#I NEVER INTENDED FOR IT TO HAPPEN AT SUCH AN AWFUL TIMING LIKE IT DID | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

l-uminescent · 4 months ago

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˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky.

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen.

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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face.

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young.

"i will go."

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go.

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing.

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it."

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes.

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield.

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

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silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her.

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up.

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain.

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky, hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread.

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done.

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach.

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour.

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way. to kill the dragon you must kill the rider.

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal.

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours.

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both.

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do.

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

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appalachiancowboy99 · 3 months ago

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After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air. Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else.

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

#Thank you for reading - from the bottom of my little Appalachian Heart <3 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #grumpy #fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr #dutch van der linde #molly o'shea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you

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whoskimii · 3 months ago

Text

DO I MAKE YOU HORNY, BABY ?

★ touching him ft. gojo ! ★

˖˚₊ warnings ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ slightly subby satoru, he cums in his boxers (prematurely), brief mention of unprotected p in v at the end (don't be silly, wrap your willy :3), curse words.

˖˚₊ wc ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 1k.

“hn...” satoru shivered as you sat behind him, drawing slow, lazy patterns across the bare skin of his trembling thighs. his pretty eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his sweaty back on your chest before letting his head fall backwards against your shoulder.

he wanted this. needed this.

you were his everything, the love of his life, the girl of his dreams— hell, you were his dreams.

however, he was scared to cum prematurely. he knew it would turn out this way, but he forced the anxious thought at the back of his mind.

every aspect of you prompted him to finish sooner than expected. your softness, your gentleness, your warmth— it was bound to happen.

“wait... a–are you sure 'bout this...?” the silly question made him cringe internally.

he was the one who should worry.

your quiet giggle made him tense subconsciously. “of course, i am. are you, 'toru ?” you whispered into his ear, your hot breath brushing against the shell of his skin. your pretty, manicured hands ran up and down his thighs, slowly, teasingly.

you were testing him.

“yeah, i a–am too... why d'you ask ?” he muttered, attempting to conceal the way his voice was coming out shakier than intended. “by the way you're trembling, i'm wondering, y'know ? especially 'cause you were so confident before this whole thing started.” you gently mocked him.

his thin, white eyebrows furrowed slightly as you spoke. his cocky personality resurfaced. “who's tellin' you i'm not confident ? i am, i just don't wanna hurt— mphm !” he inhaled sharply as one of your hands slipped under the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his hard, leaky dick.

“mhm ? what were you sayin' ?” you smirked, dragging your lips along the skin of his tense shoulder tauntingly. “fuck me...” he breathed, letting his heavy eyelids flutter shut.

“aw, 'course i'm gonna do that,” you smiled softly. “but be patient.” his eyes opened again when he felt you move. you straddled him easily. he swallowed thickly but his hands flew to your meaty hips nonetheless.

“what are you—" he fumbled with his words but you cut him off. “shh,” you placed a hand on his chest and slowly pushed on it to make him lay on his back. “you trust me, right ?”

that question was also silly.

“of course !” he hastened to answer. “i mean, 'course i do...” he trusted you more than anyone else.

he didn't know how you did it but you made him trust you.

“good boy...” you whispered and leaned down, your chest pressing against his. the praise made him shiver but he would never admit it. you ran your hands down his chest before stopping at his toned abdomen. your rosy, plump lips met the sensitive skin of his collarbone, which made him whimper. “fuck...” he breathed.

you kissed the hollow between his collarbones before teasingly moving towards his shoulder. he hummed and tilted his head to grant you further access, letting his pretty eyes flutter shut. “you like that, 'toru ?” you whispered against the flesh of his shoulder.

silly.

“uh-huh...” he nodded lazily, focusing on the lovely feeling of your lips on him. your mouth traveled from his neck to his sharp jawline, the tip of your warm, wet tongue occasionally dipping out to lick at his skin. he felt you giggle before your lips met his. he instinctively melted into the kiss, reciprocating the embrace with a soft enthusiasm.

“want me to make you feel good, pretty boy ?” your lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

did you have a thing for asking silly questions ?

however, the compliment made him all tingly inside. he knew he was pretty. handsome, even. even a blind man could see it. after all, he had been told countless of times that he was the strongest— the prettiest— during his childhood and even after.

but somehow, hearing the words roll off your tongue made it even better.

“yeah...” he whispered breathlessly. he groaned softly as you began grinding your hips into his, your clothed core brushing against the damp fabric of his thin boxers. “baby...” he placed his pale hands around your waist, guiding your lazy movements.

the more you moved against him, the more he felt that familiar bubble in his lower tummy tightening.

fuck.

it was already happening.

“angel, if y'keep movin' like that— mhm... shit...” he sighed. “you were 'boutta say something, 'toru...?” you knew what he wanted to say. “yeah... if you keep grindin' against me, i'm gonna cum...” he admitted, almost shyly.

you hummed, pressing your lips against his. he kissed you back before the tip of his tongue slid out to brush along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. once you parted your lips, his tongue found yours eagerly. “shit, you— mphm— definitely have some killer hips, love...” he sighed into the kiss, his words slightly muffled.

he was about to cum. he knew it.

“baby, please, just... i don't wanna cum before being inside you, stop...” he broke the kiss with a breathless sigh. you hummed but didn't stop grinding against him. “love, shit, i... i'm 'boutta cum. i'm 'boutta cum.”

he gripped the sheets tightly, his eyes closing as he felt a pleasurable pressure in his lower stomach. “fuck... i don't wanna... cum before you do.” he managed to gasp.

