening to his engineer. His eyes skimmed over me at first, not really registering who I was, but then they widened. His mouth fell open in shock.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “What… what are you doing here?”

The smile on my face grew wider. “Surprise!”

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then, in a heartbeat, his face broke into the biggest grin I’d ever seen. He closed the distance between us in two strides, wrapping me in a tight hug and lifting me off the ground. I laughed, burying my face in his shoulder, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice muffled against my hair. He set me down gently but kept his arms around me as if afraid I might disappear if he let go. “You’re really here?”

“Yeah, I am,” I said, my own eyes brimming with happy tears. “I finally managed to get a break from school. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did more than surprise me,” he said, pulling back to look at me. His eyes were bright with joy, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, seeing just how much my presence meant to him. “I’m so proud of you, Lando. I’ve been watching every race from my apartment, but I’m finally here to cheer you on in person.”

His face softened, and for a moment, it was just the two of us, standing in the middle of the chaotic paddock, wrapped up in our little world. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I wish you could be here all the time.”

“I wish I could too,” I replied. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I have to admit, this is the best surprise ever. But how did you even get in? Did anyone recognize you?”

“Not exactly,” I laughed. “It was a bit of a challenge. Charlotte saved the day.”

He glanced over my shoulder and waved a grateful hand at Charlotte, who gave him a thumbs-up and a knowing smile. “Remind me to thank her later,” he said with a grin before turning his attention back to me. “But seriously, Y/N, you being here… it just makes everything better.”

I felt my heart flutter at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make your day a little brighter. Now, you better go out there and win, okay? I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he nodded with determination. “With you here, I feel like I can do anything.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and I felt a rush of warmth spread from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “Stay close, alright? After the race, we’re celebrating. Just you and me.”

“Deal,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Now go be amazing.”

Lando jogged back to his team, but not before throwing a final, beaming smile my way. My heart swelled seeing how happy he was. I lingered by the McLaren garage, watching him fall back into his pre-race routine. As I waited, Charlotte stayed with me, giving me a quick rundown of the paddock scene. The energy was buzzing, filled with engineers shouting, journalists hunting for stories, and drivers moving from garage to garage.

As Lando chatted with his team, I noticed a few heads turning in my direction, whispers circulating among the crew. It wasn’t long before Daniel Ricciardo, Lando’s former teammate, appeared with his trademark grin, clearly having caught wind of the new face in the paddock.

“Oi, Norris!” Daniel called out, his voice cutting through the noise. “You’ve been holding out on us, mate! Who’s this lovely lady?”

Lando looked up, a sheepish yet proud grin spreading across his face. He glanced at me, then back at Daniel. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. She’s finally here to see me race.”

I felt my cheeks flush as all eyes turned toward me. Daniel's grin widened, his playful nature kicking in immediately. “Girlfriend, huh? And you kept her hidden all this time? Smart move, mate.”

He walked over, extending a hand to me. “Daniel, nice to meet you. I’ve gotta say, we all wondered if Lando had someone special cheering him on from the shadows. Now I see why he’s been driving so fast. Gotta impress the missus, eh?”

I laughed, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Daniel. And yeah, I’ve been watching all the races from home. I’m finally getting a front-row seat.”

Before I knew it, more drivers began to gather around, curious to meet Lando’s mystery girl. George Russell approached with a friendly smile. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Norris in line? Good job,” he said, giving Lando a teasing nudge. “Didn’t know you had it in you, mate.”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Oh, shut up. Just because you guys didn’t know doesn’t mean I was keeping secrets.”

Charles Leclerc joined the group, his charming smile lighting up his face. “Y/N, right? I’m Charles. It’s nice to meet you. I have to say, Lando’s been very quiet about you, but now I see why. He was trying to keep you away from us.”

“Not a bad idea,” Lando chimed in, trying to sound casual, but I could sense a slight edge to his tone. “You lot can be a bit much sometimes.”

Charles chuckled, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease Lando. “Come on, we’re not that bad! Besides, now that she’s here, we can all get to know her better.”

As the group chatted, I could feel Lando's arm subtly wrap around my waist, a gentle but possessive gesture. I couldn’t help but smile to myself; he was clearly proud to show me off but also keen to make sure everyone knew I was his.

Max Verstappen wandered over next, always one to enjoy a bit of friendly banter. “Lando, man, you’ve been hiding her from us because you knew we’d try to steal her away, huh?” he said with a playful smirk.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Lando shot back, his tone light but his grip on my waist tightening ever so slightly.

As we continued to chat, I noticed Carlos Sainz giving me a slightly lingering look. He flashed me a charming smile. “You know, if you ever get tired of this guy, you could always come cheer for Ferrari,” he joked, winking.

I laughed, enjoying the light-hearted teasing, but I felt Lando tense beside me. He tried to play it off with a chuckle, but I could tell the idea of me getting attention from his friends—even if it was in jest—was stirring a little jealousy.

“Alright, alright,” Lando cut in, his voice a mix of amusement and a hint of possessiveness. “I see what you’re all trying to do, and it’s not going to work. Y/N is here with me, and that’s how it’s staying.”

Daniel, always quick to pick up on vibes, grinned broadly. “Look at him getting all protective! I think we’ve found Lando’s kryptonite, boys.”

Lando rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. At least I have someone to protect,” he shot back, which earned a chorus of “ooohs” from the group.

I squeezed his hand reassuringly, leaning in close to whisper, “You know they’re just messing with you, right?”

He nodded, his expression softening as he looked at me. “Yeah, I know. But I still don’t like the idea of anyone hitting on you—even as a joke.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his protectiveness. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[bunny-jpeg]

can I pretty please get nanaimo bars,english muffin with the side of milkshake, frozen latte with Charles Leclerc 🥹🫶

bakery menu

the bakery is open and accepting orders! we're cooking up smiles every day! submit your own order! reblogs & comments are appreciated! thank you lovely anon for submitting this, it was something very different to write that i loved. size kink with charles is super interesting given how many people see him. but sometimes i forget he is close to six feet tall and built like someone who does f1. he may look sweet as honey, but there's probably something more sinister (sexually) going on in that brain of his, haha.

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + english muffins ("aw, is someone crying?") + milkshake (size kink) + frozen latte (dumbification) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dumbification, teasing/dirty talk, crying kink, cry baby!reader, oral sex (charles receives), deepthroating, facials & cock slapping, safe words/signals, hair pulling

"mon cœur"

"la douleur dans ma poitrine."

"mon amor..."

"ma salope."

charles liked to make you cry. he loved when his mean words would curl up into your brain and make that waterworks come out. he was the prince of ferrari and of his home country. it's pride and joy. he was seen as effortlessly cool and could entice anyone. that smile, those green eyes. but even with all he had been afforded, nothing turned him on more than seeing his precious girlfriend's bottom lip wobble her eyes grow cloudy with tears.

he was running on high after monza, it was like everything was barking in the back of his head. even out of his driving suit and away from the track for the night, he could still feel the adrenaline. and while many would go for a run or spend the night with a drink in hand. he yearned for something different.

and when he saw you in his lavish hotel room, in one of his shirts and what appeared nothing else underneath. he knew that he was in for a treat tonight. with his bag down and his shoes off, he entered further into the room. he ended up by you on the couch and took you by the chin.

he smiled, "most take off the make up before they get comfortable." his thumb trailed under your left eye.

you replied, "i took everything off earlier and put on the mascara that runs easily." it was from a cheap brand at the pharmacy. perfect for what charles liked.

he chuckled, "you are just full of surprises, my love. you're going to be good for me tonight, right?" it was moments like these that you realized just how much bigger charles was. most painted him as short and frail.

he was just under six foot but built in a way to withstand the strain of racing. with large hands and thighs that could kill. his hand could easily fit around your neck as easily as his cock did to the back of your throat. there was a flicker in the greens of his eyes, the noble prince had stripped away into a hungry animal that yearned for you.

you swallowed, "i always am. always for you."

he tapped your cheek six times and you tapped his wrist once in response. even if these sick games where you cried and grew stupid on his cock, there were limits everyone had. charles didn't want to break your little world apart because he took it too far. he got on the couch next to you and undid his belt. your delicate hands helped him and dropped the leather to the floor.

charles held you face to look at him. he remarked, "you really are pathetic, so eager. i'm surprised you didn't stalk the halls looking for something to fuck your throat while i was out."

you frowned a little bit, "i'd never, honey."

he pinched your cheek a little harder than normal and leaned in, "right, right. because you're a good girl, my pretty girl. who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." his words were enticing and it made your stomach flip.

"i am."

"you are pretty, my love." he said, "god blessed you with good looks because he knew you'd be stupid. add a dash of being a cock hungry whore and sometimes i get worried. i've never wanted to kill a man, but if another sank his teeth into you." his words were low and they made you curl in your gut.

if you wanted out, as a last resort. tap once then six times in rapid succession. charles liked to make your bottom lip wobble, but he wasn't a monster. he pulled you in for another searing kiss, his hand in between your legs. he felt panties as he rubbed his hand up.

he knew it was going to be a long night tonight. but first, he had his eyes on your pretty throat. after all his marks had faded over the week. while there would be press photos soon, they didn't mean he couldn't mess up the inside of your throat. even if you couldn't talk for the week, he was more than happy to do all the talking for both of you.

"stupid thing." he said, "you know that? i feel sorry for whatever school gave you your diploma." he acted like he wasn't at your graduation, "i bet you paid them off. or worse, sucked them off. little whore on campus, too stupid to actually learn anything except be on her knees and breath through her nose." he made a small noise of disappointment.

and charles got excited at the sight of you. that bottom lip was going, he could see the shudder in your shoulders. that struck a nerve, post-secondary was hard for you. you felt like people called you dumb without actually saying it. and charles' toxic words only added the fuel to the fire of doubt.

"aw, is someone crying? don't cry." he said, faking sympathy, "if you start crying then you won't suck my cock properly." he rubbed the back of your head as he watched the tears come down your cheek. he sighed once more, "silly thing."

soon your head was between his legs. he could feel your hot tears against the base of his cock as they streamed down your face. they weren't a rush of tears, but a slow trickle as charles' words clouded your head.

you started to work his cock and he felt the excitement in his body. it took a good while but eventually you learned how to deep throat him. he hissed and held onto the back of your head. you were both still clothed (or at least partially for you).

charles had a habit of running his mouth when your mouth was on him. and he rocked the blunt end of his cock up against the back of your throat, occasionally making you choke, he started talking. "i should throw you to the rest of ferrari. let them ruin you. then maybe you'll stop being so greedy for cock when you've had enough for a lifetime. i see how they look at you, my logo across your pretty breasts as you look so cute down at the paddock. if i waved my hand and told them to have their way with you, you wouldn't be getting far." he tugged on your hair a little and forced you up and down his cock faster.

you choked a little bit and sputtered, trying to catch your breath through your nose. it all was a deep throb in your head as you tried to cram as much of his cock into your throat.

"i'd say they'd make your ass ferrari red. but i think it would be closer to mercedes black. you wouldn't be able to sit right for months. maybe i'd be generous and let the other drivers have a chance too. crying on their cocks."

you sniffled, tears welled up in your eyes some more. while most despised having 'raccoon eyes', charles found it endearing. the poor little thing can't help but cry because she knows that he's right. you knew in your gut that you were at least a little cock hungry at all times. he watched you squirm in your seat at times while you let your imagination run wild.

he continued to use you to his liking. you were perfect. trained you from the ground up to be perfect on his cock. he caught glimpses of your face and your red eyes. poor thing, crying to much making a big mess.

so dumb, so small, so stupid.

he took his cock out of your mouth and rubbed it up against your cheek roughly. spit and pre-cum caught across your right eyelashes. his cock pushed your top lip up and he groaned at the sight. your tongue licked a bit of pre-cum that was dangerously close to your face.

