#How To Manifest Ex Boyfriend Back

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears

his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.

aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.

"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.

"ugh, fuck���" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.

aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.

he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.

your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.

the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax

before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.

the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.

with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.

you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.

after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.

"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.

the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.

a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.

you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.

you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.

the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you

he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.

sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.

his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.

what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.

he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.

"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.

sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth

your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.

boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.

a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.

your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.

alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.

boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[peachsukii]

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

✮ tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

[afterglowsainz]

obsessed | oscar piastri

summary: in which oscar, your boyfriend, is obsessed with franco, your ex

pairing: reader x oscar piastri, reader x ex!franco colapinto

fc: kaia gerber

a/n: overdone concept with a little twist😋

—

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe and others

yourusername date night🍷

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oscarpiastri 😮‍💨

yourusername 🥰

liked by kimi.antonelli, juanmanuel and others

francolapinto break well spent 🇦🇷 now back to the office

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liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri between races 🇦🇺

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username WHAT 😭

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liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername dinner is served

tagged francisca.cgomes

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francisca.cgomes are you the dinner? 🥵

yourusername kika you’re making me blush 🤭

pierregasly 🤨

username every time i think y/n can’t get any prettier …

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liked by yourusername, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri back at the office 🇲🇨

view all comments

username ain’t no way

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username pls not oscar shamelessly copying franco’s caption 😭

username to be fair it’s a pretty common caption

username manifesting a podium this weekend 🕯

username oscar x senna’s livery 🥹

yourusername 💛💚

oscarpiastri ❤️

username y/n and oscar flirting in that nonchalant way of theirs 🥰

liked by flavy.barla, francolapinto and others

yourusername saw this banner omw to the casino

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username omg y/n’s attending the grand prix!!!

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username and franco’s driving there this weekend too

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username i meaaan since she’s already there 🤷🏽‍♀️

landonorris how much money did you lose?

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liked by oscarpiastri, olliebearman and others

yourusername bebiendo mucha champaña🍾

tagged oscarpiastri

view all comments

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username the most beautiful couple

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yourusername 😭

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username she was so cute looking at him at the podium and oscar was so happy smiling at her the whole time 😭

oscarpiastri 💛💛💛

yourusername so proud of you!🧡

liked by olliebearman, lettiemg and others

francolapinto happy mother’s day💙

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username awww he was so cute as a baby

username happy day to my mother-in-law!

username i’m sorry oscar but hello franco 🥰

username the cutest fr

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username lovely!

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and others

oscarpiastri tbt

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username what is happening 😭

username right after franco’s post too?

username franco’s was a mother’s day post…

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charles_leclerc i see red has always been your color

mclaren never! 🧡

username the cutest baby🥰

yourusername oscar pls 😭😭

oscarpiastri 🤭

username franco is stronger than me fr

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and others

yourusername my boyfriend and his head full of original thoughts🧡

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

landonorris your boyfriend the attention whore*

oscarpiastri hey!

username no way she wrote that caption 😭

username she knows!!

francisca.cgomes time to get a new hobbie😁

yourusername on it!

logansargeant a few jokes here and there never hurt nobody 🤭

yourusername 😑

francolapinto a machine on track too

oscarpiastri thanks mate👊🏽

username oh!

[dollerines]

How I entered the void so easily after 1 year of trying

So after 1 year and half of trying to enter I finally did it and I am so mad because it REALLY IS SOOOOO EASY and tbh if in this post you are looking for any sort of validation or info you smart ass already know then please REMEMBER THIS : entering the void is extremely easy. You just have to do it in a way that resonates with you.

Personally for me since I had adhd I couldn’t just stay still and affirm for 1 or even a few for 10 mins. Not just because I was lazy but because just repeating “I am in the void” for so long gets me tired and makes me think of the void more and you actually don’t want to think too deeep about it. I couldn’t wake 3 hours prior and then affirm or even have the patience to do the psych k, yes I was extremely lazy back then and unpresistent but one thing that helped me even backed then was THE ALPHA STATE MEDITATION !

You just have to find what works for you, find a method technique whatever you want to do that doesn’t seem like a chore. So In a post back then I found on @gorgeouslypink acc talking about doing the alpha sate meditation and I tried it back then and I felt really relaxed and it was a good feeling but like I said back then I was realllly lazy so after a few mins I stopped. Then many months later passed and I was still looking for anything and everything on the void. Then just like two days ago I came across another post which was pretty simple and the technique I used was called the DISTRACTED TECHNIQUE.

All there was to do was the usual you get into a comfortable position and then she said to use the alpha state meditation and used the one gorgeouslypink recommended. So I used it and then what she tell you to do is to just think of anything else just get distracted basically and this WAS SO GOOD 4 ME because back then I had adhd so it made it harder to concentrate on just affirming and so yeah I just thought of random things and then at some point where I was completely distracted I felt my body like lift up 😭 if that makes sense I just can’t clearly describe it. It felt really like a shift and I was like ‘panicking’ in a way but I wasn’t actually panicking I just kinda became aware what was going and then I got scared a little but I just relaxed shortly after. Also my fan that was making like a loud noises was coming in an out and then I only hear it in one ear and then I didn’t hear anything and I just stayed there wondering if I reached the void and i actually was!!! I didn’t feel my body it felt like I had no body at all and it was pitch black just like how I imagined the void to be. For a few minutes I just stayed there feeling the most surreal peace I have ever felt. I needed that peace fr 💀.

So then I affirmed for my desires all I said was “I have all my desired results from my subliminal playlist.” Then just to be extra sure I just said “I have everything I want.”

At that point I got really excited and then I wiggled my toes to get out because I was too dam happy I needed to see all my shit the moment I wake up and then I slowly started getting out and when I tell you I cried for like a good dam minute when I woke up and saw how DIFFERENT. My room looked. I literally screamed onto my pillow. I was so dam scare and yet excited to see how I looked.

WHAT I MANIFESTED :

Desired body and face

Having silky straight tailbone length hair cuz mines was originally curly

And everything in my sub playlist

My desired boyfriend and guys I made him be like Gojo Satoru ( because we are all delusional over him 🤪) and let me tell you he is so tall, handsome, sexy and a literal god. He is so silly too 🩷

Moving countries I now live in ny

Never actually meeting my ex and all the people in my old school forget me and have actually never even met me. Like if u asked them about me they have never heard or known me before

Extremely rich rich like hella bands

Got rid of my anxiety and mental health issue

Plus +++

NEVER EVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS.

Even if the circumstances seem to be eating you alive don’t mind that too much. Even if all seems hopeless don’t give up because you already know nothing can decide or be unless you give it power to be. So stop being goofy and take responsibility and DONT STRESS!! You don’t see God stressing do you. All he has to do is blink and whatever he wants to happen, happens. Plus a lot of confidence came from non dualism that I owe a huge thanks to @trynafindbarbiee she really said it like it is !!

YOU GOT THIS ML 🩷🩷🩷🩷

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep up with that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t ya?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used the honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just waiting for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

[zyafics]

HIII!!! I love ur writing sm <3 If you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do one about a reporter reader who used to date Rafe but they broke up and now she has to interview him??? Set in college if possible! Thank you so much! I hope you're having a good day 🥰

hi baby! yes, i do take requests and i absolutely love this one 🥰 i made reader work for a network company but she's still in college and he plays basketball! (but fair warning, i know absolutely nothing about basketball so if i got the terminologies wrong, look away!!) i hope you enjoy <3 this is angsty as fuck

ALL FOR THE GAME | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot) | College Basketball Player x Ex!Reporter!Female Reader .ᐟ

Content — college au, athlete/reporter, prior breakup, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort

Word Count — 4.2K

You couldn't believe it.

It's considered lucky. For someone in your position—having received this entry-level job a couple of weeks ago—to have the opportunity to interview an athlete. In fact, many people would call it a great honor.

And it is. Under normal circumstances, you would be more than happy to oblige—elated, even—because people at this stage in your career rarely get such an opening. Especially since you're in college, fully prepared for this internship to be nothing more than grunt work.

Yet, this? This would allow you to advance your career at an expedited rate only offered to nepotism. You should be thrilled, overcome with joy, jumping at your feet and thanking whatever deity you believed in for such a chance.

But you don't.

Because the person to interview is Rafe.

Rafe Cameron, the top prospect of the NBA draft picks.

Rafe Cameron, your ex-boyfriend.

Your boss waits for an answer. He proposed the question a few moments ago, about covering the press conference for the last game of the season. Because of a sick reporter who called out at the last minute, your objective is to build a profile on Rafe Cameron. Since he's the leading prospect, with scouts all over the country looking at him, many people want to know more about the rising all-star who's done nothing but dominate the court.

This proposal, however, was done more out of common courtesy. No one would be stupid enough to say no, and when your boss raises a brow, signifying his manifesting annoyance from your silence and lack of celebratory cheers—you stammer.

"Um, um," you say.

"Um, what?" He prompts. "Will you be doing it or not?"

You shouldn't. There are many reasons why you shouldn't attend Rafe's basketball games. There's resentment because when you step back into that arena, back onto that court, you're reminded of how Rafe picked it over you. There's lingering sadness, residing heavily against the back of your heart, dulled from the passage of time, but not completely forgotten. And lastly, there's anger, because sometimes, all you want to do is scream, cry, and yell at the man who shattered your heart into a billion different pieces.

But that doesn't matter, does it?

Romance has no place in a reporter's life because you're nothing more but a projection for the audience, a vessel for the readers to learn about something else. You don't have feelings; you're a prop. And, certainly, it doesn't matter to your boss, who's only asking you because you're the last choice.

"Well?"

Seconds away from retracting the offer, something in your chest tightens. Logically, you know the choice to make. But your heart doesn't agree. It still hurts, aches, and burns at all of the past memories. It wants nothing more than to bury itself in a hole and pretend that such a critical part of your history does not exist.

But you can't. Life only moves forward. So, all you do is move with it.

"I'll do it."

By the time you arrive at the stadium, all you want to do is run. Anxiety pricks at your spine and your palms grow clammy by your side. Everything inside you is blaring like a warning, cautioning that this is a mistake, that you aren't ready, and that you should turn back.

Despite the badge dangling around your neck, you almost listen. Put your career on hold for a man who hasn't given a single thought about you since the breakup. You can't let him win, and with that reminder, you move with the mob, flocking to their seats.

The atmosphere is charged with exhilaration, and you're reminded of everything before. It's automatic. How easy it is for you to return to old patterns, to follow them, and to find yourself trickling down the steps and towards the courtside seats reserved for family and friends of the team.

Until a hand is placed on your lower back, and a security guard guides you to the press box instead.

It's quieter. The enclosure of the room dulls the energy of the crowd, with a thick sheet of glass separating you from the rest of the people, and reminding you of your purpose.

You take a seat on a cushioned chair, reserved for your network, and look around the place. You're among the most seasoned reporters in their field, chatting with one another, familiarity engulfing the air that somewhat alienates you. They pay you little mind—saved for a curious-yet-judgmental glance at how you wore a jersey compared to their formal suits and pencil skirts. When you follow their line of vision, you realize it wasn't an ordinary merch of the UNC team but Rafe's.

"Fuck," you mumble. You hadn't realized you picked out his jersey; it was left in the back of your closet and you couldn't see yourself attending your college's game without a visual form of support. This probably appears to the rest of the journalists that you're nothing more than a superfan who managed to weasel their way into their network.

It makes your stomach flips with nausea. You want to separate Rafe from you as much as possible, and with a quick run to the bathroom, you change out of the merch and throw it over your tote, straightening out your blouse underneath. When you return, the players are slowly filling out to court.

The visitors' team enters first; UNC follows. You count each player that exits the locker room, watching their expressions as they grin and absorb the energy of their home stadium, as they walk down the length of the bench, as they talk among themselves and share playful jests and banter. You didn't even know you were holding your breath until Rafe stepped out last, to the loudest cheer of the crowd, with a solemn look on his face.

You watch as Rafe searches the stands. Not in the same manner as his teammates, where they're acknowledging fans, or sending flirtatious winks to pretty girls sitting front row. It's different— with purpose. He's searching for something—someone—and your heart clenches in your chest at the thought of Rafe having found your replacement.

But it's been months, hasn't it? It should be more than fair game for him to date whatever he wants. You can still act professionally with this developing news, but it's striking down at your armor.

However, whoever he's looking for, he doesn't find. Rafe goes to huddle with the rest of his team as their Coach gives a final motivational speech before releasing them.

The game starts with a tip-off, and once the referee throws the ball in the air, Rafe takes it into his possession.

He sprints across the court, slicing through the opponent players, and scoring points on the board. Rafe is powerful, knowing exactly when to exchange his hands and pass to his teammates, where exactly to cut through, and when to commit to a play. Commentary heard from the built-in speakers can attest to it, as their primary focus is on how Rafe is taking the last game of the season by storm.

But, while everyone's eyes are glued to the game, as much as you try not to, you can't do anything but stare at Rafe.

He's just as incredible as he was when you were dating him; if not, more. In some way, it makes your heart tighten, knowing that this validates his reason for the breakup. You just wish he felt some semblance of the pain you feel. But as much as you hate it, you're also proud. Rafe has come so far, and trained so hard, to make it to where he is. If he secures a win for the last game, it will be nothing but a guaranteed track to the NBA and luxuries and fame ahead.

All without you.

By the time the game ended, Rafe scored the last shot in a close game, delivering the end of the conference with a secured UNC victory. Everyone in the press box stands from their seats, heading to the media room where they'll be meeting a panel of UNC athletes for questions.

Yet, you linger. You step up to the glass, watching as the erupted cheers of the audience surround the entire stadium, much to the glee of the UNC team, while Rafe stands in the middle of the court for a few seconds, soaking everything in. His eyes pan across the bleachers again, in search for something, before his expression falls and he retreats to the locker room.

When you enter the room of journalists, you slip into a seat. It'll be a while before the players come shuffling in, and you take each second to rehearse and calm your nerves. In one hand, is a tape recorder, while the other is a notepad of the written questions you plan to ask.

UNC's Publicist steps out first to provide an official statement and give a brief overview of the conduct of this press conference. She'll be the moderator, giving everyone enough time to ask all of their questions, and she'll be selecting the networks to her own accord. After everyone comes to the general consensus, the door opens and the Coach steps out with his players.

You watch with bated breath as Rafe is the last to enter, freshly showered and changed into grey sweatpants with a matching UNC zip-up jacket. His headphones dangles around his neck, while his expression exudes nothing but boredom and reluctance. Rafe has always hated interviews, especially post-games, during your relationship. At least that's the one thing that hasn't changed.

You drop your gaze to your lap, swallowing hard as you calm your racing heartbeat. It's been months, yet you still feel the same emotions coursing through you as if no time has passed—longing, hurt, sadness. You whisper positive affirmations, reminding yourself that it's just a job, and that'll be short and simple. You won't even have to speak to Rafe, because your boss may have said to find out more about Rafe Cameron for your profile, nowhere did he say you have to ask him specifically.

When Rafe sits on his chair, he lazily scans the room, a habit of his to pass the time, before he spots you among the crowd. In the third row, second seat; your favorite choice to sit. You don't see it, but a corner smile lifts to his face, demeanor changing, and he straightens up in his seat.