“satoru...” the way you purred his name, mixed with the movements of your hips, was enough to make him finish. “shit—! ngh...” his back lifted off the bed slightly as he came in his boxers. “oh...” he panted.

once he finally came down from his high, his usually light-toned cheeks were flushed. he opened his half-lidded eyes softly, still hazy with pleasure. he met your gaze, slightly ashamed. “baby, i... i'm sorry, i tried to warn—” you placed your lips against his, cutting off his sentence. “do it again. inside me, this time.”

oh.

based on this ask.

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mythicmanuscripts · 4 months ago

Note

PLEASE more aemond PLS i am on my knees begging for scraps. ur one of the only writers who actually GETS him

Thank you so much!! One of the main reasons why I started this blog is because I couldn’t find much content of Aemond and how I picture him so this means a lot!! I have a few little ideas that aren’t really long enough for full imagines that I’m just gonna babble on about here for more sub!Aemond content :)) also, you guys are more than welcome to send more requests and to send more specific requests!! Anyway, here’s some random disjointed sub!Aemond babble

I didn’t intend for this to all be SFW thoughts it kinda just happened?? Honestly I have no idea how but yeah this is all SFW, I am happy to write more NSFW though! So if you have any ideas for NSFW sub!aemond then let me know :))

————————————

The first time you ever give Aemond anything resembling an order is at your first dinner after your wedding. Aemond is stiff and formal, barely entertaining conversation, you get the impression that he wishes he were anywhere else.

There’s a pitcher of wine next to Aemond, and you ask to have more wine. You say this out loud, and as expected a servant immediately takes the wine pitcher and fills your glass. You thank them, but then to your surprise when you look back at Aemond he looks angry, and maybe even tells the servant to get lost?

So now obviously you’re beyond confused and you ask him what’s wrong. Which leads him to blush. BLUSH?? And he softly mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like “you asked me to do it and they did”

You press him and eventually realise that for whatever reason, Aemond thought you were asking him to refill your glass and he’s upset that a servant did it before he could. Which… you’ve never been so confused in your life because you what?? He’s barely even speaking to you and then he’s upset he couldn’t fill your glass?? He’s upset he couldn’t do that has always been the servants job?

So without thinking you get up, put your now full wine glass on the cabinet and grab an empty one. You sit back down and ask Aemond to fill your wine glass. You expect him to roll his eyes but he immediately takes the wine pitcher and fills your glass and then gets up and carries the glass to your side of the table, putting it down for you.

You thank him, and to your shock he… smiles?? So then you decide to lay it on thick and say “thank you very much Aemond, I appreciate it” and then he just… actually starts a proper conversation with you and seems very pleased with himself??

So after that you start experimenting, asking Aemond to do things for you, thanking him when he does and praising him and well, he now follows you around everywhere you go and will fire any servants who dare to try and do whatever you’ve asked him to do.

————————————————

When Allicent first met you, she was beyond relieved because she very quickly realised how much influence you have over Aemond. She thinks that she’s finally found a way she can control Aemond and ensure he behaves and does what she wants.

Unfortunately she very quickly realises how wrong she was when she tries to form some sort of pact with you and you shoot her down immediately. You tell her that you have absolutely no interest in being a tool for her to use to control Aemond.

And well, now allicent is in even worse a position because before Aemond would at least mostly listen to her and now? Now Aemond doesn’t even look at her, nevermind speak or listen to her.

Aemond gets all the love and affection and guidance he could ever need from you. Allicent could be on fire next to him and he wouldn’t even notice.

————————————

The first time you suggest kneeling for Aemond, he’s mildly offended. He thought you understood how much he needed to be cared for and loved and never degraded and now you want him to kneel for you?

But, Aemond trusts you and he knows you always know what’s best for him so he agrees to try it once. You put a pillow down on the floor in front of a chair by the fire in his chambers. You sit down on the chair with a book, and have Aemond kneel on the pillow. You let him rest his head on his inner thigh.

Within 2 minutes Aemond is obsessed. He just…. He feels so safe?? You’ve got your hand in his hair, the fire is providing warmth, and it’s just the two of you. Very quickly he closes his eyes and just lets himself drift, the sounds of the fire and of you turning pages lulls him into this calm, almost half asleep state.

So obviously from there kneeling for you becomes common place. And maybe he even starts to tell you things while he kneels? It’s like once he’s there, his head on your thigh, all nice and safe, he’s able to just vent and complain and tell you everything that’s been on his mind.

As much as Aemond loves hearing your counsel and always asks what you think of things, you don’t give him any advice while he kneels for you. That’s not the time, he only wants to be allowed to vent and feel safe when he kneels.

And then maybe you also start reading to him? And god Aemond is just in heaven, not a single one thought in his head. He vents to you, gets all his frustrations out and then gets to just close his eyes and listen to your voice until he’s about to fall asleep right there. Then you help him up and crawl into bed with him, he’s asleep before you can even blow out the candles.

———————————

#sub!aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd

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rainba · 8 months ago

Text

What's Rightfully Mine (Yan. Kairos! x GN! Reader)

A/N: OOuuuhh... I've read over this a billion times and I figure I may as well go ahead and upload it. ^^;;;;;;;;;;;; Matching artwork with the story...! Woohoo! (*´▽`*)

TWs: very graphic depictions of violence, disturbing yandere behaviors, mild gore, kidnapping, 18+ content....... Kairos being Kairos. Slight mention of virginity (but it's just Kairos' virginity) MDNI.

Wordcount: 2300~

((And thank you @x-v0id-x for reading over the fic for me before I posted it!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆ ))

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

Kairos never meant for this to happen.

He swears up and down that he never wanted to do it– he promises that he never intended to hurt anybody.