"so small, i'm surprised you could take all this. i remember when i couldn't put it in without prepping you. then you spent all season training your cunt for when i got home. now you take me in every way perfectly." he licked his lips, "you know where you belong."

his words excited you as you put your mouth back on his cock. you whimpered as you felt it hit the back of your throat once more. he was big in a way that it made you squirm.

you continued up and down his cock, putting all your brain power (what little you had left) into taking him well. you coughed and panted, air felt in short supply as you got him to the base. your nose in his groomed pubic hair.

a picture perfect beauty, all for charles to devour.

he knew he was close. he could feel it in his bones and in the tension of his muscles. he then tensed up further with his hand in your hair and pulled your mouth off his cock (as much as it pained him to do that). with his other hand he stroked himself off quickly to the sight of your quivering, overheated body. you panted heavily and he finished all over your face. he streaked your skin white with cum up to your forehead. it dripped down your face as you coughed a little.

the debauched sight made him get a few more ropes up cum on your face before he settled down. he pulled your head back to look at you, you could barely have your eyes open. he wished he could take a picture. the white of cum and the mascara mixed tears created a sight that made charles run hot.

"now you look like a slut." he said as he got his jeans off. he rubbed his cock up against your soft lips before he slapped his still hard cock against your face, only making the mess on your cheeks more intense.

"charles." your throat felt raw from it. you looked at him and panted heavily, your tongue stuck out a little bit. and charles knew the night was far over. he fucked you stupid without stimulating your poor pussy. he wanted to see how stupid he could make you.

"we're not done yet." he said.

you tilted your head to the side, almost innocently as if your face wasn't a mess. you asked, "what?" your brain not capturing all the words properly.

he held onto you for a moment and said, "ten seconds to clean up your face. then i want you naked on the bed, or i'll fuck you on the bathroom floor." then let go of you and watched you scramble to clean yourself up. those words stuck in your blissed out brain even though you almost tripped over yourself.

charles chuckled and leaned further back onto the couch, his cock at full attention. even though the mascara was going to be gone, it was okay. you still looked just as pretty with just those tears streaming down your face. <3

[starcurtain]

Female Guidance in Aventurine's Life

One thing I haven't seen discussed in much depth yet, but which I think is especially interesting, is the consistency of female guidance in Aventurine's life: Every single person who we have seen on screen offering Aventurine assistance or making a positive difference in his life is female (with one exception, yes, I'll get there).

Under the read more cause it's longggg:

Before even diving into his family, let's just get the obvious out of the way: Aventurine is, at least supposedly, blessed by a goddess. The very origin of his good fortune--be it actual blessing or curse--comes from the literal "mother goddess" who watches over him. This is one of the only instances in Star Rail where a god character is specifically given a gender, and Gaiathra is not ever ambiguous. She is the classic female fertility goddess with all the trappings of other famous triple goddess figures of the real world. Aventurine's personal belief in the goddess may be shaky, but he nevertheless continues to treasure his people's faith. Thus, at the core, we can say Aventurine is a character who is guarded by the most quintessential mother figure possible.

Now, with the most obvious out of the way:

We know that Aventurine's father died before Aventurine was even born, and therefore he would not have any memories of his father, leaving him to be raised by his mother and sister.

Both women clearly made an enormous and lasting impression on Aventurine; they haunt every single one of his memories of Sigonia and are the key elements of the family Aventurine longs to return to. While he flirts with the concept of death as a way to see his family members again, it was also his mother and sister who instilled in him any sense of self-worth and meaning to his existence, the only things keeping him from giving up on living. His mother believed him to be blessed; his sister insisted to his face that not even the only remaining remnant of their mother had any value in comparison to his life.

It is for his sister that Aventurine first begins expressing a self-sacrificial nature, and from his sister that this self-sacrifice is reinforced when she uses herself as a shield to help him escape massacre at the hands of the Katicans.

It is also from his sister that Aventurine learns many of the deeply meaningful actions he holds onto to the present day, despite having been so far removed from his own culture.

Conversely, every one of Aventurine's early negative experiences on screen appear to have been driven (at least primarily) by men.

Although the Katican tribe of course would have both men and women, the tribal societies on Sigonia appear to be on the fairly traditional side, with Aventurine's mother staying at the camp with her child while his father was the one to go out and hunt for offerings for Gaiathra. This is also supported by Aventurine asking Jade to take him to her "chief" later on. Therefore, it is likely (although of course not guaranteed) that a majority of the Katicans' army was male, and that Aventurine's early experiences with outsiders consisted almost entirely of indiscriminate pillaging and massacre at the hands of what the Avgin viewed as savage, invading warriors. In separate instances, Aventurine was traumatized by these warrior figures three times--first with the loss of his father, then his mother, and then finally his sister.

And even their hope, supposed to come in the form of the "men in black" from the IPC, completely abandoned them, leaving Aventurine once again betrayed by masculine figures that were supposed to be there to protect him. Led by Oswaldo Schneider, another cruel male authority figure, the Marketing Department of the IPC permitted the wholesale slaughter of Aventurine's people--something which we know Aventurine is now aware of.

Then, of course, the next piece of Aventurine's backstory we're given is his male slave master. I don't really need to say anything about this, do I? This man violated Aventurine's human dignity and bodily autonomy, and forced Aventurine's hand in a life or death battle for which Aventurine still punishes himself mentally, even years in the future.

In part to escape the difficulty of his situation and rise to a position where he would have enough resources to--he thought--help his people, Aventurine joins up with the IPC. But when he attempts to make contact with a powerful man in the organization, Diamond, he is instead met by a woman, Jade, who against Aventurine's own expectations determines that she will raise Aventurine up (or use him as a tool, depending on how you currently choose to interpret Jade's motivations), granting him wealth and status beyond his imagination.

(And this line in particular is interesting, because you can take it one of two ways: 1) Aventurine comes from a patriarchal planet that traditionally put men into positions of power [thereby making his own slavery an emasculating act, aligning him further with disenfranchised women]; thus, he is making the assumption that to get anywhere in this organization, he will need to work with a man; or 2) He actually was counting on Jade taking his bet and helping him right from the beginning, because Aventurine perceives women as inherently more likely to protect and aid him than men would be.)

In the end, Jade does exactly as she claims she will, launching Aventurine into a position of power while also closing golden handcuffs around his wrists. She positions herself not only as his supervisor, but as his advocate and ally. She entrusts him with her Cornerstone, a sign of significant faith in his abilities. She even seems to be keenly aware of his bias towards the mother figure, referring to him as "child" in their conversations.

Whether this is genuine or a manipulation tactic can certainly be debated (and I'm not inclined to think at this point that Jade is a genuinely good role model or selflessly supportive person in Aventurine's life), but whatever the case, women are the only people Aventurine even remotely considers to be "in his corner."

We see this even earlier, in Aventurine's call to Topaz. Like with the example of his mother and sister, Aventurine trusts in Topaz's ability implicitly, and considers her above anyone else when it comes to completing the mission in Penacony.

Although of course we don't know if Aventurine has any other friends or allies among the Strategic Investment Department, it seems very likely that Topaz, yet another woman, is the one he is closest with. At the very least, she is the only IPC character (so far) that Aventurine has a complimentary voice line for, one that shows his respect for her talent:

Over and over again, the story aligns Aventurine with female figures in positions of authority, and demonstrates that he is comfortable (although maybe not too comfortable, in the case of Jade) with relying on them and trusting their judgment, just as he did with his mother and sister.

And this pretty much goes off the charts in Penacony, where Aventurine has more involvement with the female cast than virtually any other non-female character (even the Trailblazer!). We set the pattern off right away, with Aventurine immediately being placed into a negotiation situation with Himeko, respecting her role as the Express's leader and working to get himself aligned with the Express by acquiescing to her request for support.

Then there's the fact that Aventurine is the one who finds Robin's body, an event which, although he didn't let it show too much, was almost certainly traumatic for him, given the violent death of his own sister.

Next, twice in Penacony's story, we see Aventurine seek out Sparkle for information. He may not personally like her and her comments may be both racist and dehumanizing, but Aventurine does rely on her--being the only character explicitly seeking her aid, which no one else in Penacony seems to want.

In 2.0...

And in 2.1.

Now, say it with me, guys: Aventurine built an entire portion of his grand plan around the idea that if he looked pathetic enough, a female character would absolutely come and help him. And sure enough, the women come through for him, always! Sparkle gives him the exact last clue he needs to confirm his belief that he could use "Death" to reach the true Penacony, sealing the deal for the rest of his plan.

His plan which also hinged significantly on Black Swan's involvement too, another woman that he views as, if not trustworthy, then at least intelligent and hyper-competent.

Contrast all this, of course, with the treatment Aventurine receives at the hands of Sunday, the lone opposing male character he faces in Penacony.

Sparkle implies that Sunday would humiliate Aventurine in an unmistakably sexual and degrading way, and Sunday himself professes this same desire to see Aventurine humiliated.

Then we're "treated" to the moment in which Sunday uses the Harmony's (or perhaps actually the Order's?) power against Aventurine, in a scene which is supposed to reflect an interrogation but is also, very clearly, another nonconsensual violation of Aventurine's bodily autonomy and dignity by a man. While ostensibly seeking confirmation of the Cornerstone ruse, Sunday instead subjects Aventurine to unnecessary questions about his past on Sigonia, which recall and force Aventurine to re-endure memories of his trauma.

Even if this is what Aventurine prepared himself for and planned to have happen, the pain he experiences is very real, and he suffers both the physical and emotional consequences of Sunday's assault all the way up to his "Death" and possibly even beyond.

(Also, Sunday fans please don't get too up in arms with me for this; I also like Sunday! It's okay for characters to be morally grey!)

I think there's one other interesting example I would bring up here too, and that's Aventurine's conscious decision to weaponize his own masculinity against the Trailblazer. Through the 2.0 and 2.1 Trailblaze missions, Aventurine deliberately acts in an off-putting manner to the Astral Express crew, particularly the Trailblazer, in order to build up to the 2.1 climax where the Trailblazer is supposed to view him as an unrepentant villain and attack him without hesitation.

In order to achieve this uncomfortable, villainous effect, what does Aventurine do? Exactly what other men have done to him.

This is especially apparent if you're playing Stelle because of the ingrained societal taboo of a man entering a woman's personal space without consent, but even as Caelus, it is very clear that Aventurine is leveraging behaviors typically used to show dominance: In a complete 180 to all Aventurine's other body language in the game (normally quite withdrawn, frequently in defensive postures with his arms crossed or hand behind his back, almost always standing several feet away from other people), Aventurine violates the Trailblazer's personal bubble, looming over them (Caelus was sitting in this cutscene, lol), forcing eye contact, and commanding the space while informing them that they will have no choice.

For someone who was hunted, enslaved, had his movements restricted with chains, and due to his own slight stature has very likely been towered over by others who were intentionally asserting their power over him all his life, it is clear that Aventurine associates dominant, typically more masculine-coded physically-imposing behaviors with discomfort and even villainy.

Any girl who has ever had a man loom over her like this will realize very quickly: Aventurine wanted to make himself scary so he made himself act more like a bad man.

(Yes of course I know "not all men." I'm not saying every man behaves in this domineering way or that women cannot be domineering too, obviously, just that Aventurine had a very specific image in mind when constructing a "villainous persona," and the physically controlling tactics most typically used by aggressive men toward women was his immediate go-to.)

But where does that leave Dr. Ratio, the one male character actually on Aventurine's side?

Frankly, I don't want to derail my post about how intensely Hoyo chose to hammer on the message of "Women will protect you" in Aventurine's story with a discussion about a mlm ship, but the take-away here is going to lead in that direction anyway--so yes, Dr. Ratio is the exception.