Throughout the conference, the publicist hands the microphone off to whoever she selects. They often direct their questions at Rafe, to which he gives monosyllabic and deadpanned answers. Then, when they try to seek more clarification, Rafe gives them nothing, much to their grimness.

You keep your head low, writing down notes, and drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Anything to avoid making accidental eye contact with Rafe. But, regardless, you feel him. The heat of his stare remains on you the entire time, especially when the publicist approach you and hands you the microphone.

It’s time.

With trembling hands, you stand from your seat. You turn your attention to the front of the panel, introducing yourself, your network, and your job. Smiles spread across Rafe's teammates as they recognize you, and you offer a polite one of your own.

Beginning at the furthest player at the end of the table, you ask, "How would you describe Mr. Cameron as a teammate?"

He grins as if he was prepared for this. "Rafe's an incredible teammate and captain. He's a capable leader, who's strong on the court, but also strong on having his teammates' back. You saw it back there—" That earns a small laugh from the reporters. "But, yeah. Rafe's one of my favorite teammates, if I'm being honest."

You tilt your head at that conclusion, because, if you remember correctly, in freshman year, he often rivaled with Rafe and got into fights over minor things. Regardless, you nod, thanking him for his response, and moving on to the next player with the next question.

"What do you think about Mr. Cameron's plays throughout the season?"

"Is that all you got for me, Mrs?" The second player teases playfully, causing heat to warm your cheeks. "Whatever, I got this. Well, let me think. Rafe's always had solid stats. He's one of the hardest-working players on and off the court, and he always keeps his head focused. Even when he had a bit of a bump a couple of months back, he adjusted his plays and bounced back. That’s his resilience."

Your breath hitches at the implication. You try your hardest not to sneak a glance at Rafe, but you can't help yourself. Turning to your side, you discover Rafe watching you, his expression grimacing at the confession of his teammate.

Months ago. The only thing that changed was your breakup. Does this mean he was as affected as you were?

You try not to think too much about that. Thanking the player again, you move to the next, asking more about Rafe's character—his prospects for the NBA, and his experience managing a student-athlete. You didn't ask just about Rafe, you asked about the games and conferences too, but most of the players always return their answers to Rafe. Positively. As if they had this unspoken agreement behind the scenes to hype Rafe up to his ex-girlfriend.

Time goes on, and you start to immerse yourself in the role. It wasn't as difficult as you expected, especially because you're entertaining a team who've known you all throughout their collegiate career. They answered the questions with enthusiasm and a playfulness that can only be recognized by years of familiarity. You can feel the energy from the reporters shift, stewed with envy, because of how the players are showing favoritism to a novice reporter who barely has her foot in the door.

Rafe watches you the entire time. How truly riveting you are in your role. How you command the room with your questions, how you captivate the players, and how you grow more comfortable as you talk to your teammates. He waits patiently as you make your way down the table, for his chance to talk to you.

But just as he's about to be next, you return the microphone to the moderator. You were going to leave him hanging. Before you can fully hand off the mic, a voice commands the room.

"What about me?"

It was Rafe. You lift your head to find him leaning against his own microphone propped on the table, his blue eyes pinned on you, his expression full of want. Your lips part, but no words fall through. The publicist doesn't take back the microphone.

You stammer. "What about you?"

"Don't you have any questions for me?" He questions, as the crowd murmurs with surprise. On any other day, Rafe would've gladly taken the lack of questions aimed at his face. You've done your research; you've seen his previous interviews.

"I..." You can't seem to answer him. All eyes—from the Coach, to the players (who are smiling their head off), to the reporters—turn to you. "I've asked all my questions."

"I'm sure you can think of one more," he declares, his eyes not once straying from your face. As if he's taking the time to memorize all of your features, to absorb any changes. "Come on, hit me."

Everyone waits. Eagerly. With jealousy. The media room stills with a palpable silence, and you can't do anything but retract your arm, holding the microphone back up to your lips.

You blink, racking your brain for any questions. You truly did ask all of them, and there's nothing appropriate enough to ask in front of a room full of people who are recording and monitoring your moves. So, you settle on something safe.

"How did you feel scoring that winning shot?"

Rafe takes a deliberate moment to consider his answer. His silence tells it all. Before he leans down against the mic, his lips centimeters from the pop filter, and he says, "Empty."

Flashes of the camera go off, and hushed whispers are heard throughout the room. But none of that matters to you. Your eyes remain on Rafe, your heart skipping beats from his confession, and you tame enough of your voice before asking a follow-up. "Can you explain why?"

He nods. "Basketball is great and all, and I'm grateful for everything that has happened, and all I have accomplished. Hell, I'm even grateful for this team right here that's been such a hardass on me since day one," he gestures to his teammates on the panel, and they all grin and laugh. One even blows him a kiss. "But, at the end of the day, it's just a game. Without the people you love by your side, it's meaningless."

You truly feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs and tears crowd your waterline. When his words finally deliver through, it's almost a straight shot to your chest. This was the admission you'd been waiting for, but it didn't feel satisfactory whatsoever. It's painful, all of the old wounds opening by their stitches, and grief comes crawling up your throat, demanding to be felt.

You don't answer him. You can't. Rafe watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if his words had any impact, but you hide them well. For now. With tears stinging your vision, and seconds from unraveling at the seams, you drop the microphone onto the chair and leave the room in a rush.

That's when he realizes he fucked up.

Rafe stands from his seat, ready to follow after you, but his Coach commands him to sit down. His gaze remains on you until you exit the room, but with direct orders, he can do nothing but slump back into his chair.

When Rafe finishes the rest of his interviews, with more reluctance than he had before, he wants nothing more than to go back to campus to search for you. But he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Clearing out, Rafe steps out of the doors.

To where you were waiting.

"You had no right," you snap, as Rafe heads to the exit of the stadium. He whips around at the sound of your voice, finding you leaning against the wall. As much as he knows he fucked up, he can't explain the happiness he feels at seeing you still here.

"For what?" Rafe prompts with an easygoing smile, "Talking? I'm pretty sure that's what the press conference is about."

But you don't take it so easy.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," you huff, "You used my words against me."

During the breakup, Rafe had said something along the lines of focusing on his basketball career. You had rebutted that basketball can't be the one thing in his life. At the time, he disagreed, prompting the necessity of the breakup further. It had hurt to hear your words twisted and used against you.

"It was friendly," he reassures. "Just like the rest of my teammates. Talking like we're friends."

"We're not friends and you know that."

He frowns. "We said we would be."

"No, you said that," you hiss, clenching your hands by your side, memories slapping you and prickling your skin. "To rid yourself of the guilt, or to make it seem like permanent. I don't know. But it doesn't work that way with me, Rafe. We aren't friends."

His brows pinch together, and agitation flares through his hard features. "So, that's what it's gonna be like? You come to my games and you interview my entire team but you ignore me because we broke up? That's unprofessional."

You falter. "That's not fair."

"It isn't?" He challenges, stepping closer into your space. "How do you think I felt when you were interviewing every single one of my teammates about me, but refusing to talk to me? To look at me? What does that suggest?"

"That I got everything I needed from your teammates."

"You could've gotten it directly from the source."

"I didn't need to,"

"You could've,"

"Why are you so adamant about me talking to you?"

"Because you're acting like a vindictive bitch."

You stagger back as if he struck you, and Rafe instantly regretted the words that left his mouth. But he can't take them back. Your lips part, and you stare at him in disbelief, but you come up with nothing to defend yourself.

With the hardest glare you can muster, you proclaim, "Fuck you, Rafe."

And you turn to leave.

Rafe quickly follows after you. "Wait—that's not—I didn't mean that."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Just like you didn't want to talk to me in the conference room?"

"You broke up with me!" You snap, stopping in your tracks with such abruptness, that Rafe almost ran into you. Turning back around to face him, you say, "You were the love of my life, and you left me, and you expect me to keep it professional?"

Rafe says nothing.

"I'm trying," you croak, tears crowding your vision again, and you hate how vulnerable and pathetic you feel in his presence. Like it was back to that night in the car, where Rafe said it was over. "I'm trying to do this right."

Rafe watches your face with anguish, but he can't say anything. You're trying hard to keep your composure, and regain some semblance of stability, you say with a even voice, "I'm glad everything is working out the way you want it to. I'm glad you get this bigshot career and you're about to make it in the NBA, and I'm glad you found it so easy to move on but that's not how it worked with me." Your voice cracks. "I loved you. I can't just forget about it like it's nothing."

His voice is small when he answers. "I didn't."

"You didn't?" You repeat with disbelief. "Rafe, you're thriving. You barely look like our breakup had any impact on you. You're about to secure one of the biggest deals in NBA history. What else could you possibly be missing?"

"You."

His dark eyes connect with yours in utmost vulnerability and it cripples you. All your aggression and anger, all your pent-up frustration—it makes you upset that Rafe manage to disarm you with one word.

"No," you step back, shaking your head, "You can't do that."

"It's the truth."

"It's too late."

Rafe looks pained at your declaration. "Don't say that."

"Don't say what?" You sniffle, your vision blurring with hot tears. "My truth? Did you expect me to wait around for you to come to your senses? To beg for you to take me back?"

"I didn't..." Rafe stammers, searching your face for any indication that it isn't too late. That he still had a chance. But he doesn't find any. "I was honest back there. Any win without you feels empty."

"Stop,"

"I made a mistake."

"Rafe—" You shake your head again, sucking in a deep breath, and needing him to listen and step back. "I'm not here to talk about that. I don't want to talk about that."

"But I do,"

"But I don't," you declare firmly. "I just... I need you to understand. You can't do that. I'm trying to move on with my life. And I understand that we're going to be seeing each other, no matter how I don't want to. But I'll get used to it. I'll numb that pain. But you can't do that. Here; back there. It wasn't fair to me."

Your words sound too permanent. Too real. Rafe can't stand it.

With desperation, he pleads, "Can we talk?"

"We're already talking."

"No, I'm talking about us," Rafe says, taking a step forward. Only for you to take one back. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about it."

"There's so much to say."

"Name one."

"I miss you."

"Rafe," you cry, tears streaming down your face that you can no longer contain. He hates seeing you cry. He hates it more to be the reason. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over, to soothe the pain, but it looks as if it would hurt worse if he tried to touch you. "Please stop. You're breaking my heart again."

He made a mistake. There are so many times he can say that. When he saw you in the media room, for the first time in months, it came rushing back to what he's missing. How much he's losing you. He wanted to ask you so much—about how you're doing, to learn how you got the job, to uncover more about how close you are to achieving your dreams.

But he was barricaded. By responsibilities, obligations, and duties. He couldn't ask you in a room full of people. He couldn't help you when his father pressured him to break up with you for his career. He couldn't do anything, then. But he wants to do better now.

He says your name, so defeated, in a last-ditch effort. But you shake your head.

You need to leave this place with whatever is left of your pride and dignity. So, you straighten your spine, take out his jersey from your tote, and hand him the last remnant of your relationship. "Congratulations on your win, Mr. Cameron. I wish you the best in your career."

And when you turn to leave this time, he doesn't stop you.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[lovebvni]

mindset of manifestation & how i manifest

like melanie martínez, i am back from the dead.

i apologize for being gone so long, but i needed a break from tumblr. i saw toxicity swirling in the community, my life got busy, and i decided it was just time for a break. when i was planking to come back, i just saw how things got terrible and i got upset and decided not to come back.

so, im back now and with a little tutorial on how i manifest!!! <3 i hope this can help some of you out.

let’s start with background.

manifesting is kind of like predicting the future. you have something you want to happen, then it happens soon after. i feel like this is the easiest way to get into the manifestation mindset. you cannot change what you’re getting if you want it. could you change your mind later and return it like a package? yes! but before it arrives, you know it’s arrival is coming.

sure, there can be delays, but it all is going to turn out YOUR way in the end.

nile and i have been working on our mindset and this is something they wrote that i think can be really helpful — as it was to me.

from the past two years we have been actively manifesting, we learned that we often saw things as “crazy”. but manifesting isn’t crazy, it’s quite normal.

every time you get dressed in the morning, it’s an act of manifestation. you’re showing up with what you want.

manifestation is a mondane activity!! stop treating it like it was a kiss from an angel!

by reading this, you’re manifesting your eyes working, you’ve used your hands to open an app, and you have believed you can read and get through this blog! without manifesting that, you would not be here.

the first step to manifestation is believing you can do it, believing you have done it, and believing you will continue to do it. period.

there are many MANY different ways to manifest, but i manifest in 3 ways (sometimes i use all three, sometimes i use just 1 or 2.)

!! I ALMOSR FORGOT TO PUT THIS AND IM ADDING IT BEFORE I GET TO NUMBER 2 OMG!!

STOP! BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE I WANT YOU TO GET A NOTEBOOK, A SHEET OF PAPER, OR MAKE A CHECKLIST ON YOUR PHONE IN YOUR NOTES APP!!!

now i want you to write down everything you want right now down and leave the boxes blank if you haven’t gotten them yet.

once you get through that, i want you to randomly click between some of the items you want and write down things you wanted that you did get! they can be some simple and things from years ago, what matters is you have them down. throw in some things that you may have to do for school or work while you’re at it.

here’s an example! (left is before checking off, right is after)

as you can see, i added a note to the side because i got what i wanted and more abundantly! i had been manifesting a dog since i was a young child, and in 2021, i got 2!!!! (one is laying at my feet right now <3)

continue to do this daily, weekly, or whatever you have time for. i personally do this on notion and i try to add something new daily (im adding the heartstopper thing rn!!)

but yeah!! write everything u want down, and continue to add to it, just so u can see progress DOES happen and your work and effort DOES pay off!

affirming and persisting

this id the first way i learned to manifest, and the most self-explanatory.

you simply repeat what you want over and over until you get it! but not in the future tense, in the current or past tense.

ex; “i passed my maths final!”, “im so happy my boyfriend gave me those roses for valentine’s day, he’s so sweet!”, “i finished the essay for english like a week before it was due!” “i got the lead role in my play! im so excited!” etc.

now, the common factor between all of these is having a positive mindset about them. i cannot tell you HOW many times i manifested something would go well, and right before they happened, i got in a shitty mind space and wondered if it would ever happen.

but, nonetheless, i persisted through and i got what i wanted.

the pain have have been feeling cant compare to the joy that is coming. Romans 8:18

persisting is basically pushing through. think about the time you didn’t think you would make it through an injury, a school year, a trial, yet you still walked through it — even if it was slow.

like when work days are long and you want to go home, but you can’t, so you persist.

i try to think of my manifestations as an ultimatum. it’s going to happen, and that’s final. the only thing you have to do to get it is stay conscious.

and staying conscious, walking through those days, is how you get to the end!

i use affirming and persisting with pretty much everything, which is why it was first.

2. listening to subs.

it’s that simple — listen to an audible subliminal that has the results you want over and over!! that’s all i do u guys. here’s my playlist if u want it (IF I DELETE IT CHECK MY PINNED POST!! I UPDATE IT OFTEN)

i often use @stilljuststardust’s subs, slade’s subs, enchanted workshops’ subs and i want it, i got it’s subs!

all of them are trusted and credible. i cannot promise you that all the subs in my playlist will work for you, as they are (sometimes) linked to my personal desires.