But he did anyway.

However… Can you blame him–?

You are Kairos’ one and only, his soulmate, his beloved, the reason he breathes, the reason he wakes up every morning, the reason why he’s still alive– you’re his everything! Was he supposed to just let you run off into the arms of another man without even attempting to fight back...?!

The way you looked at that filth– that disgusting, foul, no-good other man… It made Kairos sick to his stomach.

What even was that guy’s name...?

(####)? (######)? (######).

Yes, that’s his name, Kairos is sure of it.

It repeats itself in Kairos’ mind over and over again, piercing his skull like a blade that twists and twists until he’s left screaming for mercy at the top of his lungs.

“G-get out of my head! Get out! Get out get out get out! Leave me alone!”

Countless nights end in him violently waking up from the same nightmare– a nightmare where you and (######) run off together while he helplessly watches. And in the nightmare, you smile so brightly, but you’re only smiling at that bastard. It’s like Kairos is invisible as he desperately crawls towards you. He’s sobbing and begging for you not to leave him, but it’s as if you can’t hear him.

However, (######) can.

(######) spits on him, jeers at him, then laughs as he carries you far, far away.

In Kairos’ nightmares, the other man stomps on his neck as he spits out callous remarks.

“Nobody could ever love you.” He sneers.

“You’re nothing but a disgusting freak.”

Kairos knows he’s heard these things before– but he can’t remember who once told him that.

He feels so powerless when imagines you with (######) as he sleeps, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about it when he’s awake– it’s a never-ending tragedy that haunts every second of every day. The bags under his eyes have grown horrifyingly darker. Kairos had to make this stop.

He was desperate.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he broke into that man’s house, sneaking in through the first-floor window and trudging down the darkened halls.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he crept into the shadowy bedroom with a silver blade placed firmly in his hands, his back pocket harboring a rag soaked in chloroform.

The two of you were sleeping together so peacefully– you and that disgusting bastard.

That man looked so carefree; his chest rising and falling at a perfectly even pace. His arms were wrapped so warmly around you, holding you close in a tender embrace. The blankets covered your lower halves, and the man’s face was buried in the back of your neck.

The scene was so peaceful. Way too peaceful…

With tear-stricken eyes, Kairos couldn’t help but wonder: “why can’t that be me?”

Why does this man get to live a happy and carefree life, but not him? Why does this man get to hold you tightly in his arms, and not him? Why… Why…

Why does Kairos never get what he wants?

This feeling– this god awful feeling that Kairos is constantly haunted by: envy.

Envy… The one emotion he’s all-too familiar with. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore– for once in his life, he wants to have something, and not just yearn for it.

In this moment, he knows that the only way to obtain happiness…

Is simply to take it by force.

Kairos had to be fast– because if the man woke up before he could stun him, then he’d be quickly overpowered.

Before he focused on taking him out, Kairos tiptoed over to your side, his gaze softening for just a moment. He pulled out the rag from his back pocket and placed it gently under your nose, covering all your airways. He knew he had to wait a few minutes– he had to make sure that you won’t wake up any time soon. So, while he stood there, he lovingly petted your hair and left little kisses on your forehead. When he was certain that the chloroform settled in, his heart started to tighten in his chest.

Adrenaline struck him like lightning as he snuck around the side of the bed, his purple eyes locked in on his target. For the first time in his life, Kairos was no longer the victim.

Nervous sweat dribbled down the sides of his face as he held the blade up high, positioning the pointed end towards the man’s exposed throat. Kairos could have turned back– he could have easily put the knife away and let you both go free. But he loved you too badly. He needed you too badly.

This was it.

He jabbed the knife deep into the man’s neck, hoping that would prevent any screams.

And it worked.

(######) jolted awake in horror as his mind raced to figure out what was happening. He threw his hands onto the wound and tried so desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. It was so, so futile. Gurgled sounds bounced off the walls as a bloody rampage ensued right beside you.

Seeing the red gushing out flipped a switch in Kairos’ mind. He doesn’t know why he lost control– he doesn’t know how it happened– but it did.

Kairos’ vision went black as he fully jumped on top of the bed, plunging the knife into (######)’s body over and over and over again.

Slash, slash, slash.

A horrifying symphony: the sound of flesh being sliced apart.

The man’s muffled cries were like music to Kairos’ ears.

He choked and he gagged, whimpered and wailed, but coherent words of pleas were unable to escape his mouth. Every time he tried to kick Kairos off, Kairos would stab him in his legs. Every time the man tried to push him off, Kairos would slash the palm of his hands. Kairos thought for sure that he’d be overpowered, but the adrenaline in his veins gave him strength that he never knew he had.

And there was blood.

Blood everywhere.

“M-mine, mine, mine… They’re mine...!” Kairos mumbled manically under his breath, his focus flipping back and forth between you and his victim. But– it wasn’t just Kairos that looked over at you. Your partner did as well.

His shimmering eyes stared at you longingly– so lovingly... Too lovingly.

It made Kairos’ blood boil.

Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “n-no, you don’t get to look at them...! Don’t look at them ever again!”

Then… Slash.

The silver knife plunged deep into his eyes– thick blood spewing out from the wound.

Kairos can barely remember what happened after that. All he knew was that, eventually, the man ceased to struggle.

His black hoodie was now soaked in blood- his quivering hands completely red. It dripped from his cheeks and onto the corpse beneath him– the entire world was spinning dizzyingly fast.

(######)’s body was painted in deep lacerations, and his face was disfigured to the point of him being unrecognizable. Something about it was so… So…

Exciting.

It was done now. It was over.

There was nobody in this world who could take you away from him.