What is interesting is that he does not come across as an exception at first, and in fact initially appears as another male character being rude and dismissive to Aventurine. Like, there are still people out there calling Ratio an unrepentant racist for this one.

Of course, it's later clarified that this is an act--likely even these insults were scripted specifically to give Sunday's spying ears the "insight" he needed to exploit Aventurine during the interrogation.

But even though it is an act, Aventurine still has noticeable trouble putting his faith in Ratio. He does genuinely doubt him a few times, despite knowing that they are working together to fool the Family.

Even his voice line about Ratio confirms that he doesn't think Ratio particularly cares for him; rather, he thinks Ratio simply tolerates him because he's slightly less unintelligent than those around them.

Ultimately, the entire act with Ratio ends up being a mirror of the real scenarios Aventurine has been experiencing with men his whole life (at least as far as we are shown his life). Men abandon him to fend for himself (unwillingly, like his father, or willingly, like Diamond leaving Aventurine to deal with Penacony alone on the inside). Ratio keeps leaving Aventurine completely alone. Men attempt to humiliate him and violate his boundaries (like Sunday and his slave master). Ratio insults Aventurine's appearance and intelligence repeatedly. Men betray him (like Oswaldo Schneider and his men leaving the Avgin to die). Ratio "betrays" him.

I'm not saying when Aventurine devised the plan for their act, he consciously drew up a list of all the ways men had hurt him in the past and had Ratio re-enact them one by one, but like... that's what happened, whether or not Aventurine intended it.

And okay, the shrinking scene in Dewlight Pavilion was just for fun and probably only slightly fetishy, the devs promise; yes, it was supposed to be a joke! ...But it's also not a mistake that this is yet another instance of a male character in a glaringly metaphorical position of power over Aventurine. Aventurine's tiny in this scene! He's completely vulnerable! He's in a dangerous position and the male character could very much hurt him in this moment.

But Ratio doesn't. (In fact, his line here is supposed to be sarcastic, very ha ha--but also, what is Ratio really saying? "I won't do anything to you without your express consent." What a good guy.)

Virtually everything negative that we see in 2.1 is Ratio doing these things as an act at Aventurine's own request. He doesn't actually disdain Aventurine; his own voiceline about Aventurine reinforces that he sees Aventurine as talented and intelligent.

Whatever you think he was apologizing for in their early scene, he's the only person we're ever shown in-game apologizing to Aventurine at all.

He worked hard to "betray" Aventurine but only as he was instructed to do, and immediately checks in on Aventurine's well-being afterward, even urging him to give up the plan if it becomes too much to handle.

And then, of course, there's the note: "Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck."

After this point, it cannot be denied that Ratio is unequivocally on Aventurine's side, wants to help him, and is not doing so out of any sense of self-gain but largely because he is a good person who simply cares about Aventurine's fate. By the end of 2.1, it can no longer be doubted that Ratio is the exception to the "gender rule" of Aventurine's life, which--the story shows us again and again--was that guidance, protection, and care for Aventurine come from women, while men repeatedly represent dismissal, betrayal, or pain.

Ratio is, at least as far as Aventurine's story shows us, the proof that men can be good, that things are not as black and white in Aventurine's life as they might appear, and that--if you do choose to ship him with or see Aventurine as attracted to men--his attraction could be validated (and potentially reciprocated) by a male figure who would not bring additional harm to Aventurine's life. Aventurine makes the final decision to live after seeing Ratio's note--the exception to the rule ultimately proves to be the last piece needed to keep him alive.

But I promised I wasn't going to derail my own post about w o m e n, so let me get to the final point, and the one I really wanted to talk about: Although Ratio gets virtually all the credit for "saving" Aventurine in the fandom, Aventurine was actually saved by, you guessed it, another woman.

Not going to lie, the reason I started this post was specifically because I wanted to talk about how Acheron and Aventurine's dynamic was completely unexpected but actually fits flawlessly with the theme of feminine guidance in Aventurine's story.

Despite the fact that Aventurine made Acheron's life much harder and actively used her as a chip in his grand gamble, she doesn't blame or chastise him for those actions. Although she expresses some incredulity that Aventurine is actually that lucky, she then turns around and congratulations him for his ingenuity, immediately supporting him despite the fact that they don't even truly know each other.

Then it gets even more interesting. Acheron, who frequently hits her companions with deep and sometimes very emotionally fraught questions, asks Aventurine: "Have you never wavered?"

We as players know for a fact that Aventurine is constantly wavering, constantly doubting himself, his luck, and whether he'll even live--or even wants to live--to see tomorrow. But we also know that Aventurine is not forthcoming about those truths, refusing to express them to anyone, even himself. The only way we hear those dark truths is through his "future" self (who by the way, is once again another male figure cutting Aventurine down--of course it's himself but it's also, from the player's perspective, once again reinforcing the message that he isn't going to find safety or kindness in an adult male presence). Aventurine almost constantly deflects and diverts when his emotions or struggles are brought to the fore (unless he's divulging them for the specific purpose of allowing someone else to weaponize them). "I'm fine," he says, like a lying liar who lies.

But he doesn't lie to Acheron.

He chooses to be completely candid with her, to lance open the deepest wound of his life--that he can win and win and win and still have lost everything. The glitz and the glamour has all been stripped away here, at the end of everything, and Aventurine finally feels safe enough to admit that he fears he has absolutely nothing in his life worth living for.

And then, we get this direct parallel: Aventurine looks to Acheron, the woman now before him, for guidance, for explanation, exactly as he looked to his sister in the past.

He needs help, he needs answers, and he is continually seeking that help from the female figures in his life, whose support and kindness echo the lost care of his mother and sister.

"Go where you should be," Acheron tells Aventurine, guiding him across the river of death just as his sister insisted that he flee through the rain toward life.

Look guys, Acheron's even the one who reminds Aventurine to look at Ratio's note in the first place because apparently being an emanator of Nihility gives you x-ray vision, but my girl just gets no credit at all for being Aventurine's real savior, come on now!! Yes, Ratio's note was the final reminder Aventurine needed that someone would be waiting for him on the other side, but Aventurine would never have even gotten to the point of being willing to read that note if Acheron hadn't stepped in and provided him an answer to his question.

She feeds him back his own answer: "Why does life slumber? To rehearse the death for which we are not currently prepared." It is Acheron who reminds Aventurine that giving into the Nihility is pointless, and that rather than simply embracing a meaningless death, it is up to humanity itself to find and make meaning by living. It's this, not Ratio's note, that Aventurine gives as his reason for choosing to go on when asked by his own younger self. It's Acheron's words that finally give Aventurine an answer--why do we live just to die? Because there are people we can still make proud. Because when we go into death, we should do so with our heads held high, having achieved our own sense of purpose in this life.

Ratio gave Aventurine a promise: Someone is waiting for you to come back.

But Acheron gave Aventurine a reason: If life is inherently meaningless, doesn't that just mean you are free to give it meaning yourself?

She saved him, as women have been saving him all his life.

Anyway, this has already been horrendously long, but really what I wanted to say is that I think it is absolutely fascinating how consistent Aventurine's writing is when it comes to portraying where his support comes from and who he seeks guidance from. (Psst, just in case you still haven't figured it out, it's women!) In virtually every instance we are shown, we see the message reinforced that women are Aventurine's greatest allies and role models, while male figures are continually positioned to intentionally or unintentionally let him down and cause him distress.

"But women playing the supporting role to a male character is nothing new, Star, why are you so excited by this?"

Because the role women are playing in Aventurine's life is not the subservient supporter and emotional crutch role that female characters all too often play to male counterparts. None of the women in Penacony or Aventurine's past were there to do the emotional labor for him, to be a trophy or prize, or to cater to his needs. They don't exist solely to help him fulfill his character motivations; they aren't following him around waiting for his next request as their only role in the plot.

Instead, with Aventurine's story, we almost have an inversion of gender roles, where the male character eschews the stereotypical "men are leaders, fighters, and stoic heroes" archetype. Instead, no matter how hard he tries to hide it and keep a stiff upper lip, it is clear from 2.0-2.1's story that Aventurine is a deeply insecure, lonely, and explicitly traumatized survivor of genocide, slavery, and exploitation. Unlike most male characters, who are very rarely portrayed as genuine victims--because come on, shouldn't men be strong enough to fight back? Shouldn't men be able to shrug it off when they are hurt, emotionally or physically? (Of course I'm rolling my eyes here!)--Aventurine is belittled, humiliated, emasculated, and victimized on-screen, roles almost exclusively reserved for women, for whom surviving victimization in fiction is seen as noble.

Meanwhile, the women in Aventurine's life take on the roles traditionally given to male characters. They're both emotionally and physically his protectors. Aventurine's sister gave her life to guard his safety; Acheron ensured he could safely pass beyond the river of Nihility into the Primordial Dreamscape. They give him the tools necessary to succeed where he could not succeed on his own. His plan could never have gotten off the ground without Topaz and Jade entrusting their Cornerstones to him. The knowledge and capabilities of the women around him--not their "feminine charms"--are what allow them to help keep Aventurine on the right path even though he does waver. Even women who disrespect him, like Sparkle, still play a positive role in his life, able to provide him insight gained with their own intellect and talents.

When he has no one to rely on and doesn't know what to do, Aventurine is able to continually turn to the women around him, asking for and receiving not servitude or fawning, but their genuine wisdom and guidance.

tl;dr: If nobody else has him, Aventurine knows this random woman he met two minutes ago on the street will have him, because the women in his life literally never let him down.

(It's just so, so good, and ultimately, it should be very clear why Aventurine's story is as popular with women as it is! A+, Hoyo!)

[troublesomesnitch]

The Devil You Know

Aemond x Septa!Reader - Pt. 2

Little follow-up to this, but hopefully works OK on its own! There might be a third and final part also.

Contents: Book!Aemond, filth and depravity. Coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, medieval fuckboy Aemond. Just the tip...

Words: 3200

Full disclosure - possibly a bit unpolished because I wanted to get it done before S2.

-

You left the grand sept just days after your investiture. 

At noon on the first day of the new month, a royal courier came to fetch you, loading your meagre belongings onto a cart to bring both that and yourself to the castle. To your new home and abode: a chamber with one bed, one table and one little chair, one sconce and one seven-pointed star on the wall. Naturally in the servant’s quarters, but on the highest floor, along with the ladies’ maids, far away from the damp cellars and busy kitchens.

The queen’s household is large, and you are somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy; expected to follow orders, but able to give them, too. You are a septa now, a woman grown, and for the first time in all of your life you have no Mother Superior to answer to, no Septon Alester, and no other girls sharing your bedchamber - which is both a blessing and a curse. It is nice and quiet to be by yourself, free of prying eyes and Sister Sybella’s snoring. But no one pays notice when you slip out at night, and if you run into a maid or steward, they naturally assume that you are headed towards Her Grace or Princess Helaena’s chambers. 

Luckily, Prince Aemond’s rooms are in roughly the same direction. 

When others are near, he is perfectly honourable. Really, his performance is quite impressive. Not too eager, not too distant, perfectly measured when he greets you in the halls, or sits with his mother in her solar. But at night, at night he is different. When the hour grows late and the royal family say their goodnights, he will find a chance to strike, to brush past you and squeeze your wrist, or run his fingers over the small of your back to let you know that he wishes to see you. That he wants you to come to him tonight. 

To his chamber, to his bed, to his arms. 

It is a humiliating plight, and you climb the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with all the enthusiasm of a convict walking to the scaffold. Weighed down by the guilt of your actions, terrified that someone should know. And resentful, of the prince for making you dishonour your vows, and of the gods for cursing you with beauty - had they made you ugly, Prince Aemond would never have spared you a glance, and you would not be in this predicament. You would not be forced to indulge his lusts and endure the liberties he takes with your body. 

But most of all, worst of all, you feel ashamed. Of all the things you do together, and of the fact that you cannot deny it does sometimes bring you pleasure, too. 