3. pinterest manifestation!!

i recommend having either a whole pinterest account or a board set aside for this way of manifestation.

you simply make boards (or sections) for things you want. i would say this is best for physical items, people, looks, makeup, etc. things that re physically tangible, rather than something like reality shifting (although i do have a reality shifting board! it has been working pretty well <3)

i also have one for my mindset, my religion, so on and so forth (link btw)

i think this is pretty self explanatory. just save picture of things you want and quotes/affirmations and DONE!

i also use this sub with it :p it’s worked WONDERSSS!

if you have any other questions i will be happy to answer them!! i love you all!! go manifest!!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene II: he kinda looks like my ex boyfriend | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, generally gross!daemon, harwin 'big daddy' strong, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: Following the events of our mighty poll 😁😁😁😁 im excited to say what won was was always my intention and im glad you lovely readers have synced with me on it BWHWAHA sorrows sorrows prayers

"Fucking Seven," I sigh and gather my thick skirts, running up to the blue haired girl. The servant who escorted her promptly curtsies then walks away. I release the fabrics to grasp her face. I sigh in relief, "thank the gods you're here, Libby."

"What the fuck are you wearing?" she asks groggily, eyeing my dress.

I shake my head, "fuck, shit, I mean Lilibet."

"And how did you braid your hai-" Libby speaks the same time as me before freezing and raising a finger, "fuck you."

I growl and grab her hand, "no, no, no. Listen to me," I push her hand down, "you remember running through that damned arch?"

Libby wrangles out of my clutch and rather exasperatedly glares at me, "what?"

I release a shudder then grab her face again, "listen to me, Libby!" I sigh, "remember that stupid urban legend?"

Libby's face contorts as she groans. She pushes my hands off her à la 5-year-old tantrum; her blue hair, in turn, flies to her face.

"We crossed that arch," I grab her arms, "and now we're in fucking first century Westeros, Libby," I hiss, pulling her to the bed, "which is why I have to call you Lilibet-"

"Fuck you."

"-and you have to change and cover your hair," I release her to grab the clothing on the sheets, shoving them into her chest.

"What ABOUT my hair!"

I shake my head, "it's a dead giveaw-"

"You're closer to dead. You look like a fucking grandma and you have problems with my hair?!" Libby throws the clothes back on the bed, "listen, I know I got wasted and shit, and I'm sorry, but if you want me to cosplay as a peasant, just say that and get me coffee, please-"

"LIBBY!"

Libby's ear's ring, "bitch, the fu-"

"THERE IS NO COFFEE!" I grab her arms and shake her, "we're being held hostage by Daemon Targaryen and this hair," I manically point to my head, "is our fucking lifeline!"

Libby's face pinches, the initial grogginess in her expression is expelled, "Ok, calm your tits, YN-wannabe. I told you reading fics of him would fuck with your head. Imagine reading fics about King fucking Charles-"

"IT'S NOT THE SAME!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT THE SAME?! IT'S FUCKING WORS-"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, LIBBY!"

"HE'S THE COLONIZER OF COLONIZERS!"

"IT'S NOT A FANFIC!" I pinch my fingers together, "THIS IS NOT A FANFIC! I AM telling you we fucking crossed that arch and now we're FUCKING-"

My words cease when a creaking sound of the heavy door fills the room. The both of us turn to the door as it opens. My heart begin to race.

Lo and behold, Daemon Targaryen walks in, one hand on his hilt, eyes looking us both up and down. Libby shifts in her spot as Daemon approaches. Her demeanor immediately changes when she sees him. She straightens up and pushes her hair back, dusting off her hot pink top. Aint no way.

"Do I look good?" Libby mutters to me before Daemon is in front of us. My eyes blow wide and my jaw slacks. Be so fucking for real. She fixes her radioactive blue hair and my upper lip curls in disgust and annoyance.

Libby and Daemon lock gazes; the former smirks, "hey, cutie pie."

I slap my hand to my face. The sound reverberates in the room.

"What is a cutie pie?" Daemon asks stoically.

Libby leans on one leg, "you."

"Seven fucking hells," I quip, roughly dragging my palm down my skin.

Daemon turns to me before tilting his head. He mirrors Libby's stance and his lips faintly curve upward, "in this era, girl, pies are food. What would I have in common with a type of pie?"

Libby lets out an airy chuckle, "you ren fair boys really like roleplay, huh?"

Daemon raises a brow, "I assure you, nothing about me is boyish."

Libby bites her lip and claws the air, "rawr."

I am unable to mask the sound I make. Daemon pulls his head back at Libby's actions.

I grit my teeth and grab her arm; she shakes me off, making sure to giggle as she does this. Daemon chuckles as he turns to me, "I see why you are keen on keeping her."

"You can keep me if you like," she blurts, stepping in front of me to garner his attention. Daemon steps back.

I grab Libby's arm again. This time, with much force that the ends of my hair whip around. I whisper-yell, "you do know that is Daemon Targaryen, right?"

Libby barely turns to me as she mutters, "what?"

"You're flirting with the Daemon Targaryen," I sneer, "first of his name," I lean in and whisper, "manwhore."

Libby looks at me from over her shoulder to me then back to Daemon, "ahhhh. A cosplayer."

"Libby, I swear to g-"

"It's pretty good," she crosses her arms then points, "is that a wig or hair dye?"

Daemon furrows his brows, face contorting at her words.

My eyes widen and suddenly the silver hair on my scalp itches like it doesn't belong to me. Well, see-- it doesn't! Not in a way that counts to the incestuous gremlin!

From the way his composure tightens, I could tell he was no longer amused. I yank Libby back, shooting her a glare, "literally shut the fuck up."

She scowls at my pressed tone, "what? I was just asking-"

"Hair dye?" Daemon blurts way too loud, shutting us both up.

We turn to him as he looks between us. He tilts his head and adjusts his grip on his sword. He straightens his posture. In that moment, his expression was changed dramatically. He reaches out for Libby's hair, inspecting it in his hand. His violet eyes dart to hers, "so, your hair is blue because of dye?"

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck.

I grab Libby's hand before she can think of saying some bullshit. She does not move a muscle as I squeeze her palm.

Daemon raises his brows impatiently.

"What?" she mumbles.

I clench my jaw at her ditzy response.

Daemon narrows his eyes, "are you so dimwitted not to understand me the first time?

Fucking fuck. A shiver runs down my spine. Libby raises her brows and turns to me as I stare at Daemon. I blurt, "it is a right of passage for her family."

Daemon eyes me hotly.

I release Libby's hand and scramble to the bed where my clothes were folded into a small sack. I go through my things and pull out my phone, opening my gallery, showing Daemon a photo of Libby and our friends with bright colored hair. I lie, "these are her cousins."

Daemon pulls his head back at the sight of the photo on my phone; it was the exact reaction he had when I showed him a screenshot of the maps of this very place.

Libby blinks rapidly as Daemon comes to my side. The man basically breathes down my neck as he looks a the screen like a boomer. He narrows his eyes and pulls back his chin.

I point to Sandra, who had pink hair, "they do this to... commemorate the war-- of their people."

Daemon looks at Libby again, seemingly expecting more of an explanation. I look at Daemon and begin to panic at the aloof expression Libby held. I place my hand on his arm and rub it gently. Thankfully, he's still a simple man and it seems to diffuse his unbelieving demeanor, "it's hard for her to talk about. It was a war over dye and trading. A lot of her family... were casualties."

Fuck. WELL, real wars have been fought for WAAAY less.

Daemon turns to me, "I find it hard to believe such traditions exist two thousand years from now."

"And yet," I wave my phone, "you could not also believe you were listening to music with me moments ago."

He hums and turns back to Libby. He nods, "well, have her dress," he turns back to me, "I want to break fast with you before the tourney, dragonling."

I nod rapidly. Daemon gives a smile and heads for the door, "you remember your way to the solar?"

"I do."

He eyes Libby as he walks off then turns to me, "very good."

The moment the door closes, Libby explodes, "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

"WE'RE IN FUCKING FIRST CENTURY WESTEROS," I whisper-yell, "now keep your voice down, you stupid fucking bitch, and change!"

It took me explaining everything that happened in detail as she got in her dress AND getting lost in the fucking castle then actually finding our way to the solar for Libby to believe I wasn't playing the most elaborate prank on her.

And when we got there, a servant informed us that the prince had been summoned by the king and that we should eat by ourselves.

Libby and I sit across each other. We decide to forfeit the fact the food could be poisoned because we were way too hungry not too eat. This blue haired rat, however, couldn't fucking stop saying the food could use salt and pepper. We were mortified when a servant came to us with a mortar of just that.

Before we could even say thank you, she runs off.

I snap at Libby, who scratches her headscarf for the nth time, "do you fucking understand you're a terrifying aristocrat right now?!"

"I'M SORRY!" Libby makes a repentant expression.

"You should be!"

"It's just that everything is fucking boiled and-"

The sound of the door opening ends Libby's yapping. We both snap to see who was entering.

In walks the dark haired man from the night before. Gold cloak, armor, and all. He steps in front of us and bows, "good morn."

"Hubba hubba," Libby tucks imaginary hair behind her ear.

"Fucking," I snap to her, "stop."

I look back at the man trying to remember his name, I can't seem to.

"Wait! Is this the madly good looking guard you were talking about?!" Libby speaks WAY to loud for a conversation between two people across each other.

The man makes a sound as he wipes his lips. My eyes widen and I sink in my chair.

"You clearly have a type," Libby mutters as she unabashedly eyes him. He is undeterred. She tilts her head, "he looks like your ex."

I snap back at her, "w h a t?"

"Or I mean he would look like him," she points her thumb, "if he wasn't so whiny, short, and pathetic," Libby turns to me.

"He literally looks nothing like Jon."

"He does!" she leans in, "dark curls, thick brows!"

I shove a bread roll into her mouth.

"Prince Daemon tasked me to be your chaperone for the day," he says, clutching his hand in front of him.

"I've always wanted a hot bodyguard," Libby smiles and leans back on her chair, "well, don't just stand there," she beckons him, "come join us for breakfast."

I pretend to fix my silver hair as I clear my throat, "breaking fast."

"Breaking fast," Libby corrects with a grin, "and what was your name again, pretty boy?"

I groan as I shove a bread roll into my mouth.

"Harwin Strong, my lady," Harwin mutters with another respectful nod, turning to me, "and please, forgive me for last night's encounter, Lady Gryffindor."

Libby titters and slaps her hand on her mouth.

"If I came off as impertinent or-"

"No, please, sir Strong," I raise a hand to him, "you were doing your job-- I mean your duty. Nothing needs to be forgiven."

"By the way," Libby raises a finger, "I'm Lady Hufflepuff and I would love it if you sat down next to me."

Harwin turns to Libby and I resist the urge to facepalm. My face twitches and I watch as Harwin shifts in his spot. I blurt, "you can call her Lilibet."

"Fuck you," Libby snaps.

I snap back, "well, that is your name, is it not?"

"I'm not entering my nun era."

I make a throaty sound and grab a goblet, "clearly," I take a sip, "but with that getup-"

"Hey!" Libby bangs on the table, "you're the one who made my cunt levels drop with this milkmaid outfit."

Harwin begins to cough.

"What? Like I chose that for you?"

"No," she props her elbow on the table, "but Daemon gave you a city girl-"

"Prince Daemon."

"-outfit and he made me look like your ugly handmaiden."

"Again," I brush my platinum hair out of my face, "that wasn't my choice, Lilibet."

"My ladies-" Harwin interjects, making us both turn to him. He clears his throat and offers pinched smile, "I am honored by the invitation, but I will stand watch out-"

"Oh, don't be rude and just sit down already," Libby presses with a playful look, "there's way more food than the two of us can eat."

And though she was correct, I kick her underneath the table.

Libby yelps and eyes me. I dodge her when she kicks me back.

"I don't think it appropri-"

"Nonsense!" Libby calls, turning back to Harwin as she fails to kick me again, "please, just join us."

"LILIBET!" I whisper-yell.

"UGH!" she turns to me with disgust and whisper-yells back, "stop fucking calling-"

"You do know he could literally be like your great-great-great-great-"

She raises a hand and cuts me off with a guttural groan, "oh miss me with that bullshit! You're LITERALLY a Targaryen!"

"I will wait outside," the man calls, making us turn to him.

Harwin walks off and Libby raises the bowl of bread rolls, "THE BREAD ROLLS ARE ACTUALLY REALLY NICE THOUGH!"

I wipe my face, "Libby, we're going to fucking die."

"Not before I try myself some Harwin Strong."

"SIT BACK DOWN."

"I'M SAT!"

When we finished eating, Harwin escorted us to the arena to watch the tourney.

"Are you married, Harwin? Can I call you Harwin?" Libby asks.

I shoot her a look, "Lilibet."

Libby ignores me. The man we were following keeps walking, not bothering to look back at us, "you may call me whatever you like, my lady."

Libby and I turn to each other with a gasp. No, cause why he playing like that?

"And I am not married," he looks over his shoulder, eyes locking with mine momentarily.

Libby's jaw drops and begins to shake me. She mutters loudly under her breath, "bitch. why he looking at you, and not at me?"

"Probably because you're fucking stupid!" I retort quickly in the same manner, unable to mask my giddy tone.

Harwin clears his throat again as he looks front. Neither of us catch this.

"Libby, be so fucking real though," I grab her arm and whisper, "that's someone's grandpa."

"Yeah, well, today, he's my daddy," she mumbles then bites her lips, as if it could minimize her grin.

Harwin makes a face and whispers under his breath, "daddy?"

When we get to the arena, the sound of the cheering crowds make both of us excited, up until someone screamed in terror and the crowds continued cheering anyway. Harwin gave us spots quite near the front, and the sight of the horses and their long-ass sticks left me feeling uneasy.

Libby shoves into me as she points to the far right. I, in turn, collide into Harwin's bulky armor. Before I can apologize for it, she squeals, "LOOK, IT'S DAEMON!"

"Libby, he's the prince!"

"TAKE A PHOTO! He looks so good!"

I give her a look as I straighten up, "girl, shut the fuck up."

Without another thought, she pulls out her phone from her bosom and wipes the moisture off the screen.

Harwin looks away, eyes wide, pretending he did not just see that happen.

"Stop it! You have no idea how bad this could-"

"Oh, shut up, you showed Daemon your phone!" Libby makes a face.

"THAT'S BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T LET ME GET REUNITED WITH YOU IF I DIDN'T CONVINCE HIM I WAS FROM-."

"Shush," she opens her camera and begins to take photos of Daemon. She shouts his name along with the other spectators and I beg her to at least call him prince.

"What is that contraption," Harwin asks, eyes glued on Libby's cracked screen.

I turn to Harwin, to Libby's phone, back to him, "it's, err... an image capturing... box."

Harwin nods at me though his face is visibly confused. He furrows his brows as Libby switches to front cam and puckers her lips out, "SAY CHEESE, DADDY!"