And the thought of that made him smile.

Kairos laughed– he laughed so joyously, laughed so carefree.

Kairos’ mind was an incoherent mess. A horrible, horrible mess.

And he doesn’t know why it happened– he doesn’t know how it happened– in one moment, he was attacking that man, but in the next…

“M-mine… Mine… You’re f-finally mine!”

His pale hands were shaking as they savagely tore away your thin clothing. Kairos pushed your ex-lover’s corpse onto the floor as he kissed your lips with the intensity of a starved animal.

Your lips were so much softer than he imagined– so much sweeter, too. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore– after all, this night marks the beginnings of a new and wonderful life!!

And now, he also just gave you his first kiss!

The silver light of the moon was glowing on his face, illuminating the dark red blood that stained his skin. He was a monster– a selfish freak that craved your love more than anything else.

There really was no rhyme or reason to anything Kairos was doing. At that moment, he just wanted to feel good; he needed to feel your warmth.

In one second, he was desperately humping your leg while holding your hips in place. In the next, he was kissing your stomach and fervently licking your chest. He knows that you can’t feel it, but that’s beside the point– he uses this time as practice, so that when you are awake, you’ll be feeling nothing but bliss! And besides… You just taste so good; he can’t help himself.

Kairos kisses and bites at your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a faint trail of needy marks. Without thinking, he pulls out his cock and begins to jerk himself off. He parts his mouth and rambles to himself.

“I’ll… I’ll m-make sure nobody finds you! Nobody!”

Kairos sticks out his tongue and licks over your left nipple; he does it a few more times before fully sucking on it. The lewd act sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s so hot, so naughty, and ultimately entirely new to him. He’s never been so turned on before.

“W-we’ll live happily together, alone in my apartment! And you’ll be s-so happy!”

He speaks as if you can hear him– and deep down, he almost wishes that you could. Kairos crawls up further onto the bed and digs his knees into your shoulders, the shadow of his cock looming over your perfect face. It’s so close to you– so, so close– god, he still wishes you were awake right now. But he knows you’d fight him off if you knew what was going on.

“I’ll f-feed you every day, and– And I’ll learn how to cook for you! I– I can watch videos online… I promise I’ll learn… J-just for you!”

He strokes himself even faster, soft wet sounds echoing off the bloodied walls. Kairos lifts the chloroform rag away from your mouth but keeps it over your nose. He presses his tip against your lips as he keeps going, his precum slowly dribbling down your chin.

“W-we can make love every single night...! I’ll… I’ll make you feel so, so good… I…” A shiver runs up and down his spine as a whiney moan escapes him.

“M-my virginity… It’s… It’s all yours...! Ahh…”

His eyes squeeze shut as a hot sting of pleasure surges through him.

“D-doesn’t that sound wonderful!? I’m all yours, my love!”

Kairos pushes his cock a little closer to your lips– but he does it a bit too aggressively, the tip of it scraping against your teeth. God, he would give anything for you to suck on it– even if only for a fraction of a second.

“Th-then we can have a family one day!! I’ll– I’ll get my job going, I… I’ll m-make more money! Lots of money! W-we can adopt… We can…”

With his one free hand, Kairos reaches down and begins to stroke your hair, leaving blood stains all throughout it.

“J-just us two, only u-us two… Nobody… Else!”

The pace of his hand quickens as his head starts to tilt backwards, his breathing growing out of control. His chest heaves as he erratically chases his high, yearning so badly to feel it hit him all at once.

He can’t help but imagine how wonderful the future will be– your all's future together. Then he imagines the way you’ll be all tied up in his bed, completely naked and vulnerable for him…

Just like you are now.

“F-fuck..!”

It’s all too much– Kairos’ cock twitches as he cums all over your face, some of it pouring into your mouth and on your cheeks. He squeezes as much of it out as he possibly can, craving to see you drenched in it. Throughout it all, you still sleep so peacefully… All thanks to the chloroform.

He can’t help but think that you look so cute when you’re knocked out and covered in his cum.

Ah… if only he could draw you in this state.

Even though he so badly wants to collapse by your side and cuddle you, he knows that he has to move. There is quite literally a dead body in the room and blood on his hands– he has to clean up.

And he also has to find a way to sneak your body to his broken-down car outside.

Very reluctantly, he kisses you on your forehead, smiling sweetly. “I’ll… I’ll be back, my love!”

After a while of stumbling, he finds himself entering the bathroom.

When he looks in the mirror, his eyes widen partially in horror. Kairos knew this side of himself existed deep within him… He knew there was a disgusting monster that laid dormant in his chest, but he had never before seen it come out so fiercely.

His pupils were small, his purple eyes hauntingly beautiful. And on top of that, he was grinning.

It was the first time he had genuinely smiled in weeks– maybe even months.

Kairos turned on the sink to wash off his face, but he only seemed to be making more of a mess. Blood streamed down the sides of the sink and pooled in the drain. Despite how macabre it all was, he just couldn’t stop smiling– because now he has everything he could ever want: you.

All to himself… Forever.

Until death do you part.

#teehee #silly kairos moment #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yancore #yandere male #yandere fic #male yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #kairos art

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judyx526 · 1 year ago

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Genya Shinazugawa NSFW Alphabet

Note: I normally don’t post on Tumblr at all. But I noticed a lack of Genya fan fiction and it seems a lot of people feel this way, so I made a simple one. Genya is 4+ years older for this, so he’s around 20-21. This is 18+ kids... I know where to find you.