You have permitted him to kiss your mouth, your throat, your chest. Wrapped your hands  around his member and stroked it while he fondled your breasts. Let him lie on top of you and rut against you, still fully clothed, pressing hard between your legs until both of you were sweaty and panting. And once, only once, you let him slip his hand up under your skirts and touch you there, and it felt more wonderful than anything else you have ever experienced. So wonderful that you have not allowed him to do it again, for fear that it should corrupt your soul and spirit. That you will always crave it, the warm press of his fingers, and the way your body suddenly shook and tightened with a pleasure so exquisite you could not help but cry out in ecstasy. 

But he has never had you. Never put any part of himself inside you, never even seen your naked body. It is the strangest thing - there are surely many ladies who would give themselves to him, wholly and fully, yet for some reason, he wants only you.

And he does not waste time with any sort of pleasantries. The joys of night are short, and he can only keep you for so long - you must be back in time to rest, and at the very least before the scullions and kitchen maids rise. You have hardly latched the door before he wraps you in his longing arms, laying you on his bed and parting your legs. The sheets are soft against your back, and his leathers are smooth and cool, and you do not protest when he lays on top of you. You have grown used to the feel of his chest against yours, the heaviness of him, and the hard and lean lines of his body, so different from your own. You have grown used to his kisses too. You like it when he pecks gently at your lips, and when he slides his tongue into your mouth and curls it around your own. When he strokes your body in all sorts of ways, to see what darling little noises he can coax from you this time. 

“Have you ever been touched like this before?” he breathes - a silly question, since he knows the answer well enough already. 

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

“Say it again,” he commands, closing his eye and breathing in deeply, pressing his nose to your sweet-smelling hair. 

“No other man has ever touched me - only you.” 

It arouses him very much, hearing those words, and he groans softly when he takes your hand and guides it down between your bodies. Knowing what he wants you to do, you hike your skirts up, just enough to run your own fingers along the folds of your womanhood and hold them up for him to taste. Which he does with the most fervent passion, sighing as he licks them clean of any trace of you. He has asked many times to be allowed to taste your sweetness from its source, but you have staunchly refused, appalled at the mere suggestion. He should not press his mouth to such a dirty place. He should not lick something that serves only the body’s most revolting and shameful functions. 

Usually, once he has kissed you like this for a while, and pressed and rubbed against you, he will either reach his end from that alone, or he will make you pleasure him with your hands. But not tonight. 

“Let me feel you,” he pants. “Just this once let me put it inside - ”

“It is a sin,” you gasp, mortified, but nonetheless shivering when he pulls at your sleeve, exposing your shoulder to cover it with kisses. 

“As is this,” he whispers. “And this, and this - ”

His mouth is lovely and warm on your skin, and his teeth are gentle when they scrape along your throat, nibbling softly above your neckline, and biting down hard below it. Making your breathing uneven as you struggle to string your words together. 

“But it is different - you know that it is, please don’t make me do it…”

The prince lifts his head to look at you, propped up on his elbow. 

“It is the movements that are the most sinful part of the act - is it not?” he says, cupping your face and stroking your cheek in the tenderest of ways. When you nod, he adds, “and if I were to not perform them, would that not be a lesser sin?”

His tone is innocent enough, but you know that wicked look in his eyes, the self-assured draw of his mouth. He knows that he is right - it is the movements, not the insertion itself that makes the act of coupling so sinful. And if he showed restraint and did not move in any such manner, then you suppose it would be a lesser sin. Although they did not mention such possible circumventions in your training, naturally. And there are other issues, still. 

“But my maidenhead…” you mutter, looking bashfully to the side when the prince touches his nose to yours. 

“I will be gentle,” he breathes. “I will be so very gentle - my angel, my love - let me at least have you this way… ”

It never really is your choice to make. To be alone with the prince is to balance on a precarious ledge - you can deny him some things, but only so long as you can offer something else that might appease him. And though he never makes overt threats, you are painfully aware that displeasing him could have dire consequences. That he could hurt you in a multitude of ways if he so wished. 

You squirm under his gaze, riddled with so many conflicting emotions; fearful of his intentions, yet blushing at the terms of endearment. Who would not want to hear such lovely words from a prince?

“Just this once,” he whispers, his voice soft and amorous. Just this once…

All you give him is the faintest nod, a slight incline of your head, and his hands are already pushing at your skirts, bunching them up over your parted knees. His breath hitches at the sight of your womanhood, your most intimate parts that you have never bared to him before; wet and inviting, framed by soft curls. Lovelier than he had ever even imagined, that rosy colour of your innermost lips, that little pearl you will not let him touch. And most of all your maidenhead, the delicate tissue that partially covers your entrance, and that he will earnestly try not to damage beyond what is necessary. 

For reasons he could not say, you have quite enchanted him. So much so that he has lavished more patience and tenderness on you than ever before on a woman, and that despite seeing so little return on the investment. For weeks he has contented himself with just your hand and your reluctant kisses, the mere feel of your body beneath him. Many times, he could have taken you by force, and many times he wanted to, yet somehow he could not bring himself to do it, could not bear the thought that you should hate him for it. That your delicate limbs should be hurt in trying to fight him off. 

He has waited long for this, and he does not want to give you time to change your mind, so he only quickly shrugs off his doublet and unbuttons his breeches to free his manhood. Which is painfully hard and in dire need of relief.

It still looks so strange to you, that unholy appendage, with its swollen shaft and its fat, fleshy head. Like the poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Kingswood, though you always keep that thought to yourself - you doubt the prince would appreciate such a childish comparison. He strokes it slowly while his other hand disappears between your legs, brushing over your womanhood and spreading your folds to reveal your little opening. Untried, uncharted by anything or anyone. 

You grit your teeth when the tips of his fingers are replaced by - something else. 

Slowly, steadily, he begins to ease himself inside of you, and you feel your muscles instantly and unwittingly tensing up, startled at the sensation. At the pressure, and at the sound the prince makes when the tip of his member is enveloped by your body, the tight rim of your entrance squeezing its sensitive head. The rest of him will not fit, but he spits into his palm and strokes it along his shaft, and that makes things glide a little better, as do your slow, deliberate breaths. 

It hurts, it really does, only not in the way you expected. You do not so much feel like anything is being torn or ripped - rather, you feel stretched, forcibly split apart and opened far beyond what should be possible. Your insides burn from it, and you wince with pain when he adjusts his position, spreading your thighs wider and driving his hips forward. Pressing in until he is fully seated. 

And he moans from how perfect you feel around him. So soft, so tight. His seeing eye closes and his breathing is hoarse, strained from how badly he needs to move, needs to thrust; his arms trembling by the sides of your head as he struggles to hold himself still. It is a bizarre thing to do, you think, just laying together like this, one on top of the other, completely motionless. Your legs raised over his hips, his chin resting against your forehead. His manhood swelling within you, throbbing with need. You can only hope it means that he will finish quickly and release you from this chore, from the searing pain that scorches your core, and the feeling of being so trapped, so tethered. Much like one of the many-legged creatures on Princess Helaena’s wall; splayed out and nailed down, held in place by a foreign object piercing your body. 

But the prince likes it. You have never heard such heavy sighs from him as just now, never seen such utter bliss on his face. His forehead is damp with sweat, his brows drawn together, his upper lip subtly twitching. One of his hands trails up the back of your naked thigh, lifting your leg to curl it around his back, and he moans from that too, as the slight shift gives him a brief feeling of movement. It is not at all comfortable for you, but you are distracted when he seeks your lips, claiming your mouth with slow, deep kisses. His tongue rolls over yours, pulling back to lick along your lip before plunging into your mouth again, over and over, in a strangely repetitive way. A rhythmic way. As if he is making love to your mouth, since he cannot make love to your body. 

It feels lovely, so lovely that it makes your insides twitch. Which in turn makes the prince curse, and a violent shudder run through his body. 

“Do it again,” he moans, and like always you do your best to please him. Clenching your muscles, squeezing tight around him, then releasing again. Very slowly, and each time feeling his breathy gasp against your face, and the thrum of a heartbeat inside of you - whether his or yours, you cannot say. It is painful with your already sore muscles, and it must be a poor excuse for what it is supposed to mimic, but it is still better than nothing, judging by how the prince moans. How he bites his lip and furrows his brow as your insides twitch and contract, so tight and slick and warm. 

How strange to think that now you have become one. Now you are as close as two people can ever be. Closer still when the prince slithers his arm underneath your body, pressing you hard against him and cradling your head. Your fingers are clenched in the damp material of his shirt, and he unfurls them gently to wrap your arms around his neck, around his shoulders; wanting you to hold him, to embrace him as a woman should her lover. 

It makes your discomfort somewhat more bearable, having something to cling and anchor yourself to. The closeness, and the intimacy of it, how his face is right above yours, your noses touching and breaths mingling. He drags his mouth against your own, from side to side, his lips brushing over yours, then over the rest of your face; your chin, your cheekbones, your temples. So, so gently, and like often before, you are stunned that he can be both so cruel and so tender with you. So selfish, and so soft. 

He has had countless chances to force himself on you, yet he never did. Even now he is keeping his promise, holding back, fighting hard to not succumb to that most powerful and natural instinct of a man, this urge to thrust, to copulate. You can feel that he is shivering with the force of his need, gritting his teeth, unable to keep completely still - there is a gentle, almost imperceptible swaying of his body that he cannot help, an impossibly slow rocking with each of his ragged breaths. 

He really is beautiful, you think, with his striking eyes and thick, silvery hair; pink lips parted in a breathy sigh. You could not say what possessed you to be so bold, but you find yourself reaching up to place a wet, lingering kiss underneath his jaw, right on top of the constellation of freckles that adorns his neck, swiping your tongue across it and tasting the sweat of his skin. To an almost immediate effect - at the feeling of your timid caresses, the prince curses loudly, clenching his fingers in the sheets, arching his back - 

“No!” you exclaim, “not inside me, not inside - ”

But it is too late; he has already shuddered once, and his manhood is already pulsing and spurting when he manages to withdraw from you. So stiff that it flops up against his stomach, a grotesque thing to look upon, the way it just hangs there, squirting out semen as he groans and gasps. At the very end of his rapture he grasps it with one hand, stroking it hard all the way from the base to the tip, as though wanting to squeeze out every last bit of fluid. And once he is spent, he rolls off of you and onto his back, completely unceremoniously. Leaving you raw and hurting inside, and with the sticky feeling of his semen trickling out between your thighs. 

“If it catches,” you whisper, afraid to even speak the words. “If I should be with child…”

The prince runs a hand over his face, panting and still too lightheaded to be thinking clearly, because he stupidly tells you that needn’t worry, he will have a tea brought to you -

“No! please no,” you shriek, panicked. “They would know I broke my vows - ”

“Then I will bring it myself,” he snaps, but rather than reassure you, his harsh tone only makes you tear up.

At the sigh of your quivering mouth, his face softens, and he reaches out to pull you into his arms, hold you against his chest, stroke your hair and rock you gently. Say forgive me, forgive me, I quite forgot myself, you mustn’t cry, my love -

“Why must you torment me,” you sob. “Sooner or later someone will know, they will shame me and ruin me - “

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. “I would not let them - I will cut off any hand that hurts you - “

You press your ear to his chest to drown out the sound of his voice, for he has said these same words many times before, and with the same fervour and poignancy. He adores you, he reveres you, he will cut off any hand that hurts you, any eye that ogles you, any tongue that slanders your name. 

You haven’t the courage to tell him - the only hand that hurts you is his own. 

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @ladythornofrivia, @blackswxnn, @hightpwer, @toodlesxcuddles, @arcielee

@targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost

And thank you @aemondsbabygirl for being a great one-woman focus group!