The color in Harwin's face drains when he sees himself on the screen. I clutch his arm and give him a look, "it's okay. It's not dangerous."

"Will it capture my image?" he mutters and covers his face. He mutters under his breath, "I'd like to keep my face."

Fuck. "N-not like that. It's... it's not black magic."

All the while, Libby is pressing the buttons on her phone, rapidly taking photos no one asked for.

A few people around us begin to mutter to themselves. I find myself looking over my shoulder, catching a bunch of men staring right at us. I eye Libby, nonverbally telling her to quit it. She gives me a look and snaps a few more pics of Daemon before shoving her phone back in her cleavage.

I release a breath when she does, that, and ser Harwin's arm that I did not realize I was still latched on to. I offer a look, "sor- apologies."

He nods, "all is well, my Lady."

And yeah sure, maybe it was. Maybe all was well. Daemon was winning the tournament-- or tourney, I guess; I have no idea what the difference was. I mean I could barely watch because they were fucking gladiator-ing each other, but I knew he was winning because after every crash, came a trumpet and the announcement of it.

So yeah. Maybe it was fine then, in its own sick way, but then Libby pulled me by the arm and said, "I have to take a shit."

"What?"

She gives me a look, "I need to take a shit."

"Libby," my eyes widen.

"I know!" she grabs my shoulders as the crowd cheers over whatever barbaric brawl was happening this time, "you think I want to know what their loos look like?" she shakes me, "am I going to have to shit in a river?"

I wipe my face and turn over to Harwin. His eyes turn from the match to me when I pull at his cloak, "mmm.... Lilibet has to... ... to poop."

Libby slaps my arm. I turn to her, frazzled. She hisses, "he doesn't know what poop is."

"You think I don't know that?!"

"I beg your pardon, my lady?" Harwin shifts to us, his thick brows knitting.

"Yeah, one second," I raise a finger at him, looking back at Libby, "I don't fucking remember the word."

Libby sighs, "Just tell him I need to sh- I NEED TO SH-"

I slap my hand on her mouth, "QUIT IT!"

Libby pushes my hand off, "WHAT?!"

"HE'S NOT GONNA KNOW WHAT THAT-"

"EVERYONE FUCKING KNOWS WHAT TAKING A SH-"

"NO, THERE'S A TERM THAT THEY USE! Think about it! Have you never watched a BBC period drama?!"

"BITCH, YOU KNOW I ONLY WATCH NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC!"

"OK, THEN THINK OF WHAT DAVID ATTENBOROUGH SAYS WHEN THE ANIMALS ARE POOPI-"

"DO YOU GENUNINELY BELIEVE THEY SHOW FOOTAGE OF ANIMALS POOPING ON TELEVISION?!"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. IN ALL TV HISTORY THERE HAS TO BE AT LEAST ONE TIME WHERE-"

"HARWIN," Libby shoves me to the side and grabs the man, "I HAVE TO SHIT."

Seven father fucking hells. I dig my fingers into the roots of my light hair and to Harwin, whose lips part and brows furrow. He nods, "I will lead you to the privy," he turns to me, "stay here in the meantime."

We both nod. Libby walks to Harwin's and makes a face at me, "they call it a privy on the BBC, do they? Sounds like an office."

"Libby- Just- if push comes to shove, tell him you'll shit in the river."

Libby groans as Harwin leads her off. She shoots me a glare, "I am not shitting in a river with Harwin watching!"

I shriek in shock when there is a loud crashing sound. My hands dart to my ears just as the crowd roars. A loud voice announces the victory of Prince Daemon from House Targaryen.

I drag my hands down my cheek and clutch my chest.

I dare to look at the casualties on the playing grounds, but to my horror, I see something far worse. Daemon's horse is galloping over to me. He rips his helmet off, tosses it, and sighs through a grin. He points his stick to me and loudly calls, "might a fair woman like you reward me something sweet?"

My eyes widen and I feel the entire stadium turn to me. My heart races and my jaw loosens inch by inch.

Daemon shoves his stick to the side and reaches his arms out to me, "a kiss perhaps?"

Rat, I wasn't even watching you play. Why should I reward you for winning a game I didn't watch?

I cannot help the sound that leaves me when the other audience members begin to spur me on and nudge me. Fuck. I hate peer pressure. I walk towards the railing and eye Daemon as if I had laser vision.

"I CANNOT REACH YOU!" I scream back, momentarily shocked by the ferocity and fury of my voice. I gulp and clear my throat, rubbing my neck that I would so like to keep. I raise my hands, "I must then stay here!"

Daemon, face shining with sweat, colored with dirt and blood, beams as he looks up. He chuckles and dismounts his steed. He walks closer to me and begins to remove his armor, "then come down to me, woman!"

The crowd loses it. The women around me scream that I should come down to him.

Maybe if I jump head first, I'll be done with all this bother.

Fuck, but then Libby would be all alone.

I groan under my breath, "fucking Libby. This is all her fucking fault!"

I look back at Daemon, who had two men helping him out of his armor at this point. His eyes are on me; they probably didn't leave. His lips are curved higher, "fear not," he smirks deeper, "did I swear to protect you?"

The crowd is feral. I glance around the place. Isn't the fucking king right there?!

"No!" I look down at him and shake my head, "you swore not to harm us!"

Daemon laughs, "is there a difference?"

"YES!" I blurt, eyes wide.

Daemon stands alone bellow me, free of his upper body armor. He raises his hands up to me, "then believe me when I say you will not be harmed when you jump."

"Oh gods," I grip the railing and screw my eyes shut, "I fucking hate this man."

"Will you make all of King's Landing wait days for you, girl?"

I growl as the people around me continue to pressure me to jump. Had there not been people around, maybe I would have spit at him. And yet - I climb the railing - I am nothing against peer pressure.

Daemon steps forward, arms higher, laugh louder.

The stadium gasps while heart leaps into my mouth when I let go of the railing and drop straight down. The collision is just as messy as I had dreaded it to be and the next thing I know, I've smack dabbed atop the fucking prince of the realm, crushing into the fucking dirt. So much for catching me.

Yet somehow, Daemon manages to let out giggles while the crowd cheers. His arms tighten around me as I push myself up on his chest, "my," he blows silver hair out of his face, "I didn't actually think you'd do it."

"Fuck you," I snap and shove myself off him.

I don't even know where I'm even going, but I storm off anyway, feeling like the biggest idiot in the known galaxy.

But of course, Daemon is quick to get up and grab my arm. He speaks some High Valyrian bullshit, but I care little for it and pry my limb out of his clutch.

It seemed that was the wrong course of action though, cause the next thing I knew, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder. The audience flourishes over the way he took me like a piece of meat.

I fucking hate it here.

Make no mistake, I did my due diligence and tried to wrangle out of his grip. But he was pumped with far too much adrenaline, and his inflated ego would not let him let me go.

Eventually, I got tired and just let it happen. The moment he put me down when we arrived at his chambers though, I shoved him off and distanced myself as much as I could, "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Daemon responds in High Valyrian, which effectively pisses me off more.

"I don't have TIME to decode your dragon-heir bullshit, so quit it! I am not a toy!"

Daemon chuckles as he takes a towel and wipes his face, "no?"

"Look," I snap, "I know you're, like, touch deprived and emotionally constipated," I stretch my arm out, "I mean, your family-- our family is a fucking wreath, so you're bound to be fucked up in the head, but please," I press my palms together, "PLEASE just be normal until the end of the day, Dae- Prince Daemon."

Daemon laughs as I go off on him. He watches me for a moment, throws the towel to his bed, and tilts his head.

My chest heaves as we stare at each other. Instead of relaxing, I begin to grow more tense with every passing second. I take a deep breath, but it does nothing for my nerves when Daemon walks forward.

"The truth in the matter is," he raises a hand, "you need me."

My stomach drops when he yanks me by the waist. His violet eyes dart down to my heaving chest. He places his one hand on my collarbone, "shhh."

The feel of him pressing onto my flesh does the exact opposite of what he wants. But no-- with how the corner of his mouth curves upward, I think it's actually the exact reaction he wanted.

When I try to push him off, he pulls me tighter into him and repeats, "you need me."

My nostrils flare but I stop repelling him.

"You need me," he lifts his gaze, "but I don't. I want you, but you need me."

I clench my jaw tightly. I am unable to contain my flinch when his hand strokes my side. He continues, "you need me to open the gate for you and your friend come midnight, do you not?"

I turn away from him.

He nudges me and asks louder, "do you not?"

"Yes," I whimper as I shut my eyes.

He hums, "then," he takes my chin in his fingers, "you'll be what I want, riñītsos." Little girl. He raises his brows. "If say you are a toy, then you say, 'yes, my prince'. If I say you are a rug, then I expect you under my heel. If I say you are my dog, then you ought to bark," he releases my chin, "now, bark, my sweet."

I glare at him, "if you want a dog, I suggest you go up North." I push him by his chest.

He laughs. He grabs my arms and pushes me back. I panic when I fumble on my feet and find myself pressed against a wall. "You're right, riñītsos. How wrong of me to liken dragon fire to dog breath."

I gasp when my back hits the wall.

"A shame," he tucks my silver hair behind my ear, "your parents did not give you violet eyes."

I am frozen in my spot when his lips brush against mine. My breath hitches when he simultaneously presses me back with his chest and pulls me forward with his hands.

I don't kiss him back. My brain was in a glitch. He doesn't seem to mind and feasts on my lips. The moment I have the wits to move, he pulls away and whispers, "worry not," he kisses my jaw, "I'll give your babes violet eyes."

Hearing that really snapped me out of my trance.

I finally turn away from him. It does not deter him though, and he makes due with kissing my neck. He moans against me, "you smell divine."

"I-it's called," I push him back, "personal hygiene."

He snakes his arms around me, "you were sent to me by the gods."

"I travelled here by accident!"

"And I plan to make good of this happy accident."

I fight him off when he claws my skirt up. I weigh my chances with screaming and with talking sense into him. I ponder of telling him my vagina is cursed, but then I think he'd be into that.

"Don't fight it," Daemon grabs my wrists, "I will quench the fires of the Targaryen blood in you that calls out to me."

"My blood does not call out to you!" I whimper.

"You may be Gryffindor by name, but you will be a Targaryen once I am done with you."

And then the doors slam open. "Your grace!"

"Harwin," I call out to the man that burst in.

Daemon growls and but does not pull away or turn, "I'm busy."

"It's Lady Hufflepuff," Harwin speaks through strained breath.

"Who?"

My stomach drops, "wait!" I push Daemon harder, "what happened to Libby?"

Daemon finally looks over his shoulder with annoyance, "what happened?"

Harwin takes a moment to respond. The dread that courses through me makes me strong enough to shove Daemon off. He grunts as I do so. I walk over to the dark haired man, "Harwin."

He clenches his jaw and turns to his feet, "I took her to the privy. She said she was having... trouble using it and that I should call a servant to help. So... I fetched a servant, but when I returned," he clears his throat, "she was gone."

I bring my hand to my mouth.

Daemon walks up behind me, "you lost a woman in King's Landing, Strong?"

"I- I did not think much of it at first," Harwin turns to Daemon, "at first I thought she may have just finished and was playing a trick on me," he glances to me but looks away at once, "but then I saw her contraption on the ground-"

I gasp.

"And then I saw a shoe... and then her headscarf-"

"Dear gods, Libby," my voice strains.

"She was taken by a group of three men," Harwin speaks sternly, "I know not for, but they've since regret their decision."

"And Libby!" I jump and grab his arm, "where is she now?!"

Harwin feels guilt eat away at him when he catches my distraught expression. He turns to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "she's being attended to by the maesters in the ward-"

I dash to the door, intent on reaching her, though I had no idea where I was going.

"It's this way!" Daemon calls.

When I turn to see where he meant, he was already right behind me. He grabs my arm and leads me down the hall.

The moment we get to the ward, I run around and look for Libby. I am shocked solid in my place when I see the cot she is laid upon. My hands slap to my face upon catching her messy hair, dirty skin, and tattered clothes. Her waist was bound in bandages, but that didn't prevent the red to seep through from her side.

I drop to my knees and crawl all the way over to her. I yelp when I feel how cold her hands are. Hot tears burn down my cheek, "Libby, please!"

My breathing becomes more erratic.

"I've spoken to the maesters," Daemon's voice sounds from behind.

"Fucking tetanus, fucking bacterial shock-"

"They said she lost some blood but she will recov-"

"SHUT UP!" I snap and get to my feet, "YOU GET A FUCKING FEVER HERE AND YOU DIE!" I point an accusing finger, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!"

"ME?" Daemon snaps back, "that Strong fool was the one that took his eyes off her!"

"If you had just let us stay in your chambers like I begged you to-- but no! You wanted us to watch your stupid fucking game, you EGOTISTICAL BASTARD!"

He steps forward and barks back, "she still would have needed to go to the privy, you whining nitwit!"

"Why did they even take her?!" I whine.

Daemon does not respond.

"I do not contest that the fault is mine," another voice speaks.

Daemon and I turn to Harwin. His hands are linked in front of him, and only then do I realize they were bloody. More tears gush down my face when the man continues, "it was my duty to keep her-"

"It doesn't matter now, does it!?" I wail, waving my hands around. I fall back on my knees and turn to Libby. Her blue hair was stuck on her sweaty skin. And as I wiped her forehead, it felt like a rehash of last night, except worse. I sob, "nothing's gonna change the fact she got fucking stabbed."

Daemon looks from me to Harwin, "what of the men that took her?"

"I killed them."

My expression drops as I turn to Harwin.

The two stare at each other for a moment.

"Well, we can't question the dead, now can we," Daemon mutters, "feed their corpses to Caraxes."

"W-wait," I feel bile rise up my throat, "did- did you actually kill them?"

Harwin looks at me but doesn't respond. He walks off when Daemon orders him to get a chair. I turn to Daemon and whimper, "he didn't actually kill them... did he actually kill them?"

Daemon nods, "he did," and grabs my arms, "do not insult yourself by sitting on the floor."

For once, I do not fight him back. I let him bring me to my feet. The moment I'm stood before him, he takes my cheeks and wipes my tears.

I shake my head, "I have to take her back."

Daemon raises his brows, "you would dare to move her in such a state?"

"It's the only way she will survive," I mumble through trembling lips.

The prince looks at me for a moment. Harwin finally brings a chair. He places it beside us then stations himself by the door. Neither Daemon nor I make a move for the chair. The former asks, "and you think you can carry her all the way back?"

"Daemon," I grab his arms, "I just have to get her back. Once I'm there, it'll be half the work done."

Daemon releases a breath. He takes my silver locks and fondles with the ends, "and what if I do not want you to leave."

Fuck. "Please," I beg, "please. We both know I don't belong here."

I can see it clearly. It was so clear that those words meant nothing to him. It was talking to a brick wall. I sigh and wipe my face, "I'll do what you want. Whatever it is, I'll do, as long as you let us go by midnight."

Daemon narrows his eyes.

I muster up the most sincere expression I am capable of.

"You will give me whatever I want?"

I close my eyes and shake my head, "yes... my prince."

He does not respond. Daemon turns from me to Libby. He pulls away and calls, "Strong."

"Your grace," Harwin responds.