A=Aftercare(what they’re like after sex)

The king of aftercare. He makes sure you’re taken care of and comfortable. Always grabs a damp towel and water after doing the deed. Need more pillows and blankets? You name it and he’ll grab it. Want to soak in the bath? Man’s booking it with you in his arms to the bathroom. Considering his father was an abusive jackass to his own mother and did more harm than good, so he’ll do anything to take care of you.

---

“Are.. Ahem are you alright?” Genya croaked

After catching your breath, your hands soothed their way into his thick hair. A smile graced your lips as you nodded, “Yeah… I am a little thirsty though.”

He stared at you for a moment then set his forehead on yours and responded with “Alright..”

Within minutes, Genya was running a warm, damp towel along your thighs and stomach while you drank some water. Once you were finished, you gently stopped him from overcleaning and pulled him into an embrace, a small blush evident on his cheeks as you pressed his face against your chest. The man was asleep in seconds as you massaged his scalp, and pressed kisses to his head.

B=Body Part(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

On himself, he likes his arms. Despite not having the best confidence in himself, he knows he can depend on his strength, whether it be to protect or please you.

On you, he loves your neck and thighs. Though he’ll never admit it out loud, he loves leaving marks on both spots. Especially on your thighs. There’s just something about biting and sucking on such sensitive areas that drives him crazy and makes him want to leave more than intended.

---

Your legs were starting to cramp from how long he’d been holding them on top of his shoulders. Even so, it was undeniable that Genya was enjoying himself and taking his time leaving hickies on your plump thighs. Despite the awkward position, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him because of how good his teeth felt on your skin. With a small tug on his hair, his dark eyes met yours with a hint of concern. A hum escaped your throat as you nudged his face closer to your entrance with a blush. Red enveloped his cheeks before pulling your hips closer to his face. This man was truly gonna be the death of you.

C=Cum

Most of the time, on your stomach or back. There’s something about making a mess of you that makes him go feral. Half the time, it’s what gets him going for another round.

However, every once in a while, he’ll release inside you and watch in awe as his cum seeps out. You always giggle a bit at his fascination with the staring, but you love it either way. You love seeing him go crazy from it, even if you end up walking funny later.

---

“Enjoying the view, love?”

Genya jolted a bit at the comment before muttering an apology.

“Don’t say sorry. I like it too.”

“Ah.. good to know.”

D=Dirty Secret

There’s not much Genya will keep from you, after all he promised to always be honest. However, he has had thoughts of you taking control over him more than usual. I.E. tying down his hands and feet while you have your way with him. Watching you ride him time and time again always gets his heart racing and his imagination running wild.

One other secret is the fact he likes it up the ass. How he found out was by pure accident. He was on top of you when your hand traveled down his back to grab his ass cheek and a couple of your fingers dipped into his hole. He didn’t even think you realized what you were doing considering how tight your grip was on his plump ass. Afterward when he happened to be on a solo mission, he reached down and tried it for himself. Let’s just say his face was beet red after. Overtime, he’s been working up the courage to ask you about it, but he gets too flustered by the time you’re in front of him. One day he’ll tell you. Hopefully.

E=Experience(how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

This is Genya we’re talking about, the man blushes whenever he interacts with girls period. He was surprised with being able to pull you for himself. Once you had reached that critical point in your relationship where you two were getting a little too touchy, he was embarrassed to admit he’d never had sex before. But you didn’t blame him. Being in the Demon Slayer Corps didn’t grant either of you time to have that pleasure, even if it was for yourselves. However, the first time you two had sex was truly a once in a lifetime experience.

---

“Um, Genya?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Can.. Can you kiss me for a minute? Please?”

His only response was to stare then place his lips on yours and rest his hips on yours. A moan hummed in your throat as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips. You felt one of his calloused palms cradle your face as the kiss became more passionate. Even knowing how strong he was, it made your heart swell with how gentle he was with you.

A few minutes later, you whispered his name and pulled away, cradling his face.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He simply nodded with a small smile then pecked your lips once more.

F=Favorite Position

You might as well be asking him to choose between you and his favorite meal. He can never truly pick a favorite position; however, he does have a top three:

1) Cowgirl

2) Missionary

3) Upstanding Citizen[basically fucking you against the wall]

He does have a weak spot for doggystyle, especially when he’s got a lot of energy and his confidence is higher than usual. He feels bad when you can’t feel your legs after, but you have no qualms or objection when he’s rougher. It’s a big turn on actually.

---

This was the third round, and you two were just getting started. You had been separated for almost a month due to a really important mission he was assigned. Shinobu had just released him from the hospital as most of his injuries were healed. Your grip on his hair was almost terrifying as he held your thighs open and thrusted into you, pressing you back against the wooden wall. His face was buried into your neck with your head arched back.

“O-Oh! God, Genya… Right there!”

“Fuck…! I missed you so much, baby..”

His teeth attached themselves to your throat, causing a loud moan to echo through the room.

You had a lot of catching up to do.

G=Goofy(are they serious all the time or will they make you laugh?)

Genya has always been a serious man, just like his brother. That includes when you’re having sex.

But every once in a while, he’ll end up making you giggle while trying to be all stoic. It’s unintended, of course. However, if it makes you happy, he won’t mind. Your laugh is the music to his ears.

---

“Heh.. G-Genya…” you utter out as you try not to laugh at the state of his wild hair nearly covering his eyes.

“Ah shit..” he cursed at himself as he tried to fix the mop of hair, slightly irritated he didn’t tie it up.

“It’s… It’s okay, love.. Pfft, r-really..”

“But you’re laughing!”

“Because it’s adorable!”

“I’m not supposed to be adorable, damnit!”