[sirenscriptures]

home in your embrace — könig

✧ synopsis ; he always hated when he was away from you for so long. sleeping in a small, empty bed that wasn’t always the comfiest was a test in itself, but not having you with him was so much more difficult. but whenever he did come home, it was always a blessing to melt into your arms as if it were the first time again…

before you read: female reader, size difference, passionate sex, groping, body worship, some hurt/comfort elements, reunion sex, belly bulge, cunnilingus, breeding, some crying, use of endearment names, some overstim from könig (poor thing is all pent up bcs he hasn’t seen you in months <3) 2.9k

within every passing second, you could hardly contain yourself.

each tick of the clock on the wall was bordering on anthemic to you as you couldn’t even keep still anymore.

it was already hard enough for you to keep still on a normal day, so this was even worse.

you were at least relieved that you were home alone now, for if anyone else had seen you like these they’d be more than worried with the way you were almost frantically pacing up and down your living room.

come to think of it, as empty as it felt within this house over the past few months, you were also hugely relieved you were home alone when you got the call that he was coming home this week. the way you’d jumped up, practically in tears as you exclaimed your joy was enough to scare the birds perched outside your window.

looking back now, as the hours shaved down to mere minutes until he’d be entering through that door, you never realized in the moment how hard this had been on you.

you’d grown so accustomed to the empty feeling in your large bed, but not without quite a few nights of tear-stained pillows. the scent of one of his jackets was comforting, enveloping you in warmth more than the blankets ever could, until you eventually felt your eyes stinging again, your throat feeling as though it were closing up.

even with his gentle voice over a video call that usually lasted hours into the night, it was never the same. there were moments where it really did take your mind off of things, and others where you just felt like breaking down in front of him. but, you knew it wouldn’t help him any. after all, he was feeling the exact same way.

every second könig was separate from you felt like torture. it was even worse when he’d be able to see how much it was affecting you when he was on video call with you.

while you thought you’d put up a pretty good front, he could see right past it. he always could. the pain in your eyes and at times your voice was nearly unbearable, but he didn’t want to make you feel worse by pointing it out.

instead, he made an effort to send you some of the most beautiful messages in the mornings to wake up to. it was a small gesture, but god, was it enough to make you smile from ear to ear like it was the first time again.

his messages ranged from the simplest good morning texts to the most precious paragraphs of how he couldn’t wait to grow old with you, and see just how gorgeous you remained throughout your lives together, the lines of your face being mere traces of that beauty.

but even still, nothing matched the beauty of you two being together physically. and the fact that it had been months since you felt each other’s touch was a true test. before könig had even met you, the world was more dull and lonely than it had been, even in his worst years. and being without you for that long made that feeling resurge. that hollow feeling of true emptiness was hard even for him to fight, and he’d felt fairly lonely most of his life.

but this felt like a different kind of loneliness. it was one where he forced himself to have the same stoic facade in front of everyone else, yet inside he felt like there was nothing else for him to give. there were so many points where he had to collect himself in silence, much more than he’d ever needed to before. maybe it was because he was just so far from you, or that something from his past was triggered from being away from you. but regardless, it was a time he would never want to experience again.

but thankfully, it would be a while until he had to worry about feeling that way again. being just a few more minutes away from home never felt better at this moment. and it was the same for you. all of those sleepless, tearful nights didn’t seem to matter now that he was just a few miles down the street from you.

between all of the pacing you’d been doing for the past hour, you went through a quick “sweep” throughout the house to make sure it was neat. the last thing you wanted to be doing in the remaining day was clean when you had the day to spend with your boyfriend.

taking a glance in the mirror in the hallway, you forced yourself to take a deep breath. straightening out the fabric of your skirt, you made your way back to the living room. just in time, too, as you heard the front door lock click open.

the wonderful, overwhelming rush of excitement and nervousness overtook you as the door opened. finally, he was standing in front of you. or more appropriately, standing over you.

there was brief silence between you both. for a moment, it made more sense to just stare at one another. you missed those pretty blue eyes, even through his mask. just having his presence back in this house that felt so barren without him could bring you to tears.

finally, you felt yourself being pulled into him. könig’s large arms held you closer than ever, his familiar scent washing over you. at any moment you swore you could just melt into him the tighter he held you.

“my god…i missed you so much.” he sighed into your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp as he held you close. you could feel his shaky breath on your neck, his other hand almost trembling on your waist.

“i missed you too, baby.” you giggled breathlessly from how tight he had his arms wrapped around you. “but i need to be able to breathe.”

he quickly pulled back, grip lightening on you with an apologetic gaze. “ah, i’m sorry.” he chuckled.

even in pulling slightly back from you, he couldn’t resist kissing you. it was long overdue at this point, and he knew you weren’t too keen on waiting either.

his kisses were already so deep, causing you to lose your breath once more. his hands slowly began to roam your body, his touch a little rougher than usual, showing that he’d been waiting for this moment with you for quite some time.

eventually, you couldn’t help but let out a whimper as his mouth reached your neck. this was all you’d been craving for months. you wanted every single second of him to yourself, and you finally had it.

könig smiled against your sensitive skin, already leaving a sweet little mark on your neck. “you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to see you, liebling.” he purred in between breathy kisses.

“not having you next to me for that long was going to drive me insane.” he breathed out huskily, lips still peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

you felt your body heat only rising as his hands sank down your waist towards your backside. as much as he would like to ruin you right in this living room, könig took his time with you. he wanted you to feel every minute of how much he needed you; how much he missed you these past months.

your breath suddenly hitched as he squeezed your ass, calloused fingers digging into your soft flesh beneath your skirt. his breath now hot on your neck, he smirked slightly.

“and i assume you wore this cute little outfit…just for me?”

you smiled coyly. “maybe.” you giggled, caressing his face. “i wanted to give my man a proper welcome, after all.”

there was a familiar glint in his eye when you said that. it was a mix of his usual mischievousness and a certain excitement, but…this time it seemed a little different. you weren’t sure if it was due to you not being around him like this for a while, or that you’d triggered something more primal in him, but either way, it interested you even more to find out.

without an extra word, könig lifted you off your feet and into his arms effortlessly. you felt fluttering in your lower stomach as he carried you to your shared bedroom, that same look in his eyes.

you couldn’t stop your heart from racing as he set you down on the edge of the bed. it was hard for him to continue to hold himself back, especially with you looking up at him with those big doe eyes like that. he could glimpse you subtly rubbing your thighs together while keeping eye contact, the heat of your bodily excitement practically radiating off of you. if only you knew the half of what you did to him…

with him towering over you like this, both hands placed on either side of your thighs, it made you feel so small. you were already aware of how big he was compared to you, but moments like this made it so much more emphasized.

although his gaze was soft, könig’s eyes were still as piercing as ever. you swear he could see right through you without even uttering a syllable. there was also something that made him so captivating to stare at, both with and without his mask on.

his large thumb circled your soft skin as his hand cupped under your chin, tilting your head up closer to his face – that beautifully sculpted and slightly scarred face of his.

“i don’t know how you keep getting prettier every time i see you.” he whispered, smiling as he pushed you back into the mattress, lips once again colliding with yours.

his full weight wasn’t even fully against you, but you swear you could already feel every one of his muscles pressed against your body. könig was not a light man by any means, especially compared to you, yet it was so enthralling having him on top of you like this.

his kisses started to trail down your neck again, hands running all over you. he made sure to admire every curve, mark, and scar even through the thin fabric of your blouse. your sweet little whines only made him want to go further, devouring you until you couldn’t form a proper sentence anymore.

it wasn’t long before your blouse was stripped off you in between kisses, quickly being tossed away somewhere in the corner of the room. his fingers clumsily fumbled at the clasp of your bra, admiring your breasts as they spilled over your chest.

you could hear his breath grow labored as he fondled them, proceeding to suck and kiss your nipples, occasionally pinching them. your head threw back in response, a jolted moan falling from your agape mouth.

“fuck, i missed this…” he sighed into your chest.

he’d barely even started touching you, and you swore you could break from just the sheer amount of excitement alone. you squirmed the more he kissed and caressed you, breath growing shakier every minute.

it didn’t take long for his kisses to reach your stomach, hands still massaging your breasts as he continued to admire every inch of you.

the lower he went, the more you started to squirm, clearly getting a bit restless. with his hands placed on your hips, he smiled up at you, that intent look still in his eyes, practically burning into you at this point.

“now, now, schatz…” he murmurs teasingly, laying a kiss right on your lower stomach. “you have to be patient. i need to take my time with you. it’s been so long, after all.”

you nodded obediently, that desperate look still on your face as you stared down at him, hands starting to grip at the sheets beneath you.

könig pressed his lips against the thin fabric of your panties, breathing in your scent. your wetness was already so profuse that it was starting to leak outside of the fabric, the taste already coating his lips. the mere taste of you was enough for him to lap at you even through the fabric, tongue snaking in between your slick folds.

your back already starts to arch, shaky moans spilling from your lips. you’re already so stimulated, and the feeling of his mouth suckling at you through the soaked threads is nearly enough to push you over the edge.

but he isn’t done with you just because you’re close, oh no. with how badly he’s been craving you for these several bleak months away on mission, könig can’t just let you have only one orgasm. that would just be cruelty.

“hold out just a little longer for me. ok, liebe?” he murmurs, kissing your stomach. “i promise, i’m going to take good care of you.”

as much as you knew you wanted to let go, you listened to him. even though you could feel your body growing more overstimulated with each touch, you knew deep down you could hold out for him.

looking down as he repositions himself, you can see the strong bulge that has formed in his pants. that same fluttering feeling is back, except even lower this time…

his large hands went straight to his belt buckle, breath heavy and muscles tense. unbuckling his belt was a bit of a challenge, since his hands kept fumbling around shakily, causing him to curse under his breath.

your hands promptly covered his, helping to undo the metal buckle from his pants. könig smiled up at you, cupping your face gratefully.

it was so clear he was infatuated with you. from day one, he was utterly enamored with not only you physically, but also how genuine you were. whenever he stared at you like this, he felt all those same emotions coming back, just as though it were the first time again.

laying on your back still, you felt the heat rise in your face again as he crawled on top of you, dressed in nothing but his boxers now. if you felt small before, you certainly felt tiny when underneath him like this.

the mixed look of desperation and adoration was what really got his blood rushing. you were so beautiful like this…it made him want to drag it out all night with you.

könig let his hand guide his cock to your entrance, resting his warm tip upon it. his fingers swirled around your clit briefly before licking his fingers one last time.

“i’m going to put it in now, okay?”

you nod, hands gripping the sheets again. your bottom lip hooked under your teeth as you watched him.

an abrupt groan escaped him as he pushed into you. the feeling of your soft walls so easily swallowing him into your wetness drove him crazy. your moans grew louder the more he pushed his cock into you, eventually going balls deep inside of you.

“mmmh, könig…” you whimpered feebly, knuckles turning lighter with how hard you gripped the sheets.

pausing to gather himself, könig pressed his lips against yours sloppily, tongue swiping over yours. he pulled back, practically drooling now.

“let me know if it hurts.” he choked out, starting to pump in and out of you.

his thrusts were deep, and slow at first. you could feel every inch sink so tenderly inside of you, a slight bulge forming in the stem of your lower stomach.

you could feel a burning sensation pricking at your eyes, your head rolling back as you began to enter a deep, pleasure-drunken haze.

könig could feel that same primal sensation starting to simmer again. your noises made it so hard to keep it together, and he could feel his once clean, deep thrusts turning sloppy, his legs growing shaky the more he fucked you.

“mein engel, du fühlst dich so gut…” he stammered, his moans dipping down to slight growls as his grip on your hips grew tighter.

his thrusts grew faster, and in turn, louder. könig could feel himself getting closer with each push inside of you. it was hard for him to control himself, and by the looks of it, you were in the same position.

your moans grew to be so broken, shifting into shaky sobs of pleasure and overstimulation. with you now pushed into a mating press, you could feel your g-spot being hit over and over as his cock fucked you so deep.