"She could manage on the back of an ass, could she not?"

Harwin thinks for a moment then nods, "she could."

"Then fetch me an ass," Daemon says. Harwin promptly complies.

Daemon doesn't make me do anything besides sit on his lap while we watched Libby for the rest of the night. I knew in my gut that was not what he wanted out of me, but he didn't say otherwise and I didn't bring it up. Soon enough, it was midnight and there I, Daemon, Harwin, and Libby, sat on a donkey, stood before the open gate of the castle.

Rather than thinking this was stupid and it wasn't going to fucking work, I prayed under my breath to the Seven that we be delivered from this nightmare.

But every time I felt tranquil, the donkey made a sound and I just knew it had to go. What the hell was I going to do with the donkey when I got back to the city anyway?

I clutch the satchel containing our things around my shoulders, "I'll carry her instead."

Daemon and Harwin turn to me and mutter at the same time, "what?"

"I don't want to be responsible for the donk- the animal when I get there."

"Just leave the ass behind," Daemon mutters, rather annoyed.

I grab Libby, who I was already keeping upright, and wrap her arms around my shoulders, "I can carry her."

"No, you can't," Daemon mutters.

Harwin adds, "you are not in the right mind to do this."

"Just," Daemon add, "set the beast free when-"

"I can't just let a donkey loose in King's Landing, Daemon!" I snap, "now please! Help me-"

The bells begin to ring.

I immediately panic.

A surge of adrenaline helps me gather Libby onto my back. "Fucking hell," I grunt and try to fix her on me.

Daemon shakes his hand, "here, let me-"

"I GOT IT!" I scream as the sound of the bell tolling makes my entire body burn with agitation.

I shift Libby on my back one last time and beeline to the gate.

Harwin and Daemon watch. It's impossible to tell which of them is more skeptic in the moment.

I begin to struggle and nearly trip on the annoying skirts hindering my feet. Harwin steps forward, "watch your step."

Daemon eyes him in annoyance, "how helpful."

"Fuck," I panic and begin to walk faster towards the gate, "fucking hell, it's not even that far!"

I reach the large, tunnel-like gate and can't help but close my eyes, afraid that if I could see where I was going, it wouldn't work.

Then SPLAT! I fall face down on the ground.

I scream and immediately roll Libby off me, uncaring that it hurt me, that it hurt her, and quickly get on my feet. I drag her corpse-like body across the expanse and cry as I do so.

I was manic. I was delirious. The sound of the echoing bells did not help the situation at all. I couldn't stop pleading to the gods as I tugged my best friend across the ground. I couldn't even open my eyes because I didn't think my prayers were heard.

"Enough!" a voice calls.

No. NO! That was fucking Daemon. GET THE FUCK AWAY!

I feel someone mess with Libby's body. I screech and refuse to let her go, "LET US GO, DAEMON!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

"NO!" I squeal, finally opening my eyes. I release Libby and lunge at Daemon when I spot him. We crumble to the ground. Once he's on his back, I begin to beat him. It unfortunately doesn't take long for him to overpower me.

"ENOUGH!" he barks, both my hands now trapped in his.

"LET US GO!" I cry.

Daemon shakes his head, "STOP IT!"

"WE'RE GOING BACK!" I try to punch my way out of his grip. It doesn't work.

"Look at me!" Daemon yells, "you dragged her through."

"Get off me!"

"You've done it!!"

I flinch when he shakes me.

"You did it!" Daemon exclaims as he sits up, hands cradling my shoulders, "we're in your time now."

I finally register his words. Daemon looks around, "when you said ruins, I expected an empty castle, not... ruins."

A gasp leaves me when I hear a loud roar from the sky. Daemon looks up when I do, and I calm down when I realize it was only an airplane.

"Was that a dragon?" Daemon asks.

"No," I pull away from him, "that's an-" wait. I stare at him. Daemon fucking Targaryen came back with me?

[mudisgranapat]

Civilian!Reader X BF!Simon

Imagine Simon being secretly obsessed with you

You and Simon met at a bar while he was out with Jhonny. Soap tried to get your number, but you had just broken up with your boyfriend, so you weren’t ready to move on. You let him buy you a drink, later sitting on the table with him and Simon, since the small place was crowded and you didn’t feel like standing up. After a couple of rounds, you’re talking about how your ex-boyfriend cheated on you, and Soap won’t stop saying he could help you forget him if you would just let him get between your legs.

You politely decline, and the three of you spend the rest of the night drinking and laughing, getting along surprisingly well. Although Simon is more social after a few beers, he’s still not much of a talker, preferring to spend most of the night listening to you and Jhonny talking. By the end of the night, Jhonny ends up getting your number after all, but so does Simon. You tell them you just moved into town, and could use some company.

With time, the three of you become friends, and you are later introduced to Kyle and Price during one of the many nights you meet Simon and Jhonny for drinks at the same bar. You never understand what exactly they do, but you don’t really care, it is nice to have some friends for a change (even if they are oddly secretive men with incredible muscles) .

Soap never misses a chance to flirt with you, even though he is well aware that, by now, he is deep into the friendzone.

Simon, on the other hand, spends the whole night listening to you, never once making an inappropriate advance. A perfect gentleman. No matter how small the problem, he’ll notice right away when something is bothering you. “What’s the matter, love? Someone at work giving you a hard time?” He’ll ask, using his fingers to tilt your chin up and look you in the eye. You sit beside him on the crowded bar, and tell him all about your problems. You rant about how your boss is too demanding, how the coffee from the shop you get your daily dose of caffeine from is getting too expensive and how you car is making a weird noise. Simon listens to you, nodding along the conversation and taking long sips from his beer.

The next day when you go to work, you notice the sudden silence that surrounds you on your drive, realising only a few minutes later that the weird metal clanking that used to come from the back of your car is gone. Your day gets even better when you stop at the coffee shop across from work and see that they were lowering the price of drinks due to “management changes”. You don’t even bother asking what that means, simply strolling into work with a smile on your face, ready to tackle all the issues your boss is bound to raise about the last stack of paperwork you handed him. But when you open your email, you’re shocked to see that all that your boss had to say was “Keep up with the good work”.

You immediately text Simon about how your problems seem to be melting away since you last talked to him. He’s pleased to hear that, and tells you that he’s always available for you if you need to talk. You come to the conclusion that talking to him and putting your problems out into the universe is manifesting some serious luck into your life.

Simon becomes your lucky charm. You don’t know what it is, but just talking to him seems to make all problems go away. Suddenly, there isn’t a part of your life you haven’t shared with him. From family problems to leaking sinks, he’s listening to you with a cigarette on his mouth, always looking into your eyes like you’re the only person in the world.

“Seriously, Simon. Thank you so much for listening to me complain all the time. I don’t know what I would do without you. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to.” You tell him one day over a cup of tea, after confessing to him that your ex-boyfriend had been stalking you for the last few days, but that you were too scared to go to the police.

“I’ll always be here for you, love.” He says as he wipes a stray tear from your cheeks. You feel them heat up at Simon’s sudden contact. What you don’t sense is the possessiveness that hides behind his words, the warmth that floods his eyes when he looks at you, only to quickly fade away when his eyes divert. Simon smiles, his face concealed by his mask, and the crinkle in his eyes translates to you a kindness that deceives the desire that seeps from his mouth.

Because, oh, how you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little angel, who now can’t go through a mild inconvenience without talking to him. Who isn’t afraid to confess her darkest secrets to him, and let him into her life without any hesitation.

Since he first saw you at the bar, he couldn’t believe how naive you were. Immediately telling him where you lived, how long you had been into town for and that you didn’t have many friends, since you had transferred in for work and your boss made you stay extra hours. You had no idea how dangerous of a man he was. Simon couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to control you, to make you all his. While Soap distracted you with his nonsense flirting, Simon indulged himself wondering how long it would take to manipulate you into thinking you needed him, and how good it would feel when you finally gave yourself up to him. His obsession grew, and there wasn’t a night where he didn’t think of you on your knees in front of him, a pretty thing, reduced to his worshipper.

He wanted you to need him, to crave him, to be addicted to his words and to his touch. So he listened to you, he let you cry on his shoulder and hug him when you were lonely, he picked up every time you called and answered your messages with meaningful words. He played the long game, and now there you were in front of him, fragile and broken, waiting from him to pick up the pieces, waiting for him to cast his “good-luck” spell and make it all go away.

But it was never about luck. Simon was the one who sneaked into your garage and fixed your car, blackmailed your favourite coffee shop into lowering their prices and roughed up your boss inside his own office. He made a key to your house so he could make repairs without climbing the window, taking his time to watch you while you slept, happily unaware. He threatened your relatives when they made you upset and your ex-boyfriend… Well, he might not survive this one. Simon had already given him a beating the night you two met, when you told him he had cheated on you. Back then, he had only known you for a day. Now, you belonged to Simon, even if you weren’t aware, and nobody messed with what was his.

Note: A little imagine for you guys since i haven’t finished the chapter from my fic. hopefully you’ll accept this as my redemption.

god, i love psycho/toxic simon 😭 writing this because i literally can’t fall asleep thinking about this so i had to write it down. sorry if there are any mistakes, i’m literally writing this at 3 a.m.

[justblades]

⌕ QUARTET'S TUNES, 18+

⟢ DAY 4 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — your boyfriend suffers from erectile dysfunction . . . he thinks of a solution to treat it, by having you preyed on by his two olden friends

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade, dan heng & jing yuan x afab!reader WC : 1.8k

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. 4some, manhandling, degrading, multiple penetration, aphrodisiacs, spitting, dacryphilia, filming, cuckolding.

utopia - a place you never thought you'd attain from your mere hands alone whenever feelings of loneliness creep up to your soul, pulling you back to square one with weight heavy in one foot. not until you crossed paths with a certain individual who appeared too cold than he may seem, his aura exudes of a gelid ice and a chilly gust of wind all at the same.

threads of fate are adamantine, each strand, each fiber shows a dedicated ending for every single being. although not halfway done, you've come to learn dan heng's sharp corners and the varying slopes of his soul. how he likes for things to be done, how he prefers to bask in solitude when those moments come. that he is not indeed cold like how he is usually perceived. as a way to delve deeper in the ocean of his depths, your vulnerable self mooring at dan heng's byline with your name written on it - it felt as if it was meant to be.

amidst the countless times he buried his seed deep into your walls, in spite of the scratch marks besmirching his pale, supple skin, there came a time he was unable to do it with you anymore. of course, sex isn't everything but it sends a pang of pain for dan heng more as he hungers for your body day by day; wanting to relive those lustful moments again, feeling each others' sweat mix with juices of arousal coating your thighs and dan heng's fingers.

and finally, he reached his limit. perhaps all he needed is some good old pushing buttons for his erection to switch back on. he contacts two olden friends, at this point, one was a mortal enemy and the other an archaic comrade. it was an eccentric situation that no one has ever experienced before. having your lover banged by two acquaintances right before your naked eyes is not an idea someone sane is capable of thinking of. perhaps it's the hunger burning dan heng's patience and blind hope that made him resort to these methods. as much as he longed, the twice you yearned.

a red tie slithers against your wrists, pinned above your head with a final twist to finish the binding. a makeshift of kinky shackles, a tantalizing sight to grace your partner's vision as two tall men stood before your restrained stature. the silver haired at your left and the indigo head at your right. they were polar opposites for a boastful smile plays on jing yuan's lips while the former appeared to have a scornful look imprinted on his.

nonetheless, jing yuan starts it with a white circular pill nestled on his wet tongue, stuck out just enough for you to see. "let's treat your lover's dysfunction then." he says as his sultry lips crash onto yours with fervor, eyes shut, fingertips trailing from your chin on the way to the back of your head, lolling you closer to him than before.

your tongues tangle in sync, taking turns as you begin to feel more of his liquids pour onto your mouth like a small cup, overflowing, escaping past your margins that reached to a point whereas you're drooling. a soft mewl comes undone, satisfying the general. the pill that slipped out of your mind travels way down to your system, its ingredients quickly pool inside your body waiting for its effects to manifest.

slightly glancing at the other male all the while you were being smothered by open mouthed kisses, "i'll take everything away from you." the remark stirs confusion, he sneers and proceeds to suckle on your neck's sweet spot. your body jolts at the unfamiliar sensation of an unknown's lips adorn your complexion, "i'll make you mine." his voice softens and it just all made sense.

dan heng feels his heartstrings rupture, jealousy seethes even though he may not show it. his brows lightly knit and focus at the matter in hand, he needs this - so he can finally revel in the delights of your body. jing yuan finally withdraws from your lips, sharing a gaze of lust and excitement with you. he only pauses for a moment and proceeds to scoot closer to your body, getting behind you as his arm lock around your neck, his lower clothing becoming tighter and more painful to bear.

this position felt rather embarrassing; you're exposed in front of your lover. the cherry on top of it was blade unbuckling his tan and jade green belt, slacks of grey shades quickly fall down to his feet - followed suit by another act of stripping, this time, it was you being undressed by him. he rips all of your clothes open, veins popping as he exerts minimalist strength: your body jerks in exchange as you get to feel his hot breath caress the plane of your chest.

jing yuan swiftly removes his too, cock springing free now at its full glory judging from how it twitches against your lower back, aching for some friction. struggling to keep sight of the two males preparing themselves to bathe in ecstasy with you, your body suddenly falls lethargic and the atmosphere's temperature felt rather parching.

"dan heng— make sure you watch all of this." jing yuan comments and lubricates your slit with a concoction of his streaming beads of arousal mixed with yours. muddy white sopping out of your folds, you were more than turned on, brought about by the drug you ingested earlier. you blink repetitiously once you start to feel something hard protrude your hole, it pulsates with desire and felt feverishly hot.

you gasp weakly, an opportunity for the other male to slip his dick in your mouth abruptly. "don't forget about me." he bucks his pelvis forward, forcing you to bob your head up and down; not giving you enough time to adjust and grow accustomed to his immense size. blade's scowl slowly ceases, eyes fixated how you react to being gagged by his cock.

jing yuan can feel a little competitive at times, a part of his playful nature. he thrusts into your cunt with ease thankful to the lube that most of your pussy provided, your velvet walls clamping around his girth. sloppy noises, mewls and grunts all bounce off the four walls of your own home. dan heng remains fixed on his place, his heart threatens to beat faster and faster, hearing your satisfied moans merited from anything other than his dick undoubtedly vexes him deep down.

it wasn't even enough of a foreplay earlier and it's just the beginning - yet your mind already starts to feel point blank, unable to grasp coherence and rationality the more you are stimulated by both the males simultaneously. unable to protest as blade's cock fills your mouth, prohibited to make any of the male stop as you were bound by the crimson string tied on your wrists.

jing yuan's guttural moans chime into your ears, bucking his hips in an animalistic speed while you got noticeably louder in mewls and squirms under the both of their touches. "i-i-" muffled by the constant bounce of blade's tip at the back of your throat, tears start to well up in your eyes, the depths reflecting the navy haired's face of satisfaction seeing you cry from how big he was.