A laugh erupted from your chest as you held your stomach. You truly didn’t mean it, but his flustered attempts to make himself all serious for your sake was a bit comical. Genya made a move to get up with a huff but you grabbed his arm and pulled him into your embrace with a giggle.

“I promise it’s okay. I love it when you’re like this. You don’t have to be perfect for me. I love you for you.”

A small blush rushed to his cheeks before he pouted in defeat and muttered “Thanks..”

H=Hair(are they well-groomed?)

Even before he met you, he always made it a rule to keep himself well kept and clean. He’s an overall clean person despite his condition to consume demons. Genya keeps himself trimmed and well-groomed, though there are times he completely shaved off all the hair.

On you; however, he could care less if you were as smooth as a baby’s bum or as hairy as a bush, it won’t keep his oral fixation down. He’ll eat you out till you crush his head and suffocate him. ‘A hell of a way to die’ as Sanemi put it.

I=Intimacy(how are they in the moment?)

Considering how touch-starved he was when you two started seeing each other, the ‘intimacy’ was nonexistent to him. Slowly, you introduced him to it through holding his fingers and gently massaging his scalp. He practically fell asleep the first time he laid in your lap as you messed with his hair.

When it comes to sex, it came naturally to him. Simply from watching you be gentle with him of all things. Pressing his forehead to yours. Holding your hand. Checking in to make sure you’re okay. Hell, running his hands along your body to massage the aches out of your muscles. He loves doing it. He needs to be as close to you as physically possible.

J=Jack-Off(do they masturbate often?)

Genya can be a bit prideful, but not overly prideful. He understands his body has needs. But it doesn’t mean he’ll masturbate every single time. This is a man trained to be in control and calm at all times.

He won’t get himself off unless it’s truly unbearable. And even then, he tries to restrain himself until he’s with you again. He’s almost always in danger, he’d rather take his chances waiting for you. He cherishes every moment he spends with you.

K=Kink

Overall, Genya isn’t too kinky. He likes to keep things simple. The kinks he does have are truly stimulating.

1) Breeding Kink - This one is pretty obvious considering he loves watching his cum leak out of you. The thought of you being full with his kids isn’t a common thought, but a very tempting one.

2) Biting/Marking Kink - Another obvious one, afterall he leaves hickies all over your thighs, shoulders, and neck. Simply put: if someone sees them, it simply means ‘fuck off, she’s taken’ to any potential single man.

3) Choking Kink - When I mean choking kink, I mean it very mildly. Sometimes, he simply likes to hold onto your throat while he fucks you. However, he makes it a point for you to tell him if he’s squeezing you too much. Which thankfully hasn’t happened. Like I said, this guy has a lot of control over his strength.

4) Slight Manhandling Kink - In simple terms, he likes to hold your hands above your head and even toss you a bit. But only if you’re comfortable with it. This one is very slight as it only happens when he really needs to get his energy, and even frustration, out.

L=Location(where do they like to have sex?)

Genya prefers to keep your sex lives in the bedroom. It’s the most private you guys can get and he wants to keep it that way. And again, he has a lot of self-control. You, on the other hand, have tested his patience a couple times.

There was only one time he fucked you outside the comfort of your bedroom. You two had a couple of drinks, and you thought it would be a good idea to tease him. He proceeded to fuck you behind a tree. He won’t admit it out loud, but it was a little fun.

M=Motivation(what turns them on, gets them going?)

He doesn’t need too much motivation when it comes to you. Just say the word and he’ll have you on your back in seconds. Then again, Genya always makes it a point to ask you if you were sure. Your consent is all he needs.

N=NO(something they will not do)

Genya will absolutely never inflict any pain on you. Too many people in this world suffer in pain every day. When he wants to have sex with you, he wants both of you to feel good. Period.

Despite it happening once, Genya is still firm in his belief to keep your sex lives in the bedroom. No one else needs to see you two in such a vulnerable position.

O=Oral(giving or receiving?are they good at it?)

When I tell you this man has an oral fixation, it’s almost always like he’s dying of thirst. He is a natural giver. Want you to sit on his face 24/7. Half the time you guys get intimate, it consists mostly of Genya with his face between your legs. There is a reason he has a strong jaw and sense of taste. Sometimes he gets a little ahead of himself and overstimulates you. But you love it. It just requires a small break in between rounds sometimes.

When it comes to receiving oral from you; however, Genya turns into an absolute blushing, blubbering mess. Tries not to cum too quickly, but you don’t mind. In fact, you try to get him to release a few times from your hands and mouth before actualling fucking. It’s when you use your tongue that truly drives him insane. Like he’s fisting your hair and almost throat fucking you(poor baby always worries about hurting you tho).

---

Delicate fingers tug on Genya’s hair as his tongue laps up your folds, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. This was your third go around and the stimulation was starting to overwhelm your senses. He was always so insatiable when it came to tasting you. His grip on your hips and thighs were the only thing keeping you steady as you sat atop his face. You really wanted to treat him as well, but he refused to accept the praise until you’ve cum on his tongue at least four times. Truly vigorous this man.

“Genya….” You moaned and whimpered as your hips moved back and forth against his mouth.

“Fuck.. Fuck me, you taste amazing.” he mumbled on your folds

If this was heaven, he wanted to stay forever.

P=Pace(are they fast and rough? or slow and sensual?)

It really depends. Most of the time, he wants to take his time with you. Passionate and sensual is the definition of a perfect night for you two.

On days he’s feeling extra spicy, he won’t hesitate to fuck the shit out of you. He will hold your hips so hard there will be handprints on your skin later. I’m talking there will be accessories and decorations shattered on the floor. Clothes? Torn to shreds. Furniture? Will be broken and replaced

Side Note: He feels embarrassed afterward and worries if he hurt you, but you’re a giggling mess. So, you just hold onto him and tell him you like that side of him. He blushes and accepts the affection.