“i love you,” he groaned, his last few thrusts slapping against you. “i love you so much, meine liebe.”

you breathed out shakily. “i love you too,” in between his thrusts you looked at him pleadingly.

“i want you to..cum inside me.” you choked out, the thrusts continuing their pace as you spoke.

könig let his eyes roll back, moaning out your name with so much love as he spilled into you. his fingertips dug into the flesh of your thighs, making sure you got every last drop with his last defining thrusts.

the two of you, now panting, sweaty messes, stayed in each other's embrace for so long. it didn’t matter how tired or sweaty you were. you needed this close contact more than ever right now.

eventually, könig smiled at you again, running his fingers through your hair and cupping your face. it never would get old to him seeing that beautiful face. and he made sure you always knew it.

“i’m so glad to be home with you…”

[steddielations]

- nsfw, age gap, rockstar Eddie, drummer steve

Eddie should not be wearing a plug here.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But that inner voice that led to decades of being stupid and reckless says it’s fine, it’s just for Eddie. Steve doesn’t have to know, unless he wants to find out.

It really is just for Eddie. It’s more for confidence than kink. It’s a trick he learned back when he was still getting comfortable on stage, back when he could still handle the fast life. Started way back when he was a teenager, dear old dad made sure to turn his talent into cold hard cash.

Now here Eddie is, way too many years of coping with drugs and never any therapy later, retired rockstar doing the whole studio owner mentoring baby rockstars thing. Someone’s gotta keep rock and roll alive so long as Eddie’s still kicking.

So the first thing that comes with years of being stone cold sober is realizing he spent too much time on the road and in the closet, not enough time growing roots so he’d have someone to settle down with when he stopped being so afraid of it.

The second thing is a dick that doesn’t work half the time because maybe if someone told him doing drugs would land him limp-dick at 40, he would’ve stopped sooner. The third thing is that he’s going to die alone with his floppy dick and trust issues.

So with the wild life Eddie lives nowadays, it’s no surprise that a couple smiles and smooth words from a good looking young drummer sent him into a spiral.

Steve’s a session musician, an independent guy that looked good on paper and even better in person. He’s got more heart and grit than the last few ‘frontmans’ Eddie tried to get something real out of. Steve knows it too, the way everyone does at 28.

He’s got the same cockiness in his skills as Eddie, but he knows he’s more than just his skills in a way that Eddie wishes he could’ve known at that age. He’s confident enough to make his own suggestions to Eddie, calls him old fashioned and he’s smooth about it, strikes up debates about music and he’s fucking sassy about it.

Eddie’s gotta be under some kinda spell to be considering Springsteen is one of the greats like Steve insists.

It’s not just because Steve’s younger, there’s always been girls much younger than late 20s trying to get with him for his name, status, money. Bless their hearts, maybe if he was still 20 years deep in the closet. It’s not just because Steve’s a guy either, there’s plenty of young guys now that dare to bat their eyes and call him Daddy and want to get fucked.

No, it’s because Steve’s different. The opposite, even.

Eddie slips up and calls him sweetheart once and it’s like Steve was just waiting to open that door and let every babe and handsome and honey slip out from his lips.

He notices Eddie checking out his biceps as he’s banging away on the drums once and sends him a wink that nearly makes him flatline.

He’s not intimidated to get in Eddie’s space. He has no reason to ever be in the control room, but Eddie doesn’t question it when Steve’s close, leaning over him with a warm hand pressed to the small of his back for one second. Eddie’s so hot faced and flustered that he gets his long hair caught in some of the board switches.

“Fuck, fucking, god damn it,” Eddie curses, tangling it even more trying to yank it free and vowing to chop it all off later.

“It’s alright, here, let's get you sorted out.” Steve’s steady hand closes over Eddie’s, gentle and warm as he eases the lock of hair free. Eddie’s breath lodges in his throat when Steve reaches up, fingers brushing Eddie’s face as he combs through his long silver streaked waves and says, “Don’t ever cut your hair. I love it too much.”

God. Steve makes Eddie feel like he’s a pretty young thing getting moves put on him in the kinda club that he was always too famous, too busy and too afraid to go to at that age.

It can’t be real. Steve can’t be serious. Eddie’s mean. Bitter. He talks shit about everyone and everything. He’s nothing without a guitar. He’s got the prickly rind of daddy issues and doesn’t even have Wayne to make it better anymore. The whole world adoring him all his life only fed his ego. He’s worth millions of dollars and feels like nothing most days. His only real friends are his bandmates that he doesn’t call often enough because they love each other, but they’re sick of each other, being stuck together all those years.

Surely, Steve’s just bored and playing with him. Eddie needs a kick of confidence to deal with it until Steve’s contract ends and he’s done playing with Eddie.

So that’s why Eddie’s got a plug up his ass at the studio. At work, technically.

It helps. It gives him all the inner fire he needs to ignore when he feels Steve’s eyes burning into him, and push his hand through his hair that Steve loves, and sway his hips as Steve’s gaze follows him walking out to the bathroom.

Oh yeah, Eddie’s still got it.

And he has to piss. Really bad. His bladder just ain’t what it used to be and when he’s gotta go, he’s gotta go and for whatever reason, he can’t do it with the plug inside him.

Eddie’s locked in a stall so he doesn’t hesitate to undo his belt and reach inside to pull it out. He holds it while he uses the toilet, so distracted sighing in relief like such an old man that he doesn’t realize how lube-slippery the thing is.

It’s too late. He drops his plug and it rolls out from under the stall just as the bathroom door opens and shuts slowly.

Then Eddie feels both relief and panic when it’s Steve’s voice that asks, “Eddie, did you drop something, honey?”

[lxvvie]

There's something about the way...

Price praises you. He encourages you to take the initiative even when he holds the reins. The battle-hardened bastard has seen so many amazing things in his life but nothing compares to the sight he sees as you succumb to yet another orgasm underneath him. And he'll do it again and again just to see you glow and come under his praises.

Gaz surprises you. Actions speak louder than words, and the man would much rather show you than he can tell you. And show you he does. You lost track of how many positions he's had you in and if you weren't so tired, you'd chuck a pillow at the cheeky bastard. You're pretty good, Gaz. Pretty. Good.

Soap worships you. You're like the fucking sun to him, something worth returning home to after every assignment. All the shit he's seen, you're a sight for sore eyes. Every flaw you think you have, he kisses it away. He'll always kiss it away. Your body is a sight to behold and he'll worship it every time.

Ghost excites you. He doesn't see how he does it, doesn't think he'll ever see it, but the intensity in his eyes, the purpose of every movement he makes, it excites you. The way he looks at you like he wants to devour you, the way he touches you even when it isn't sexual, god, it turns you on like no other. And even in the urgency of your lovemaking is Ghost still tender and considerate, everything he's always wanted but never had until you.

Alejandro soothes you. He knows all too well the pressures of life and leadership and would rather you be calmed by his touch than anything else. Every action, from the way his hands rove over your body to the words he whispers against your skin, blankets you like a soothing balm. You return the favor and you two find respite in each other's arms.

Rudy makes you laugh and makes you feel safe. He shows you how there can be humor even in passion. His quips are corny, yeah, but it suits him. And you'd have it no other way. Only Rudy can bring forth the deepest belly laughs from you while being buried deep inside you as well.

Phillip provokes you. He's a talented man through and through but the way he fucks brings out a primal need in you that you didn't realize existed. He fucks you like it's the last thing he'll ever do on this Earth and you respond with that same fervor every time.

Valeria captivates you. She is a woman who stares adversity and death in the eyes and tells them to go fuck themselves. Her presence can be felt even when she's not around and what she wants, she damn sure gets. This is what draws you to her, what has you yearning for more each and every time. And even in the midst of it all, when it's you two in the throes of sex is there a vulnerability that she doesn't dare show to anyone else, a side to her that's just as alluring as the badass you see and experience on a daily basis.

König embraces you. Because he himself wasn't embraced. Because he himself sought that same embrace. His frame, no matter how big, is comforting just the same. He's an interesting fellow with layers upon layers, each more surprising than the last it seems. Driven and focused on the battlefield, a nervous albeit eager and faithful mess outside of it. He more than makes up for it when he's with you and it's both a pity and blessing that no one, save you, experiences it.

Horangi tests you. The bastard lives life on the edge and it's no different when he's with you. The games he plays would infuriate anyone and you're pushed to the brink of orgasm and brought back every time. His fingers have you cursing and pleading with him to end your misery and let you cum―please, Horangi―but he doesn't relent. Not yet. He hasn't even gotten around to using his ace in the hole. Patience, baby.

[aluciahaz]

God. First off, I adore your writing so much!! Can never get enough tbh.

Secondly, Adam with a mommy kink?? And he doesn't even tell you until he accidentally lets it slip outside of the bedroom during a normal conversation. At first, he tries to deny it or cover it up by saying he totally said a different word, but after a bit of prodding he's putty in your hands and now you most certainly have an issue to deal with later today. Poor baby can berely even focus on his daily tasks with how embarrassed and eager he is.

And don't even get me started on when you actually get him in bed. He's such a brat, but his hard on immediately gives him away. Whisper a few sweet words in his ear, and suddenly, he's mommy's good little boy.

ah TYSM for the compliment!! i try my best🙏 and you're SO REAL abt adam😭

this is a bit ooc and yes i skimmed over his daily tasks because i couldn’t think of anything sorry 😭😭 hope you enjoy though!

what a mess

—adam x gn!reader

—includes : mommy kink, sub!adam, dom!reader, crying

“adam, for fuck’s sake just be normal for once and put your dishes in the sink—“

“c’mon, babes! there’s a lot!”

“there’s only four! god, you were doing so good the past week too! even rinsing your plates! what happened—?”

“mommy plea—,”

“…”

“…”

“say that again?”

“i said—uh, i said MONSTER. cause you’re a heartless fuckin’ monster making me put all these plates away in the sink—”

a start to a new revelation bloomed right in front of you, just like adam’s increasing blush. you laugh in glee, this news bringing so many questions to your mind.

“don’t be coy. c’mon, baby boy. what did you really call me?”

“wh—cough—HUH?” his startled face said it all as he looked at you, dumbfounded. sure, you’ve called him a few names before, but they were more on the line of ‘idiot’ and ‘dumbass’ rather than something endearing like ‘baby boy.’

and he liked it.

it was clear he did. from the way he gulped nervously, to how his eyes dilated like a cat’s, you knew.

you cackle at his dramatic reaction before opening your mouth, about to brush over the topic for your lover’s sanity before something truly miraculous happened.

“…mommy.”

his eyes divert to the floor, clearly nervous about your reaction. he wasn't one to share his more vulnerable side. it took months alone to have him admit that he even had flaws for goodness sake, but this was a big step for him. an act of trust.

and you sure as hell weren’t going to reject it.

“good boy,” you coo, lifting his head up with your hand, a gentle smile on your face. you feel him hesitantly rub his cheek into you palm, looking up at you with a dazed expression of shock. it was evident he didn't expect you to react this way.

when you plant a kiss on his lips, he’s practically melting into your touch. usually, he’d try to dominate every action, fighting for control to support his unhealthy ego, yet this time, he gave it all to you; a blessing.

he moans into your mouth weakly as you push him back into the kitchen counter, making him lean his back over it as you deepen the kiss. you can feel his breath quicken, the increasing warmth from his cheeks, and his desperate hands clawing at your waist.

all signs for you to keep going. an invitation to ravage him and leave him breathless.

but you pull back.

he whines in annoyance, grabbing your shoulder in order to make you come back, but you click your tongue, flicking his hand off you.