"i was never aware you had a whore like this, dan heng. you're quite a lucky man, getting to see this any day you'd like." the male snidely remarks, sarcastically wiping your tears away with his bandaged hand. "weep for me more." he adds, a rivulet of his gathered spit drop down to your lips.

dan heng feels his trousers tighten all of a sudden. he glimpses down, seeing something indeed out of the ordinary. he was growing an erection, each rush of his blood to the flushed tip of his cock - he could feel everything course in his system. his breathing deepens, gunmetal eyes widened.

the silver haired doesn't let himself be outshined by his olden friend, "no can do. you'll sing for me more." he says and slows down his pace, only to give you long deep strokes of his as your walls continue to coil around him. it was a teasing act, but the thirst for more immediately gets quenched when he thrusts into you deeper than before, his balls lightly slap against the plush of your ass. you throw your head back, unknowingly seeking solace in jing yuan's broad shoulders while your mouth was still full of blade's girth.

you try to catch your breath with heavy pants, feeling sticky in every nook and cranny of your body. they were both being intense: more than what you could handle. dan heng never made you feel these sensations before, unsure if it's a good thing or not. whilst blade finally pulls his cock out— he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tangles his fingers on your hair, crouching down to your level. he looks you in the eyes piercing through your torpid ones, threatening to fall into a slumber anytime. suddenly, a hand stops him from handling you harshly any further, he looks up to see it was no other than a despised enemy. "you're finally back in action." a crease between dan heng's brows form, teeth gritting from how rough blade was towards you. well, what else did he expect? if you secretly liked it, then the male suppose there's nothing wrong happening.

"simmer down." blade comments as he finally removes the ties on your wrists, giving your arms leeway to rest at last. but it doesn't prolong as his calloused, veiny hands, guide your right hand to wrap around dan heng's throbbing cock while the free one was coiled around blade's. unable to register anything now, your body weight doubles down, feeling heavier than ever. something, however is amiss. pure bliss snakes up to your abdomen, feeling more desirous than ever— as it unfolds, your hands pump the two dicks on their own, granting you groans bubbling from both's mouths.

you were uncertain if this is what an aphrodisiac does to a person's consciousness. but then, with bleary vision, you make out the familiar object once again. this time, it was from blade's slick tongue twirling in your wet cavern, he was rough and deep, not leaving any corners unchecked with his tongue's tip.

again, it descends to your system, dissolving into glitters of substance that fuels your libido levels - willingly resuming to stroke two dicks while another one continuously ravage your walls, the general feeling himself catch the bliss of release anytime soon. "it's good to see you've finally recovered dan heng . . . but you have to know we won't be at your disposal the next time this happens and this is where my suggestion comes in."

the ebony haired struggles to whip his head to jing yuan's direction, a stifled satisfied expression carved on his face. "we should immortalize this." dan heng always understands jing yuan's point— and there they come into a quick agreement especially now that their cocks are twitching in unison, yearning for more. with a swift setting of a camera right in front of your lustful bodies, it starts to record every single detail unraveling as carnal desire inebriate the quartet.

they took turns in which who has the privilege to power piston into your cunt, while the other jacks himself off, letting his cum spring free in strings, embellishing your skin with numerous diagonals. another idea rises later on, putting it into action as two of them pleasure the both of your entrances, while the remaining person thrusts his cock deep inside your mouth once again. your body drifts into cloud nine, having three men thrill you with their own dicks at the same time wasn't so bad after all - and most importantly, your lover's dysfunction is finally treated.

more juices of orgasm sprawl out of your slit, pussy continues to spasm up to no end, knees trembling— how many times has it been since you came tonight? even the men themselves already lost count. all they're aware of is the four of you are having a good time, each male having their own charm that had your heart in a chokehold of lust.

my masterlist !

[anantaru]

How about jealous reader with kuni?

cw. [ex]plicit, jealous! reader, established relationship, fem! reader

kuni was as pretty as a drawing— or a picture made by the most finest camera of fontaine. beautiful, bewitching, pretty— there were many ways to accurately describe your boyfriend‘s alluring demeanor.

but in your own very eyes, they still did not do him any justice.

consequently, you, in all respects, did not mind the eye twitching chit chatters behind your back you oh so happen to catch onto every once in a while— how, another clique of people you only knew distantly, would slowly walk past your boyfriend and afterwards gush about his darling face and his beauteous traits.

his lustrous eyes and the color— which was hypnotizing in its own rights, reminding them of how he‘s idly behaving and how damn strong he was said to be according to the other rapidly growing news chumming about the mysterious man wandering around sumeru city.

but, snap out of it, not to lose sight of the fact that in actuality he was all yours— yours, yours and yours. but for some annoying, irksome ground you wanted to show him, as if he wasn't already aware of it— even though scaramouche knew and did not require you to prove nor demonstrate anything of that sorts to his person.

thus far, you kept it to yourself— that brewing, gut-wrenching feeling manifesting in your belly and littering into your bones, remained concealing by yourself until it all shattered right into your face.

now, you hover over him, saddened with your mind everywhere but where it should be— clumsily glissading your hands over his pale chest before raking your head down. you think he notices that something wasn't right but you hope he doesn't after all.

at your own pacing, you ghost over his jawline before placing your lips on top of his, for once sealing the insufferable distance between your bodies and stealing a couple kisses from your lover.

"i hate it." you admit against your own volition, it's almost as if something metaphysical forced you to say it out loud, though you're moaning into his mouth as he skillfully bottomed his hips deeper into you, erratically slapping his erection into your worn out hole.

"i hate it when they talk about you!" but then, it hits him and scaramouche opens his eyes at your baffling words— which had also been confusing him greatly as he carefully reduced the flow on his hips to pull your face off his, observing your with sorrow drenched expression.

"ah— wait!" even with him trying to decipher what was going on with you, he catches himself flinching into your lips again when you jerk your cunt into his length, walls twitching experimentally, like a second pulls enclosing his throbbing cock.

"who— fucking who talks about me?!"

breathing slowed, you pout at him, unintentionally reliving the innumerable days you had witnessed people attempting to get with him, with scaramouche; your boyfriend, soulmate, your life.

it was sad— but more embarrassing if you were actually truthful to yourself, that you let someone so insignificant as a random person‘s words influence you this much that you‘re still thinking about it even while your boyfriend was in the midst of fucking the broad daylight out of your skull.

"those girls." you sniff, messily shoving away the crystallines sticking onto your doused lashes with the back of your hand. but before you can catch a breather from your own damned psyche, scaramouche curls your body close to him, your hips now muted— though his cock would rest and skim into the cavernous pits in your pussy, but mellowing down your rise and falls.

"they always talk about you." you hiccup again, kissing his lips once, twice— one more, trying to hide the fact that you were tremendously jealous right now, of everything and all, it's not even 'just' those people, you began to doubt yourself and if anything, that's what worsened the whole setting.

scaramouche‘s face was ridden with confusion still but he did not say anything right away— right now, he thinks the most important was you, as always— to aid you, to kiss and drink your tears away and keep you warm, plugged into his chest.

genuinely, he had no clue who or what you were talking about, but if he learned one thing from being in a relationship with you; it’s that whatever is happening in either of your lives, you're battling it together, as one entity.

yet still, did you already forget that he‘s absolutely in love with you? or lets rephrase that, shall we? scaramouche was obsessed with you, downright and shamelessly crazy about you. that you‘re the only person that crosses his mind hour on hour, night on night?

he opens his eyes, he sees you, he closes them, he sees you.

"i don‘t care." he spoke upfront to be certain to get his point across.

yet scaramouche needed to show his disinterest in more ways than a simple sentence— in an immediate chain of reactions, he was flaunting you on your back so he‘d be the one to tower over your pretty frame.

you're his, you're his and his, he thinks about it, knows it and wants to imprint it into your insides and out.

"i don‘t care about anyone." he drawls back, using his skilled tongue to plant a wet line on your collarbones before shutting down your worries by a swift hurdle of his hips in you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you tremble under him by how good of a position he had you in, how almost feral, he uncontrollably claimed your sopping cunt with the relentless tempo on his hips.

"i only care about you." he smacks his cock forward again and again, "you, you, you." and he muses in tune with each thrust— fuck, again and he wants to make you cum so badly his cock was beginning to ache, then twitch in you, from both excitement and the pinpointed drags of his heavy cock rubbing over your inflamed insides.

"so stop thinking about it, hm?"

with the impact now being significantly larger, your breasts bounced in keeping with his newfound, reckless energy— and you cry out his name with a sweet, satisfied smile on your lips.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[insolentgod]

⚠️Attention:⚠️ very long post. It talks a little about: state of lack, take your desire off the pedestal, time it takes for a manifestation, get distracted about your manifestation , self-concept, and Cassies

one more night high and having crazy epiphanies about manifestations. and another day using a translator to translate my text to post here, because I haven't claimed to be fluent in English yet 😛 So, as I always warn, if there are possible grammatical errors, it's for this reason.

I'm here to bring you an analogy I created while discussing with a friend haha. (Yes, this time there's nothing about lana del rey!)

you know those people who humiliate themselves for others? Who do everything for someone specific to love them, try to talk to them even if it's unhealthy, or beg them to stay in their lives. (yes, it's quite depressing and sad)

i haven't been like that much in life, usually when someone didn't care about me, i cared even less about them. but I won't lie, there have been situations where I may have humiliated myself a little, but it's human.

anyway, going straight to my analogy, let's imagine that you struggling to manifest something is a friend "Cassie," and the manifestation will be her ex-boyfriend, okay? (i swear it will make sense in the end)

what I write outside the parentheses is Cassie's situation, and what's inside the parentheses is possibly the situation you're going through on your manifestation journey.

okay, you have this friend Cassie who keeps saying that her ex-boyfriend doesn't care about her, doesn't respond to messages, and shows no signs, and she's going crazy and desperate about it (just like you when you see no progress in your manifestation). so she does EVERYTHING to get him back (just like you when you try multiple methods non-stop and feel needy). and as Cassie's friend, you think, "poor cassie, she doesn't deserve to suffer like this" (and she really doesn't deserve it, just as you don't deserve to suffer for your manifestations). there are also moments when she sends a message for you saying, "I'll forget him this time, I promise." but after two days, she's there messaging him again (just like you affirm on the first day all motivated and trying to convince yourself that this time your manifestation will come true, but after a few days, you see no progress and start panicking), and then she gets very sad because she thinks they will never get back together and she will never be happy with him again (just like you think you can't manifest anything, that the universe hates you, that you will never get what you want, that the loa doesn't work). But meanwhile, there are other people out there getting back with their exes and you admire them, wondering what it would be like if it were you... (just like when you look at other people's success stories and think "why can't I do it?") spoiler: You can do it too, honey. If everyone else can do it, so can you. Wake up.

If I were Cassie's friend, I would tell her to STOP acting like that and start valuing herself and just distract herself. because let's be honest, men ALWAYS come back, right? 🤣 and many people may disagree with me on this and think that if she doesn't chase after the guy, he won't come either. but that's how it works for me, even before I started using the law. every time I started valuing myself and stopped begging for others' love, the person came to me. so let's agree with my thinking on this, okay?

and one more point that I think is worth mentioning is that if Cassie really doesn't want to do this alone, maybe a manifestation coach would be a good idea (if it were a real situation, I would suggest her to seek a therapist). There are nuances about "manifestation coaches," I honestly don't use them and I recommend working on your self-concept. but it's an option if you want, but please do thorough research and find a trustworthy one.

returning, what can you do to not be another Cassie? I'm telling you to stop doing whatever you're doing to try to achieve your desire? no. just get out of the state of neediness and desperation, like a Cassie. you don't need that, my love. you don't need to worry, "Is my manifestation coming?" You don't need to use a thousand methods because you don't think it's enough. whatever you believe will bring your desires, will indeed bring your desire. If you believe that jumping three times, building a castle, and kicking an elderly person will give you what you want, guess what? If you do all that, then you will get what you desire. and if you believe that affirming once in your life will get you a beachfront mansion, guess what? you will achieve that.

so, to not be a Cassie:

1 - trust what you're saying, please trust yourself. nnow that ONLY WHAT YOU THINK is the truth, and it will be. (my last long post talks about this exactly, I highly recommend it, okay).

2 - take your desire off the pedestal. your desire may be your biggest dream in life, I don't care. take it off the pedestal. the powerful person who can have anything they want is YOU, not your desire. tou are a thousand times greater than your desire. you don't chase after your desire, your desire chases after you. you know when manifestation coaches tell you to start manifesting just a blue butterfly or a candy? well, it's because for you, that's not difficult. It's something you find easy to manifest and know it's totally possible to have. but you can literally manifest a Porsche at the same speed as manifesting an ice cream, okay? take your desire off the pedestal; you are fully capable of having it.

3 - get out of the state of lack. In the law of assumption, some people talk a lot about states and some manifest just by being in the state of the wish fulfilled and ready, they succeed. but the state of lack is literally when you feel the lack, the absence of your desire. you don't feel like you have it or you don't feel worthy of it, so you probably fall into a spiral of despair with millions of thoughts like "what will I do if I don't achieve it?" "I don't see any progress" "time is passing and I don't have my results". Anyway,

- But what do I do to heal my state of lack?

just don't be in it 💐💐💐 yes, it's easy, okay. please believe that it's easy and it will be. I know it's very easy to affirm when you're motivated, especially after reading a success story. but motivation doesn't last forever and I don't think it's healthy for you to keep restoring your motivation by reading success stories all the time. there's nothing wrong with it, but you don't need success stories to heal. every time you feel like you're entering the state of lack, start trusting yourself. when it happens to me, I start affirming "none of this, I have my desires" "I don't care about what my 3D shows me" "I have what I want", I also imagine myself with my desire as if I really have it now. I'll admit, there are times when I start affirming this to avoid entering the state of lack and at first it feels like I'm feeling wrong, the feeling of hopelessness even. but regardless of how I feel, I keep visualizing and eventually start feeling strong and motivated again. in those moments, you have to be strong and disciplined with yourself, okay? you can do it.

4 - try not to care about time or the 3D reality. i know it's difficult, but please live in your imagination and believe that if you have it in your imagination, you have it now. about time, it depends, okay? Some people manifest in seconds because they believe they can, while others manifest in weeks because they think it takes weeks. if you're the second type of person, you can definitely manifest in seconds if you allow yourself to do so. self-concept affirmations help a lot in this aspect. Just don't worry about time in the 3D reality. If you know that in your mind you have your desire NOW, then you have it now. once you're fully living in your imagination, it will come in the 3D reality. I know it's difficult, but just trust yourself and your mind. I promise that if you live 100% in your mind, your desire can come very quickly.

5 - distract yourself! don't spend the whole day thinking about your desire. usually, the desire comes when you accept that you have it and continue living your life. I know it's complicated, especially when it's something you want, but distract yourself to avoid excessive and negative thoughts about your manifestations. and please get off tumblr for a while

6 - improve your self-concept, please. Just do that, and your manifestation journey will be much easier.

I think that's it for today. I talked a lot as always 😛😛

I usually don't respond to people asking for help here on my blog (mainly because I don't receive any requests) but if you're having problems, you can send me a message, and I'll respond ❤‍🩹 I just want to help someone like loa bloggers helped me when I needed it. good night everyone, and stay hydrated.