Q=Quickie

Pretty much nonexistent. Like I said, this man does not like having sex with you out in the open. The time behind the tree was a one time thing.

Aside from the obvious, he doesn’t just want to pull you into some closet like a dirty secret. He wants to caress you, hold you, and kiss you as if it’s his last night on earth.

R=Risk

Don’t need to reiterate. He will not risk anything that includes exposing or hurting either of you. You are the most important person in his life[aside from Sanemi] and that is all anyone needs to know.

S=Stamina(how many rounds can they go?)

Remember how I mentioned he prefers to have you cum on his tongue at least four times before the main event?Yeah, that doesn’t even count.

It’ll start out slow and sensual like usual, but he’s rubbing your clit half the time. He likes it when you two finish together. This can go for three rounds without breaks.

He’ll clean you up with his tongue, but not to overstimulate you. He just really likes to eat you out.

The last two to three rounds, he gets a bit excited and thrusts with more passion than before. He’ll cum before you do but he’ll keep going until you cum one more time.

Overall, he can last about five to six rounds. Even on days he’s tired. He will not stop until you are satisfied.

T=Toys[modern headcanon]

Personally, I believe he would have a small collection of toys. A couple vibrators[for both you and himself], dildos[mainly for him ;)], and some handcuffs and rope. We all know he secretly likes it up the ass.

U=Unfair(do they tease you? do they like to be teased?)

Genya doesn’t necessarily like to tease you. He sees no point to it as he simply wants to please you, not torment you.

As for himself, he doesn’t care for it. He won’t mind if you tease him a little bit, but he’s grateful you don’t. You will please each other till kingdom come.

V=Volume(how loud are they during sex)

Genya isn’t too loud. He mainly grunts and groans in your ear. However, if you touch and scratch him in the right places, he’ll whimper fairly loudly. You can’t help but smirk a bit from it, but you never bring it up since it’ll embarrass him.

W=Wild Card

This is mostly circumstantial as it pertains to the type of demon he’s consumed. His demonic abilities fade away within hours; however, there were a few times the demons he ate affected his tongue.

Long story short, the demon had a forked tongue. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t affect him, but for some reason, this time it did. The morning Genya came back from his mission, he woke you up with a bit of a surprise. You were louder than usual as he tongued you. Having a forked tongue inside was a whole different experience. Apparently, Genya forgot all about it and was just going along with it out of habit.

X=X-Ray

Genya is a big guy. Bigger than his older brother[who denies it]. It’s safe to say he’s on the bigger spectrum overall.

He’s five and a half inches soft and almost seven inches when hard. He’s mostly long and a bit veiny. One vein runs along the underside of his dick, which is sensitive when you glide your tongue along it.

Y=Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive was nonexistent before he met you. After though? He wishes he could have you 24/7. But he doesn’t show it, he’s a gentleman after all. He must show he has self-control around you.

Z=Zzz(how fast do they fall asleep afterward?)

After making sure both of you have been taken care of, Genya almost always falls asleep right away. The sex plus all the fighting and training that comes with being a Demon Slayer takes a toll on his mind and body. So, the fact he can sleep in the arms of the person he loves is all he can ask for at the end of the day.

---

The soft snores from your lover’s lips were music to your ears as you ran your fingers along his back up to his scalp. A smile spread across your face before closing your eyes and humming.

“I love you, Genya… More than you’ll ever know.”

_____

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#genya shinazugawa #genya smut #genya x reader #demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #genya shinazugawa x reader #smut

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cremedensada · 9 months ago

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Yandere fem demon who has been trying to tempt you to sinning. Dragging you to shops and boutiques, highly amused when you insist everything she's been trying to get you in has been pretty revealing.

Yandere demon who uses her body to further tempt you. A flirty look here, a lingering touch there - she's pulled out all the stops.

But why weren't you at the very least tempted? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy.

Yandere demon who, while busying herself with seducing a different human, finds herself cornered. It's fine, she's a demon anyway, she'll let these stupid humans think she's fragile and shit.

But you arrive just before she slits their throats - courageously demanding they leave her alone. Brave despite the croak in your voice, and the shaking of your hands. You successfully drew the assailants' interests, abandoning her in favor of you.

In a sudden surge of unnamed emotion, she uses her powers to kill the assailants swiftly before any of them could touch you.

Yandere demon who, cradled in your embrace, figures this is the time to get you. In a way, it's a perfect set up, isn't it? A damsel in distress (not really) being saved by a hero. It's only fair she rewards you for your deeds, right? Surely you would never turn down her offer.

Yandere demon who, before she can voice out her thanks, finds the words disappearing at the tip of her tongue. Looking at your terrified expression, panicked and blubbering out words of concern and apologies.

What were you apologizing for? You didn't know something like this would happen. She's used to this.

Yandere demon who gets stunned as you shouted in frustration when she voiced out her thoughts with nonchalance. Staring at you in awe and surprise as you, frustratedly, insisted how it's exactly the reason why you're sorry.

Why?

You know she's got a reputation, she's beautiful - of course that'll get people's attention. And some people aren't so nice with trying to get her attention on them.

You don't know she's a demon, or that she's befriended you just so she can doom you to sinning. But she did befriend you.

"I care about you. Do I need any more reasons to make sure you don't get hurt?"

A sudden spike in her heartbeat, a flush of her cheeks (demons are actually capable of blushing? Who knew - certainly not her). Touched by your declaration.

You have no clue what you've just made her feel.