“you still have to go shopping, baby. later, i’ll deal with you, alright?”

he groans in frustration, glaring straight at you. but, you stay firm in your decision. he needs to be responsible. knowing that you won’t budge, he sighs, grumbling as he leaves to do his monotonous work.

“so good for me!”

that makes him leave real quick, hurriedly slamming the door behind him. goodness, he was so easy to fluster.

finally, the day passes, and he’s back home, clearly still embarrassed yet excited for what would come next. not to mention, impatient.

“shit, babes! you have no idea how fuckin’ hard it was to shop with you on my mind! couldn’t even focus on my goddamn lunch—mmpfh!”

but you can’t blame him. you are too.

he’s quickly shut up with your lips and pushed down to the bed with a firm hand as you climb on top of him. you remove his clothes hastily, not caring where it lands as you practically manhandle him.

“turn around for me, baby,” you huff out, the both of you gasping for air from your rushed kiss.

he frowns, glaring at you with defiance.

“why the hell would i do that? i wanna see your face when i fuck you,” adam smirks, running his hands up your sides. the fool.

you roll your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“who said you would be the one fucking me?”

his expression was almost comical. his eyes blew up, and his mouth dropped in astonishment at your forwardness. but, with you over his body, pressed flushed against every inch of skin, you could feel he was into it. really into it, in fact.

you chuckle at his reaction before flipping his body around, a surprised grunt leaving his lips before you kiss his nape, trailing your tongue across it.

the shiver up his spine was delightful, and you feel him relax under your body as you continued pressing kisses down his spine like you were following a path. although it was quite a sweet action, it was obvious that adam wasn’t one to wait for the main course.

“c’mon, babes! the fuck is the hold-up?” he gripes, turning his face to the side to scowl at you.

“is that any way to talk to me? i thought you wanted to be good,” you move up until your lips are right beside his ear, your hands slipping underneath his chest, inching higher and higher.

“you were so polite this morning, and so adorable too with your blush covering your face, your eyes unable to meet mine,” your tone is hushed as you speak, and for once, adam is quiet, only focused on listening to you.

with a grin, you feel the buds on his chest as you roam your hands under his torso, and you can’t help but pinch them ever so slightly, eliciting a gasp from the gruff man below you.

“i know you can be good for me, pretty boy,” you kiss the corner of his jawline as you keep teasing his chest, making him shudder and moan from your fingers.

“so why don’t you try again and ask nicely this time, alright?” you say, nipping his ear ever so slightly.

his breath is shaky, and although known to be the most egotistical angel in heaven, his pride crumbles underneath your sweet words, melting his brain like chocolate over a warm fireplace.

“please—please, touch me more,” he manages to say, stumbling over his words as he surrenders himself to you.

“please, who?”

“please… m-mommy—AH! ha—,” he keens as you twist your fingers, making him jolt in both pleasure and pain, digging his face into the pillow.

“good boy!”

the whine that leaves his throat is full of joy, pleased at your praise.

and you never let it up as the night goes on.

“taking me so well, baby boy,” you say, thrusting into him slowly as you let him get used to it. it was the first time he’s done this, yet it was like he’s done it for years considering how his back arches in a crescent-like shape as he pleads for more, his hands and knees staying somewhat strong as he keeps himself up.

“f-fuck, ngh! how are you so—good at th-THIS!” he cries out, gasping like forgot how to breathe as a particularly deep thrust hits that foreign spot inside him, making his knees buckle in response.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you tease, holding him by the hips as you pick him up from his faltering position.

your pace starts to pick up, and he seems to absolutely love it, his eyes closing in bliss as he moans wantonly. how has he not done this sooner? this felt fucking amazing!

so amazing in fact, he didn’t notice how he kept babbling on how it was—

“so good! y-yes, ugh, FUCK! yeah—mommy, keep—going, m-mommy!”

shortly, his head hits the pillow as his arms give up, a loud wail escaping as you keep driving into him, making him feel like his whole world was flipping upside down. his voice was breaking, and the rasp rolling off his tongue was starting to sound a bit painful.

but it was absolutely delightful to see him fall into pieces like this. to deteriorate into a whining, begging mess for you. for him to run his voice dry just to have you to touch him.

“m-mommy! ah! gonna cum, oh fuck—! don’t stop!”he shouts, his glossy eyes opening slowly as he turns his head to the side, panting as he looks up at you.

a mess, really. he was a beautiful, desperate, mess of an angel. so lovely, he was. the thin layer of sweat reflecting the lamp in the room made him truly look heavenly, and the tears that had started to run down his cheeks seemed to make him even more divine.

the state of him was perfect, and you can’t help but take a mental picture of him in your head for later before fucking him relentlessly, your hand making its way to his cock slowly.

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

and only with a few touches, he seems to unravel instantly, a broken scream filling the room as he finishes, his fingers gripping the sheets like his life depends on it.

you let go of his hips, letting him collapse onto the bed as he shudders in brief aftershocks, panting heavily with his hair splayed wildly on the pillows.

you wrap your arms around him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he keeps whimpering for your love, your care. he’s just his needy self now, his persona gone, leaving only his affection-craving, tender self in your hands.

“thank…thank you, mommy.”

adam has always been a messy man. and although it was usually quite irritating, you don’t mind cleaning up after him this time…

he still has to do the dishes tomorrow though.

tags : @luciferspetduck @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

how the fuck do i forget to add tags to every post

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[tannieastrology]

Solar Return Observations💋❤️🌹

💋This year I have a Virgo Ascendant in my solar return along with 2 Venus returns and Ive been so much more health/beauty focused. Like I care more about myself and am trying to break bad habits that I made in 2023. Im also alot more driven in sports/goals and back when I had this in 2020 I was also into skincare and makeup alot too and was into running and working out. I feel like the year you get a virgo ascendant for your solar return is the year to cleanse bad habits that youve made in the previous year its like a chance to start new.

💋The year you have Uranus in the 11th house is most likely a year where you will lose friends but will also get the chance to make new ones. I had Uranus and North Node in my 11th house last year and my 3 year long friend who claimed we were “besties” backstabbed me and cut me off with no explanation BUT I also found a friendgroup who are here to stay and am incredibely blessed to have met them. This was a year where my view on society and people changed significantly but i feel it was for the better.

💋Last year I had Sun and Pluto in the 8th house along with Moon and Mars in the 12th. I struggled really bad with my mental health(also a Gemini Rising) and my whole personality shifted from these experiences. From January my grandma almost died of cancer, I faced unrequited love, bullying from “friends”, losing friends, and overall felt pressure from school. I was just sensitive to what people said about me and let little things bother me and now that Im looking back none of it was a big deal but I dont know in the moment it affected me way too much. It made me realize that you cant ever really put your faith in people and that you need to trust and respect yourself the most. That you cant be attached to people and your faith should be put in god (atleast thats what I think). Most of the pain came from lowself esteem and I do believe that these placements made me grow a thicker skin and to become more independant. Im a completely different person now and while I did lose my innocence to the world I feel that I can survive on my own now. I guess I just grew a backbone which im really thankful for.

💋Everything that happened last year (like growth transformation death) is all related to the 8th house which is where gemini is in my natal so also keep that in mind where your solar ascendant falls in your natal.

💋This year I have a Moon in Libra in the 1st house and a Virgo Lilith exactly conjunct my ascendant and Ive been getting so much praise from woman its weird? Weirdly guys have been liking my instagram stories and when I posted on my birthday so many people came and viewed my story who dont even follow me. I also feel more pretty and empowered this year and Ive been trying to figure out how I want to present myself more. Compared to last year I feel like I am more upfront with my feelings. I feel like this year I might not struggle as much since im a Libra Ascendant and my solar return is Virgo and almost aligns with my natal chart.

💋My sadness and pain from my 2023 solar return actually really did last until my birthday aka my 2024 return😭 So keep in note that solar returns will remain effective until your next birthday.

💋I have Pluto, Mars, Sun, Vertex, Mercury, and POF, all in the 5th house this year and Im really hoping I can finally meet someone to date for the first time but so far its manifested as being more interested in hobbies/ having fun. Im not complaining tho I actually have been so much happier and I havent cried that much at all from this new Solar Return. I will say I feel like having Pluto in the 5th house will make your view change a bit on relationships. I lost feelings for my 3 year crush and I also feel like its impossible for me to properly catch feelings now. I dont know its like I broke the cycle of infatuting crushes and am way more realistic when it comes to love. Part of it is probably just me getting older but I think thats a good thing. I dont expect love like the movies anymore but i just want something REAL.

💋The year you have 8th house Venus a old flame might come back into your life.

💋Tell me why I have Jupiter, North Node, and Chiron in the 8th house this year and ive been attracting money/all the things i want so easily? I got almost $450 for my birthday, a vanity, a lulu bag, and a big party and its only been like 2 weeks😭

💋 When I turn 18 in 2026 I have a stellium of Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, and Pluto in the 12th SOOO im predicting that I might be struggling with mental health that year, probably lost in where I want to head after high school, or Im either hiding sum secret love affair(8th house ruler of libra in 12) or like something about it is forbidden/ secretive. I also do have Moon and Jupiter in Cancer in the 5th house that year so that should be interesting lol. Let me know what aspects/ placements in your future solar returns yall find interesting and have down in the comments I wanna see.

💋A Saggitarius Ascendant/ 9th placements might mean that you get opportunity to travel

💋Having Lilith in the 2nd house might mean that you struggle with eating consistently or might struggle with self worth and body image.

💋Venus in the 4th house will be a year where you try to improve your home and find comfort in familial relationships

💋Look at transits to your solar return too theyll give you a deeper dive in whats going on you can look on astroseek.

💋12th house placements will make you inclined to find god

💋On November 16 2021 I caught feelings bad for this guy and I would go on to like him for a long time. Near that time I had a Venus Return and also a transit Solar Return with a 7th house stellium(Sun,Mars,Mercury,Moon in Libra/Scorpio). I was around this guy 24/7 and it just unexpectedly happened. Near that time Iwas having so much fun with my friends in cross country I feel so fond about those days that I could never forget.

💋 Last year having a Gemini Rising but placements like Mars and Moon in the 12th made me get talked about unknowingly behind my back so keep that in mind. Girls secretly hated me and also one of my “friends” twisted my words and spread drama about me.

💋Pay special attention to Chiron and where it is in your chart ESPECIALLY if its in retrograde

Anyways I hope yall enjoyed this was very last minute and I know people have been complaining about there not being enough Solar Return observations so here I am lol. See yall next time💋

[solavita]

hit me hard and soft — jacaerys velaryon

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words ; 3.1k

summary ; you're married to aegon, but jacaerys can't get you off of his mind.

warning(s) ; light smut, kissing, longing, angst, infidelity, marriage, pining, idfk

His eyes met yours at your very own wedding to another man. 

A mix of latency and unfamiliarity laced within them, ever shifting brown eyes reminding you of the way that a child would eye a piece of candy at a store before reaching over and grabbing it. Your eyes were ever so glued to his own as they peeked over your gauntlet, peering into a storm. You hadn’t known him well before this moment, and yet, in the flicker of unbounded torchlight that illuminated the great hall, it felt as though a secret was already shared between you, old and buried but only now coming to fruition. Those deep, brown eyes held mysteries you hadn’t known you were seeking, shifting a barely concealed hunger, as if he was seeing you for the first time but had been searching for you all his life. 

The moment stretched, the world beyond fading, as though everything was irrelevant except the silent pull of that glance. It wasn’t the glance of a lover, but of a stranger whose soul you’d brushed against in the dark before you could even begin to name it. There was something forbidden in the way he looked at you, like a sea that was tempting you to swim farther and farther into the abyss. A question lingered there, as if he knew — somehow, impossibly — that you were already his. 