[gtsdreamer2]

As much as you loved the thrill of being with Stacy, you had to break it off. The last straw was finding her rummaging through your research papers after she had forced your briefcase open.

"I couldn't help it!" she whined. "You never talk about your work and working is all you've been doing! I just wanted to see if it was almost done!"

"I told you, this is very secret, sensitive government information. The fact that I trusted you with the details of what my team is even working on should be enough for you!" You rubbed the sides of your head, a slight headache forming. Stacy fidgeted at being scolded before finding her spine.

"You're my boyfriend! Of course you should be able to tell me all about this! You should be proud of your work! I want you to open up about it! I want to see what you've been working on!" Her domineering attitude always surfaced when she was confronted.

"No. You're way too invested in this Stacy. You need to pack up whatever stuff you brought over since you've been staying here and go. I cant have you around when the project starts practical testing on monday." Her ears perked up.

"So it's almost done then?" She asked, trying to get info out of you.

"GET OUT!" You grabbed a handful of her stuff and pushed it into her arms ushering her out the door.

Stacy's mind was racing as she walked back to her car, hands full of personal items from her now ex's apartment. She was trying to collect her thoughts and formulate a plan. 'The device is almost done.' She thought to herself, starting to make a bullet point list of what to do next with what information she had. 'I have a spare key to Brad's apartment that he doesn't know I made. I copied his keycard for the lab, but I don't know if that's enough to get me in. Even if i do get my hands on it, I don't know how to work it since he caught me while I was still trying to make heads or tails of the schematics. 'I think I only have one shot at this and I need to act fast.' Stacy thought to herself. She opened her trunk and threw all her junk into it before speeding off towards the lab.

Stacy sat in her car in the parking lot of the lab, trying to manifest the will to enact her master plan. She took a deep breath before leaving the car to stride towards the lab. Her strides weren't very long. She was only five foot four in her heels that made a loud clack against the pavement. Her small breasts didn't so much as jiggle in her sports bra as she powerwalked to the door. Another deep breath and she was ready. 'Here goes everything.' She thought to herself before flashing her ex's badge over the reader. It turned green and the door lock clicked. She was in.

Meanwhile, you were trying to put all of your notes back together. You quickly realized that your keycard was missing. "Fuck!" You cursed out loud, realizing that she must be on her way to the lab. Knowing that phones don't work once you're in the building, you grabbed your keys so you could warn your coworkers who were hopefully in the building. You sped after your ex, hoping it wasn't too late.

Stacy confidently walked through the foyer past the empty front desk and into the lab area. She was trying to strut about the place as if she belonged there, but her heart rate was spiking. She reached the lab and finally laid eyes on the device for the first time. It sat in a glass case, the designated name GRP-MK1 on a little title card next to it. 'This is it!' She thought to herself, salivating at the thought of getting her hands on her prize. 'The Growth Ray Prototype Mark One.' She reached her hands out towards it.

"Hey, you can't be in here!" A male voice called out. She recognized it. It was your coworker Shawn. 'Shit shit shit shit shit!" She thought, before turning around and beaming the biggest, fakest smile she could muster.

"Shawn!" She exclaimed warmly, trying to act as if nothing was amiss.

"Stacy, what are you doing here?" He said puzzled. "You shouldn't be in here. "Where's Brad?"

"I thought he was here!" She said innocently. "He gave me his keycard and told me to bring him lunch so we could have a little date before he had to go back to work." She made big puppy eyes at her ex's coworker. "Maybe he forgot about me. He always seems to be forgetting about me. Do you think he could be cheating on me Shawn?" She started to force tears to well up in her eyes, forcing a wave of empathy to wash over the man that could make or break this whole operation.

"He said he was so excited to show me the first stages of the practical testing too!" She made sure to use the same terminology that Brad has used so Shawn would think she came by this information in a morally acceptable way.

"Well..." Shawn started, "I don't think he's cheating on you Stace. He talks you up all the time. You're his little firecracker of a girlfriend." She bristled at the word 'little' but tried not to show it. "Maybe he gave you the wrong day? Practical testing isn't supposed to start until tomorrow. Today is Sunday. There's no one here but me, and I'm just going over all the specifics so that everything will be ready by then."

Her eyes lit up with all this new information. Knowing it was just her and him, her demeanor shifted. "That's really too bad." She pouted, walking over to Shawn. "I really really wanted to see the device work. Stupid Brad was so excited to show me that he gave me the wrong day. And I'm busy tomorrow, so I'll never get another chance to see it. After he talked it up so much to me and everything.."

"I'm sorry Stacy. I wish there was something I could do to help." She gave him her best pleading face at this point.

"Well it's ready isn't it? Can't you just give me a teensy demonstration? Pretty please? No one has to know." She put her hand on his chest now. "Besides, don't you want to see that it works before tomorrow? I would hate for you to be doing all this work alone tonight and for something to not work tomorrow. They could blame you." He immediately saw her point.

"Well...I was going to say no and kick you out of here since you don't have any kind of clearance, but its nice to talk to a girl once in a while. You're right though, I should make sure it's calibrated correctly and ready for the real demonstration tomorrow. Just sit right over there behind the blast shield and I'll get it all set up. You're in for a treat." Shawn's ego began to flare and he was getting excited about showing this little cutie what they've been working on. 'Sure she's Brad's girl, but he isn't here.' He thought.

He grabbed an apple from the break room and brought it back to the lab. Stacy was sitting right where he told her to like a good listener. He set the apple on a pedestal. He than carefully picked up the GRP. He fiddled with the settings far away enough from Stacy where she couldn't see what he was doing. She cursed under her breath. "Almost ready?" She said in her cutesiest voice.

"Ya, we're there." Shawn replied. "Standby." He lowered his safety goggles a and walked back behind a line that was a certain distance away from the apple. "Ok. We're recording. On my mark in three, two, one. Engage." He fired a soft green light from the gun that hit the apple spot on. Once it found its mark, the beam locked and began to pulse into it. Stacy watched in awe as each pulse caused the apple to in turn pulse larger. It trippled in size in a matter of thirty seconds. She could feel a wet spot forming between her legs wishing that she could trade places with that apple. "Disengage in three, two, one. Power off." He switched the gun to off and the beam thinned and ended its connection to the hulking fruit.

"Is it safe to come over there now?" You said, not even trying to hide your manic excitement. He nodded and you quickly walked over to him. "That was incredible! It works even better than Brad said it would! I bet that's because you were the last one working on it! You're such a genius! And a stud!" Shawn was blushing now. He cleared his throat.

"Yes...well that was what you wanted to see and all I needed to test before tomorrow. I hope you're satisfied now." He began to put the gun back where it went.

"Wait!" She blurted, louder and more desperate than she intended. Shawn was taken aback. "I mean..." She said mousily. "Did it work? I can tell it looks bigger, but is it safe? Is it gonna blow up or something? Is that as big as you meant to make it? Can you make it small again? Sorry, I'm kind of dumb and don't really understand how it works or any of the science behind it. Could a smart guy like you make me feel at ease and explain it to a silly girl like me?" Shawn's ego flared again.

He held the device in his hands and turned to face her, delaying the return of the ray to its home. "That's a lot of questions for someone who isn't even supposed to be here." He paused. "Hell you seem just as interested in this stuff as your boyfriend. But I'm in such a good mood after the test worked, what the hell. First off, it worked just like it was supposed to. We had done the calibrations for this specific fruit with the hopes that the energy input over the time we alloted for would result in about a three times gain in overall mass. It looks like we've achieved that. Secondly, it's totally safe. All this GRP has done is deliver the proper nutrients and signals to tell the apple to 'grow' in a sense. The ray signals the cells in the organic material to accept the nutrients in the beam, get absorbed, and the cells then go through forced mitosis. The longer the beam stays on the organic matter, the longer the cells continue to go through the multiplication. So healthy cells make more healthy cells and result in growth. There are settings to localize the beam on different parts of the organic matter, so like you can make a giant banana without having a peel that's thicker than tree bark. It's just all in the settings." He seems so proud of his work. "Oh, and no, we can't shrink it down. We haven't worked even a little on the hypothesis of sucking the nutrients back out. Once it's big, it's big. Which is good for what we need it for." She liked that answer.

While her mind was racing with all the new information that had just been mansplained to her, Shawn twirled the raygun around like a six-shooter and pretended to fire a shot at Stacy before blowing on the tip, mimicking a cowboy in an old western. She opened her arms wide as if pretending (hoping) to be shot. Shawn just stared her down and gave her a puzzled look. "I wasn't gonna use it on you, Stace. Don't worry." Worry was the last thing on her mind as she gave a nervous giggle in reply.

"I know that. Of course you're not. You wouldn't want me to become more woman than you could handle." She batted her eyelashes at him and gave another silly giggle. "But..." She pressed on, "...what would have happened if you did?"

"Well trials on animals don't start for another few months at least. I mean, I've been tinkering with the settings for it sure, but we'd have to start with like bugs and mice and stuff first." Stacy stuck out her bottom lip.

"And here I thought you could help me get a little bit...bigger." She said accentuating the last word as she stuck out her tiny chest towards Shawn. "How about just a teensy bit? I could be the perfect test subject. I'm right here and I'm ready and we don't have to tell anybody. You said the apple was safe and you've been fiddling with the settings for animals. I'm an animal Shawn. Shoot me. Show me what that big brain of yours can do with that gun you've got there. Pretty please?" She laced her fingers together and pleaded her best.

"I guess it couldn't hurt." Shawn replied nervously. "I know it'll work and as long as I'm only growing you the smallest bit, no one should know. Stacy squealed with delight as she skipped over to the pedestal the apple was resting on. She picked it up with both hands and hefted it's weight a few times before gingerly setting it down and taking its place in the blast zone. She kicked her feet back and forth like am excited school girl while Shawn fiddled with the settings.

Meanwhile, you were tearing up the road doing eighty-five trying to get to the lab as quickly as possible. You had finally pulled up as Shawn had finished dialing in the machine.

"Alright, I've set it to all the proper specifications. It should work just fine on you and it should only add an inch. Two at the most. Are you ready?" Shawn seemed overconfident in his abilities, but after growing the fruit and also being spurred on by this small cutie in front of him, he couldn't not be.

"You have no idea." She replied, feeling the arousal flood her body at the prospect of finally getting to grow. "Hit me!" She demanded, opening her arms wide like before.

"Standby." Shawn began. "We're recording. First animal subject. Set for twenty seconds at one to two inches. On my mark in three, two, one. Engage." Pulling the trigger, the beam shot out and hit Stacy square in the chest. Immediately her whole body was flooded with an intense euphoria as each cell drank in the nutrients and received the signal to divide and multiply. 'Fuck. It's happening! It's really happening! I feel it!' Her whole body felt hot. Every nerve vibrating with pleasure, every neuron screaming for more. Her time was almost out though. She was too lost in the pleasure to hear Shawn counting down. "Disengage in three, two on-" just then you threw open the door to the lab after using the backup access panel to get in.

"Shawn, what the fuck are you doing?!" You screamed. Shawn meanwhile was focused on you now and failed to switch off the device after the alloted time. Stacy squirmed in pleasure as she felt her clothing grow tight against her expanding body. She tried as hard as she could not to moan or cry out or draw any attention to herself so she could grow as long as possible.

"I can explain! I wanted to make sure that everything was ready for the demonstration tomorrow so I was going to try it out and then your girl wanted me to make her a little bigger and

.." Shawn returned his focus to Stacy now, who has been basking in the beam for upwards of a minute by now. "Disengage!" He said frantically as he turned off the beam.

Stacy was taking up a considerable amount more of the pedestal than before. Even sitting, you could tell that your ex had grown substantially. "Mmmmph. Thanks Shawn. That was incredible. Even better than I could have imagined. She stood up and the seams on her jeans split. "Fuck that's hot. I outgrew my damn pants. Oh hi Brad." She said nonchalant as she strutted with her new, longer legs over to Shawn. She had grow. About a whole foot and was now slightly taller than the man holding the gun. "What do you think?" She asked, giving him a little twirl.

"I think I messed up and made you too big. I'm sorry! You only wanted to be a teensy bit bigger and now you're taller your boyfriend." He looked so small and pitiful to her while apologizing.

"Who, him?" She gestured over to you. "Oh he broke up with me earlier today. I'm actually single now if you think you can handle all this, big boy." She was still incredibly aroused, but she wanted so much more. "Oh and don't worry about holding down the trigger for longer on accident. I think that was for the best. After all, I'm not done. I want you to turn it up and hit me again."

"Stacy, what are you-" you began, but she quickly cut you off.

"Shut the fuck up Brad. I've been waiting years for this little project of yours to finally become a reality. I've always dreamed about becoming bigger. I've fantasized about it since I was a little girl. And up until now I've never felt like anything more than a little girl and certainly never been treated as anything more than such. But now you've finally helped me become so much more! Too bad we aren't together anymore though. Truly. This new body of mine feels like it could have really given you a good time. Growing has really turned me on!" She rubbed her hand over the remains of her denims before tearing them away to reavel the tightest soaked pair of pink panties, holding on for dear life. She then turned her attention back to Shawn. "Now Shawn, I'm not going to tell you again. Hit me." She took another step closer to him as he tried to back away but found himself cornered against a wall of the lab. Stacy struck like a snake and placed her hand over Shawn's on the gun. She placed the nozzle straight against her top, which could barely contain her still hardly sizable bust, and squeezed his hand against the trigger.

The beam shot out directly into her chest as the pleasure exploded once more through her cells. "Mmmph! Yes! There it is again! I don't have to hold back about how fucking good this feels now!" She let out a loud moan as the growth resumed. Panting and pressing against Shawn, she humped the air as her cells responded to the beam. You ran over to try and break the connection, but Stacy was too strong now. In her euphoric state, adrenaline surging through her, she kicked you clear across the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. As she lifted her leg to send you flying, her panties tore away, utterly defeated by her growing hips.

At eight feet, the pleasure had finally built up to be too much. Stacy released her grasp on the ray and fell backwards, spasming in orgasmic bliss as the beam was finally shut off from Shawn. She topped out at nine feet tall, taking up a significant amount of the floor as she came down from her high. Meanwhile you looked on from the other side of the room as your ex lover shook and cooed at her own magnificence.

This was your one chance you thought to yourself. "Shawn!" You croaked with what little air remained in your lungs. He broke away from his fixation on the post climax giant before him to look at his floored coworker. You made a key turning gesture towards him to signal him to lock the device away. He quickly turned away from Stacy and made a dash for the case. As soon as she realized what was happening and shot to her feet.

"No!" She screamed, lunging after Shawn as he shut and locked the device away inside a metal gun safe. "Open it! I'm not finished!" She roared trying to intimidate Shawn with her sheer magnitude.

"No way!" Shawn said, clearly oblivious to the predicament that you were both currently in. "We outnumber you two to one, and now that the GRP is safely locked away, we wont let you get any bigger than you already are! Look at you! You're like ten feet tall!"

"I know! Stacy bellowed with glee, "It's amazing! I feel so so good! No more 'little firecracker.' No more submissive pixie girlfriend. No more shy reserved daughter." She swung her arm into Shawn then as you were finally gaining the ability to breathe again. He only flew a few feet, but he hit the ground with a hard thud. As you began to crawl towards her, she put both of her arms on the gun safe, violently pulling at the handle to no avail. Then she spotted you.

"Help me open this, wont you honey?" She said, feigning sweetness. She picked you up with two hands by the back of your shirt and pressed your face against the cold steel front of the safe. She put her face right next to your ear as she whispered. "Don't make me make you. You know I can."

You felt her big strong hand pressing into your back. You knew she was strong enough to break you at this point. You were cursing Shawn under your breath for letting things get this out of hand. You were cursing yourself for letting her trick you out of your keycard in the first place. She increased the pressure against your back again in an attempt to force you into compliance. And then you did. "Ok." you muttered, defeated. You pressed the code into the safe and the light on it turned from red to green as you heard the lock click open. Stacy tossed you aside like rubbish and then opened the safe. Now, for the first time, she held the gun solely in her hands. You and Shawn were both struggling to get back on your feet as the mini giantess fussed with the settings.

"It's really intuitive once you get into it." She said out loud as she started turning all the dials way up past their recommended limits. "It does help that I got to skim through your notes honey." She smirked, looking down at you. She was getting aroused again at how much further she would be looking down at you very shortly. "And adjust this for my tits. This for my muscle mass. This for...well all of me. Setting the timer to automatically shut off after...never." She giggled as she rigged the gun to never stop after it was switched on. "Now I just set it up here out of the boys' reach aaaaand." She got into position and flipped the switch. Immediately the whole room glowed with the brightness emanating from the gun as it funneled an otherworldly amount of energy directly into Stacy's chest.

Her whole body burned in an inferno of pleasure as her cells struggled to take in the nutrients and information from the beam. "Aaaah, it feels so good! Fuck! I feel like my each of my cells is getting themselves off to this fucking feeling! All of her muscles contracted as the cells drank in enough energy to burst. Her whole body glowed the color of the beam as she felt her orgasm start to build. Then, in recognition of the beams orders, all her cells started to multiply at an exponential rate. Her body doubled to twenty feet as she doubled over to not break though the roof. Then she doubled again, lifting the gun and cradling it in her hand as she destroyed the building that previously caged her. Shawn was crushed by the debris, but a steel girder protected you as the sides of the building collapsed around you. All you could see was smoke and falling rubble, but your ears were ringing with the laughter and moans of your power-drunk ex girlfriend.

"More more more! She screamed as she stood up to her full height of 50 feet, the GRP shooting out from her hands at her as she held it gingerly away from herself. She doubled again to one hundred feet and took a few steps in the opposite direction from where you were trapped, crushing everything underfoot. 'She doesn't even feel the lives she's taking' You thought to yourself as your manic pixie giant doubled again.

"Bigger!" She cried as she doubled again to two-hundred feet now before the gun sputtered out and stopped. Dropping the gun and then dropping on her ass, Stacy began to vigorously touch herself, making sure to relish in the pleasure of her new size before the euphoria wore off. She cupped her finally stable breasts, squirming and moaning as her juices flooded the crushed city in front of her.

Finally coming back to reality, Stacy looked around. "Oh boyfriend!" She called out lovingly. "Where are you? I need you to make me another one of those rayguns because that one broke. I'm still not done!" She gave a giant pout before looking at the rubble, picking you out of it, and bringing you close to her face. "You don't have a problem with that, right dear? Not that you have a choice either."

[aeraspais]

i wonder if most of the pushback with regard to 8x05 comes from the fandom being so sure that eddie is going to figure out he’s gay before he shaves the mustache. i think that belief has led to there being this sense of ‘if gay eddie/buddie doesn’t happen now and like this then it’s never going to happen and we’re running out of time’, which isn’t true. i admittedly did get caught up how the fandom theorized episodes 5-7 would play out (bt fight and breakup in 5-6, gay eddie and mustache shaved in 6, possible feelings realization in 7) and felt disappointed with 8x05 because of that, but after rewatching the episode and reevaluating the expectations i had for it and why i even had them in the first place i feel a lot better about it. eddie’s arc is only just starting! we know the shaving scene is at the end of the next episode, and imo it would be extremely rushed for eddie to realize he’s gay within that time frame based on what we’ve seen from him so far. eddie has clearly been thinking a lot about the situation he’s in but his sense of self is still wrapped up in being a father. my guess now is that he will confide in someone about feeling completely lost without christopher in his life and the mustache being a manifestation of that, and they will tell him that altering his physical appearance isn’t the solution he needs to change his circumstances and encourage him to figure out who he is outside of being a father. the synopsis for 8x06 says a call dealing with a divorced man will open old wounds, so if that's about eddie then i think that he will likely also confess to shannon wanting a divorce and how he’s been lying to himself about the true nature of their marriage and the effect that lie has had on all his subsequent romantic relationships. shaving off the mustache will be what kickstarts his self-discovery arc instead of being the moment he accepts his sexuality like i’d thought previously.

as far as the bt breakup goes — if the show does end up going the route of tommy being abby’s ex and that striking a nerve with buck, i think that could be the catalyst that allows him the freedom to admit all the other things about tommy/the relationship that he dislikes but has so far disregarded in an effort to make the relationship work. the comments buck made in 8x05 (“oh so i am gross?” and “my own boyfriend won’t even kiss me”) point toward him feeling dissatisfied and frustrated with tommy. i also wanted to add on to what the other anons have said about bt’s lack of intimacy and say that i find it to be apparent in the dialogue as well. what stuck out the most to me about the daddy issues joke last season was that although buck and tommy had been seeing each other for a couple months and were presumably fucking, tommy still says “god i hope so” instead of something like “i know you do” which would have established a sense of familiarity between the two. everything about the way they’re physically positioned in scenes and how they speak to each other shows that the writers are not interested in developing tommy or the relationship beyond what’s strictly necessary.

also! something i liked about the episode was how it showcased how much trust and respect buck has for eddie versus how little he cares for tommy’s input. tommy and eddie both tried to talk buck out of believing he’d been cursed, but he only relented because of eddie (the pointed “if you say so”). even tommy recognized that he was incapable of swaying buck and deferred to eddie (“listen to the medic”). buck protested when tommy called him out for picking his skin but quieted when eddie backed him up. tommy doesn’t know best, eddie does. also the way buck kept talking about billy boils despite tommy’s multiple (very condescending and patronizing!) attempts at getting him to stop… buck does not like that man lol

Thank you for sending me such a thought-provoking message. I love this post entirely, but I have one small correction regarding your first piece about Eddie’s journey. From my perspective, it's misconception that Eddie’s gay discovery hasn’t started. I always thought the Buddie feelings realization theories were too fast, too soon since they would be a core couple, and like Chimney and Maddie before, their romantic development would happen spread across the season. However, we’ve been watching Eddie’s gay discovery storyline unfold the moment he said “Tommy’s gay?”, learned he and Buck were on a date, then instead of breaking up, stayed with Marisol. So I don’t believe it’d be rushed if he has a small realization that he keeps privately to himself. Otherwise, I agree with you and all your thoughts.

I don’t want to simply reword everything you said about Buck and Tommy. I will also add that Buck likely believes he owes Tommy their relationship since he’s his first gay relationship. Buck has once remained in a relationship under obligation (Taylor Kelly after they said “I love you”). And he has never made the same mistake twice in his relationships.

[soul-of-tilly]

~~The Future~~

Summery: Tom Riddle seeks out oracle!reader, who is torn between instincts.

“The Gift was demanding, yes, but also notoriously and desperately attracted to dangerous people.”

Pairings: Tom Riddle x fem!Slytherin!reader

Notes: I plan to make this multiple parts! This will be the first series I’ve ever done so we’ll see how it goes 😵‍💫

Welcome to The Soul!

“Relax, Esme,” came Owler’s chronically unconcerned voice, along with an eye roll and a habitual tug on his green necktie. “We’re already late, might as well take our time.” To Owler, absolutely nothing warranted more than a leisurely stroll. And usually you would’ve agreed with him, if not for the circumstances of your lateness. “I doubt Professor Onai will think ‘jinxing Carmen Advile’s ex boyfriend’ is an adequate excuse.”

“So worth it,” he smirked, as you rubbed your temples. “Look, Owler, now you’ve given me a headache,” Not that it needed much, these days.

“Besides! I cannot be stuck with Lestrange again,” you lamented, the memories of last classes incident, (involving a crystal ball, a hover charm, and a goaded Peeves) all proved to be the last straw in your already thin patience and added to the present throb behind your eyes.

Divination would have easily been your most enjoyable class, if not for the fact that more often than not, you were sat next to a total dunce. You often wondered if Onai used your natural talent as a counterweight for everyone else’s fool. She had clocked you instantly as Lerrona Pythia’s eldest granddaughter— one of the greatest Seers of her time— and then immediately pronounced you Gifted in front of the whole class, to your dismay. The Gift was a personal thing, she should know. She seemed to be doing little to cultivate said Gift, however, because for the last two weeks, she’d assigned you to work with the mayor of Stupidville himself.

Probably the only other apt person in that class was Riddle, the perfect Slytherin Head Boy. Not that he would’ve even have any use or talent in the class; it was a feminine magic. He just seemed to excel at anything he touched.

Everyone seemed to either love him or hate him; public opinion being skewed overwhelmingly to the former.

You seemed to be the only exception to these polars. Yes, he was as handsome as everyone said, just as charming as well. Yet you’d seen those rare flickers of emotion in his shallow eyes and the flinches of his clique that followed. The Gift perked at the thought, shifting in you, welling that familiar curiosity and a rich sense of doom.

Those brief flashes of something other than the mask frightened those who knew to be afraid… Should you be afraid?

The Stirring was something your grandmother warned never to ignore, yet a tear in your instincts manifested. He was none of your business. None of your responsibility. So what if The Gift had a prophecy for him? Nothing you couldn’t ignore. Besides, there would never be a situation it could reveal itself. You’d never been alone in a room with Tom Riddle, and you didn’t plan on it. The Gift was demanding of course, but also notoriously and desperately attracted to dangerous people, it’s judgement occasionally bias.

Yes, that itch was best left unscratched, you decided.

“Onai sticks me with that asshat every chance she gets- Oh for god’s sake!” The already excessively long corridor leading to the Divination Stairwell was now literally stretching; new doors popping up to fill the spaces as the hallway horizontally expanded.

Owler only smirked at the castle’s show of unhelpfulness. “Screw Lestrange, we’ll make him move and I’ll sit with you.” You sighed, knowing Owler, that was probably an empty promise. The castle actively acting as an obstacle seemed to be the real thing that swayed you. Or rather, made you give up.

The trapdoor opened with a thunk, and almost comically, the small population of your fellow Slytherins along with the Gryffindors all turned their heads to the back of the classroom, where your head had popped up.

Professor Onai, now annoyed with the class’s stolen attention, pursed her lips and briskly ushered you and Owler up.

“Ms. Pythia, please take a seat with Mr. Lestrange, and Mr. Tisgrace please join Ms. Greenglass.” You wanted to curl up and die, but Owler only shrugged as he wandered toward the opposite side of the classroom. Despite your foul mood and the pang behind your eyes, the smell of oolong infiltrated your senses. You noticed with microscopic satisfaction, the tea sets present at every table. Tea leaves? He most likely won’t fuck this up.

As you made your way to your seat, Riddle caught your eye. Perfect as usual; neat curls, sharp jaw, shiny badge, and that damned blank expression that looked right up to meet you. His posture slightly straighter than normal, and he was twirling his pen. A habit you’d never noticed before. You inhaled and looked away, headache intensifying at the eye contact. Why does The Gift have to hurt?

After taking your spot across the dreaded boy, you sighed, deciding that he looked even stupider than usual today. He sat, casting somewhat dejected looks over your shoulder, directly to where his posse of Slytherin boys were sitting behind you.

It was none of your business if he’d gotten ruffed up or not; any wrongdoing to Lestrange was charity to everyone.

What exactly that little cult had going on was virtually invisible to the rest of the school, but being Slytherin yourself came with the occasional whisper of gossip. Riddle was obviously the ringleader of sorts, ordering around the other boys in his circle, while also successfully covering anything suspicious with his credibility. Not that anyone was suspicious about anything, really. Fellow Slytherins chose to turn blind eyes, and everything else flew under the radar.

“You may commence!” Onai declared, gaining her usual bravado back and interrupting your thoughts.

As if commanded to, Lestrange hastily poured your cup quicker than you could get to it, a drop sloshing over the rim and pooling on the saucer below- before glancing again at the table behind you. How unusual indeed. An unimpressed scoff is all he got from you as you took the cup.

Trying to be polite or under someone’s thumb? It was absolutely the latter, seeing as Lestrange had quite literally never done anything nice for another person before, especially not something so mundane as pouring tea. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes; judging by his out of character performance, the brat probably managed to fuck up somehow and was now on some sort of probation ordered by his gang. Serves him right, the little twat. You averted your keen eyes from him, opting to glance at him from over the lip of your cup every once and a while. You sipped away at the liquid, decidedly unconcerned by his dampened mood as you flipped languidly through the softened and worn pages of your mothers divination textbook.

“Page 117 has the key,” he spoke suddenly. You knew this of course, having memorized the entire thing by age 10. Your head shot up nonetheless, only to find him locked on the page presented. You were mildly surprised at his tone of voice… no… could it be? Timid? This was definitely out of the ordinary, and starting to peak your interest. You swallowed the last of the oolong, set your tea cup back on its saucer and cut to page 117.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Owler, wait!” You huffed indignantly at the end of the corridor. There he was in his lack of glory, talking up Advile on their way to the Great Hall.

He turned upon hearing your voice, spotted you, grinned like a madman, and promptly made a very inappropriate gesture in regards to Advile; standing clueless next to him.

All you could do was grimace and roll your eyes, irritatedly deciding it wasn’t worth it. You opted for the long route, leaving them be. Poor girl, you cringed at the idea of being in her place; Owler pawing after you.

You found him soon enough, conversing with Greenglass and Morestone in your usual spot at the Slytherin table.

You plopped your bag on the table, making Owler jump in surprise before he turned to you, that stupid smile on his face, satisfied by your last encounter.

“You make me sick, you know that?” You took your seat next to him and dug your fork into his pudding.

“Me and Carmen are in love, you wouldn’t understand,” he batted his eyelashes sarcastically, lacing his fingers together under his chin.

You scoffed, mouth full of pudding. “Poor girl, she deserves better, really.” That earned you a slightly too painful kick under the table.

“Hey! She likes me despite my faults, Esme!” He declared as you started to pile dinner onto your own plate. “That’s what real love is about!”

You were about to retort back, when something caught your eye at the opposite end of the table. Riddle and Lestrange, sitting together, both appearing to be concentrated on you. You met their eyes unafraid, who do they think they are? Lestrange immediately looked away, only confusing you more. He was exceptionally out of the ordinary today. He even read the leaves correctly and didn’t break the cup.

Riddle however was not one to look away- piercing brown irises trained on yours. It was you who broke away; suddenly your headache was back full force. You cringed and turned your head, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. In realization your stomach dropped. The Stirring was truly becoming unbearable… The Gift had a warning for him, you were positive now.