Laughter and light music mingled with the heady scent of spiced Dornish wine, but it all felt distant, as though you were floating beyond the reach of the revelry. You were new to Kings Landing, only arriving two fortnights ago. You did not know these people, you didn’t know how to celebrate something that you had been pushed into like many women before you. Your newly wedded husband was somewhere across the hall, locked in meaningless conversation with lords, his attention as distant as the stars peppered across the skies of Kings Landing. And in the midst of it all, you felt him before you saw him. 

Jacaerys. 

He moved with the ease of someone who had always belonged to these haunted halls, yet there was something different tonight, like he was the star of the party, something darker in the way that he carried himself. The room seemed to fall away, the sound of clinking goblets and murmured conversations fading into a dull hum that buzzed in the background of your thoughts. 

“Congratulations,” He said softly, his low murmur meant only for you. It felt like a word laced with something far more dangerous, like he was warning you of something you knew nothing about. You had heard the rumors of your new husband, how . . . indecent he was. But he had been kind to you in the fleeting moments that you had met, though who was to know if that was all an act for his family and the lords and ladies that resided in the court. Jacaerys’ lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A grand union. I’m sure the realm will rejoice in their new princess.” 

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, the words feeling ever so heavy on your tongue. His nearness was unsettling, not in the way of discomfort, but in the way the air thickened with every moment he lingered in your space. His gaze then dipped ever so briefly, tracing the edges of your face as though committing every detail to memory. As though devouring you with his eyes. 

“It seems the gods have blessed me,” You managed, though the words felt hollow as they left your lips. 

A shadow flickered in his eyes, something unreadable, as though he hadn’t thought that you would answer with such a cookie cutter answer. He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking to almost nothing. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice even lower now, just above a whisper. “Perhaps the gods are not the only ones who could have blessed you.” 

—

It had been a few months since your wedding to Aegon, and yet it felt like a distant memory — a page in a book that you had no desire to read again. Life as a wife, his wife, had settled into a cool rhythm, your heart still restless. You played your part well, dutiful and poised, always by your side when required, but there was an emptiness that echoed through your soul, an emptiness that lingered long after the court had gone to bed. Aegon barely noticed. Or if he did, he never mentioned it. 

In the quiet moments when Aegon was preoccupied, you often found yourself drifting toward Jacaerys. Each encounter he became more of your confidant, a presence that stirred something deep within you, a sense of adventure, a longing for the unpredictable. You longed to run away with him, you realized one night as you laid awake while your husband slept beside you. You longed for the life that Jacaerys could give you, flying atop his dragon while he showed you all the wonders beyond the Narrow Sea. A mix of salt and fire that you wanted nothing more than to get caught up in. Conversations with him unfolded like the pages of a book that you couldn’t put down, each chapter revealing more of the man behind his princely demeanor, more of a man you grew to love. 

Your meetings grew bolder, clandestine glances exchanged across crowded rooms, stolen moments beneath the stars, where whispers of dreams and desires mixed together into a heady mix of shared secrets. It was wrong to love someone other than your husband, someone who you had vowed to be next to in front of the gods of the sept, you knew this. But how could something so wrong feel so right in your heart? You thought that perhaps if things had gone differently, if it had been Princess Rhaenyra who asked for your hand for her son instead of Queen Alicent, you would be truly happy like you were meant to be. You wouldn’t have to meet in seclusion, harbor feelings you desperately attempted to push down. But it was not that way. It never would be that way. 

Jacaerys never said what you both felt, but the air between the both of you was nothing platonic. His eyes would linger a little too long, his words would carry hidden meanings that made your heart race, and when your hands brushed — accidentally, or so you told yourself — you could feel the warmth of him linger long after. He was careful, however, never overstepping, always leaving you with just enough to wonder what could be if he just pushed a little further. 

Tonight, you stood on the balcony of one of the higher towers in the keep, overlooking the sea. The cool breeze tousling your hair as the moon cast silvery trails upon the water that reminded you of water lilies. The waves lapped gently against the cliffs below, a rhythm that soothed your ever restless soul. The air was cool, the scent of salt thick as it fills your lungs. You had been coming here at night often in recent weeks, seeking solace on the endless horizon, a place where you could think, a place to be away. 

You closed your eyes, allowing the wind to tug gently at your gown, the soft whisper of the sea lulling you into a rare moment of peace. But even here, even in your self inflicted silence, your thoughts drifted to him, to the conversations you’d had, the way his voice had a way of settling into your mind. 

The sound of footsteps on the stone behind you broke the stillness, and without opening your eyes, you knew exactly who it was. Jacaerys. He said nothing at first, standing just a few paces behind you. He always seemed to find you, even when you weren’t searching for him. 

“I thought I might find you here,” He said softly, his voice carried by the wind but still intimate, meant only for your ears. You opened your eyes, gazed still fixated on the sea, as if looking to it for answers for questions that you were too scared to ask out loud. 

“It’s quiet here,” You replied, your voice just as soft. “I needed the quiet. 

Jacaerys stepped closer, coming to stand beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound between you only the rhythmic crash of the waves below. Then, in that stillness, Jacaerys’ voice came again, lower now, almost tentative — 

“Do you ever wonder what might have been, if things had been different?” 

It was exactly what you didn’t want him to say. Confronting this . . . whatever it was made it all the more real. Part of you didn’t want it to be real, because then you had to face the consequences. His words hung in the air like a weight you couldn’t bear any longer. You had tried, so desperately, to keep this hidden, to tell yourself it wasn’t real, that it was a fantasy spun from the coldness of your marriage. “What good would it do?” You asked, your voice trembling, barely steady. It was a tone of anxiety that came over you, mixed with a hint of anger that he decided to break the delicate space between the two of you. “It would change nothing, Jacaerys. It wouldn’t change who I was married to, it wouldn’t change the fact that there is nothing for me but the life I have right now.” 

Jacaerys exhaled sharply, the sound heavy with frustration. “And what if it could? What if it does? We’ve been living as if we have no choice, but . . . gods, we do.” His words were filled with an ache, a desperation that mired your own. He took a step closer, and you were unable to press yourself farther away into the cold balcony stone. 

You turned to face him, finally meeting his gaze, and your heart seized at the sight of him. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, now burned with something that threatened to consume you. He wasn’t holding back anymore, no longer playing at the courtly politeness that the two of you were so used to. He was standing before you, vulnerable and exposed. You scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest before flailing them out in front of you. “Do not torment me anymore, Jacaerys,” You begged. “Please, I cannot take it anymore.” He needed to leave before you did something that you regretted, something that you couldn’t do. 

Instead, he tilted his head closer, down towards you. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell me what we have isn’t real.” 

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world around you — the sea, the wind, the very stones beneath your feet — seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you suspended in an impossible moment. His words echoed in your mind, tugging at every fragile thread that you had tried to keep intact. You had told yourself so many lies to survive this marriage. “I can’t,” You choked out, your voice breaking as tears burned at the back of your throat. “I can’t tell you that.” 

You had tried to bury this truth, to push it down beneath the weight of your duty, your vows, but now it was out in the open, raw and simply undeniable. It felt like a release and a surrender all at once, terrifying you for what was to come next. Jacaerys’ hand reached for yours and you would’ve sworn that it was a burn, his touch firm, pulling you closer into the undeniable tension you felt. “Then don’t,” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. Not here. Not now.” His hand tightened around yours, you felt as if you were standing on the end of something dangerous, a precipice you weren’t sure you could survive if you were to fall. 

But it was inevitable. You knew that you were already falling. You had been falling since that first glance, since that first conversation, and now, standing here, there was no turning back. 

“Jacaerys, I —” Your voice caught in your throat, torn between the desire to run away from this feeling or run towards it. Toward him. He took another step closer, the fabric of his shirt brushing against the bodice of your nightdress, his breath warm on your skin. His gaze never left yours, filled with a silent plea, an ache that mirrored your own. 

“Please,” He whispered, the word so soft, it nearly broke you. “I need to know. I need to know that I’m not alone in this, that what I have been thinking all these months hasn’t been for naught. Please, just tell me you feel the same as I do.” 

You felt the tears you held back slipping free, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the words. “You’re not,” You finally stuttered out, the truth spilling from you, raw and broken. “You’re not alone, Jacaerys. I’ve felt it — gods, I’ve felt it since the beginning.” 

Jacaerys’ grip on your hand tightened, his other hand rising to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His touch was so tender, so full of everything you had longed for, that it shattered the last of your resistance. You felt as though you were breaking apart and being remade all at once. “I’ve been so lost without you,” He breathed, his voice trembling as his forehead rested against yours. “I tried to stay away, I told myself it was wrong, that it is wrong, but . . . I can’t. I can’t stay away from you.” And in that moment, the distance between you vanished entirely. 

His lips found yours, soft and hesitant at first, as if he couldn’t quite believe it, as if he needed to be sure this wasn’t just another unspoken dream. But when you didn’t pull away, when your hands rose to tangle in his hair, to pull him closer still, the kiss deepened. It wasn't the gentle courtly kiss of a man seeking permission. It was a kiss full of passion and longing, full of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment you had spent denying what was always there. The wind howled around you, the sea roaring below, but it all seemed distant now. The only real thing was the feel of him, his warmth seeping into you, the taste of salt and sea on his lips. His hand cupped your face, rough, as if he feared the moment would slip away if he didn’t hold tightly enough. 

Jacaerys pulled away, earning a whine from your lips. He tried to say something and you silenced him with a kiss, shaking your head in a silent no. You pursed your lips against his and said, “No more words, no more please.” And that was all he needed, his hand on your face tilting your neck back, the other one on the small of your back. 

Jacaerys, you wanted to say. You consume me whole. 

For just a moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you made a small sound, butterflies swarming in your stomach. You tried to mimic what he was doing, going with your instincts and grasping onto his bicep, feeling the taut muscles under your touch. Everything about yours and his actions were needy and hungry, wanting each other with such need that you had pushed down for so long. All of it seemed to come out of you like crashing waves. The kissing was nice, though after a while you needed more, you were dying for more of him. Please, Jacaerys, you thought.

As if he could read your thoughts, he pulled away, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you two. “What do you want?” He whispered, tilting his head to the side and giving you one of those damn smiles of his. Of course he wanted you to say it. And you knew better than to not do what he wanted. 

“You, Jacaerys, I want you,” You whispered to him, as if someone was going to hear if you talked too loud. “Please.” You thought that you probably sounded like someone desperate, and in a way you were, you had waited for this forever and had convinced yourself that it would never happen. But he thought the exact opposite, he marveled in the way that you looked at him, wanting to show you how much you truly meant to him. The attraction and lust was there, intermingled with something more that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

He didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted, slowly inching you towards the rocky wall behind you, the coolness of the tile making your skin prick up. Jacaerys pressed his body against yours in a swift moment and connected his lips onto the skin right below your jaw. His lips were soft like snowflakes falling onto your skin, creating a masterpiece on your skin like you were his canvas. It all felt too good, the heightening the sensations to an almost unbearable amount. It sent shockwaves to your core, igniting a feeling you often only felt during the late hours of the night.

Seeing how well your body responded to him, it was driving him crazy. You were so willing, so ready for him that his mind became cloudy, the only thing he could make out was his thoughts of you. His lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck, paying extra attention to the places that made you breathe out more than the others. He pressed a searing kiss to your pulse point, his teeth grazing the nerve and using his lips to suck a deep, purple mark into your skin. And then, when he felt it was the right time, he did it again and again, properly marking you as his. He didn’t care anymore. Your hands found their respective place in his hair, feeling the softness of the dark brunette tufts between your fingers. It was so damn soft that you wondered how you had resisted the urge for so long before. 

There was simply no way that he would be able to conceal his want for you from you anymore. You waited for his next move, knowing that it would probably be one you didn’t want to hear. But for the second time this evening, Jacaerys surprised you again.

He leaned over and kissed you. 

And you knew his answer from that.