Yandere demon who still takes you to boutiques, urging you to wear the clothes she picked out for you. They're less revealing now, but still stylish - which you appreciate. The clothes are nice, but you were never here for them anyway.

You aren't allowed to wear anything remotely revealing anymore. Not if she can help it. Every single inch of your skin is for her to see. Every single part of you is hers.

Constantly hanging around with you, arms linked and touching you. Your popularity spikes the more the two of you are seen together - simple cause and effect.

She kills the people showing open interest towards you - also simple cause and effect.

Yandere demon who abandoned her duties as a demon tempting mortals to sin, in favor of attending to you. For your affection. You care for her, remember? You made that declaration.

Yandere demon who, in a way, got her plans with you fulfilled. She's doomed you, as she intended. Not to eternal damnation - but to herself.

this is so all over the place but i needed to write her immediately. shes invading my thoughts get her out!!!!!

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #yandere scenarios #gn reader #gender neutral reader #tw allusions to being cornered and almost assaulted??#female yandere

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sitepathos · 2 months ago

Note

What if on the night of our death Alfred really did come back. Like perhaps a feeling or an urge to return before his vacation was up feeling that something was happening something bad. And he discovers us missing from the manor and found out the others got a ransom call but brushed it off. Would it change the current events , if so what happens ?

Look, if you were to say Alfred has the Meta Gene, I’d believe it. Honestly, that would explain how he’s strong enough to carry all of Wayne Manor and the Batfamily on his back. Batman is called the Greatest Detective in the World, but Alfred is the true holder of the title. He can tell something’s wrong with you just by seeing how you walk and trust me, nothing escapes his gaze.

Anyway, let’s just say he decided to come home the night you’re kidnapped. And oh boy, does shit get real.

In this scenario, he gets back sometime after the Bats left the cave, which was just after the phone call. The moment he walks through that door, he knows something is wrong right away. You’ve heard of Spider Senses, well, this is Alfred Senses and when something is wrong in his house, he knows it instantly, be it something breaking, a mess, or something concerning a family member.

And as he’s able to track all of the Bats on the Batcomputer in the Cave, he knows something has a happened to you and he can feel a few years being shaved off his life. While he’s pulling up your location on the computer, he sees the house recently received a call from an unknown number and when he listens to the recording (I’m positive Bruce records every call made to and from the landlines), his heart stops altogether.

And when he sees the number came from a burner phone, meaning there’s no way of tracking it, he loses it, beating himself up for leaving when he knew the family wouldn’t give you the proper attention and care. Luckily for him, your phone is still active and broadcasting your location, giving him a sliver of hope.

The signal is coming from My Alibi, meaning you’re probably surrounded by thugs. And with the Bats busy looking for Joker, that means he’s on his own.

When I say this man has an arsenal of firearms that would make Jason jealous, it’s no exaggeration. He puts on a bulletproof vest, loads up with his trusty shotgun, multiple pistols, and a dozen different kind of grenades, and drives off in his car like a bat out of hell (pun intended). I mean, this man would make John Wick afraid for his life.

When he gets there, he’s ready to wage war on everyone in that building and raze it to the ground. He storms in there, ready to shoot at the first person to look at him funny, but is greeted by a total massacre; everyone in the building is dead.

He finally locates the source of the slaughter: a figure in black armor cornering three men in the back of the bar. He watches in awe as the figure kills the man he’s holding by the neck before swiftly killing the other two, leaving only him and this creature.

When it turns, he raises his shotgun, ready to fill it full of lead—

“Alfred,” it says in a familiar voice. That’s when the armor disappears, revealing you, staring at him in total shock. “Why are you here?”

“Master Y/N,” he whispers, quickly lowering his weapon for fear of it accidentally going off and hurting you.

The entire time, he feared for your life, afraid that by the time he reached you, he’d find you dead and he would have to go through another funeral for one of his grandchildren. But, here you are, alive and unharmed.

It doesn’t matter that you just slaughtered all the bar’s patrons, everyone in here was common scum and the world is better off without them.

He takes a step towards you, wanting nothing more than to take you in his arms and never let go, to bring you back to the manor and put this awful night behind both of you.

That’s when you turn sprout a pair of wings and burst through the ceiling, flying away from him as fast as you can, you face horrified that the man you love and respect more than anyone else in the world has just seen you murder over a dozen people in a single evening.

#ask #yandere batfamily #from gold to mold

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jujutsukgojo · 3 months ago

Text

The Baby Project

chapter two

izuku midoriya x reader

Summary:

U.A. decides that raising a fake baby is a good lesson for the future heroes and paired third year classes A and B with a general studies class. When you get stuck with a dead beat, Izuku Midoriya comes to save the day and your grade.

tw: Dead beat parents, sexual harassment (no details), idk if there's anything else?

The baby project is the worst thing to have happened at U.A. At least for you and the rest of your General Studies class that the ‘heroes’ decided to sacrifice for their favored course.

“Is this punishment?”

The teacher, Snipe, shakes his head. “No, no it’s not.”

“You sure? Is it because of my last assignment?” Your previous assignment was honest and not popular. Snipe didn’t like what you had to say about heroes. The only thing you regret is that it was almost a hundred slides and you had to hold the class hostage in order to finish it. It was so bad that some of the other teachers had to save them. What were you supposed to do? You worked hard on your presentation and by God, somebody is going to learn from it. It was a solid assignment that you ended up passing, much to your amazement.

“It’s not punishment. You’re helping them. They’re about to be sent out there and need that last bit of guidance.” You scoff at your teacher. Are you even going to be graded for this since it is all for them? Then, a thought enters.

“This is because of Endeavor, right?” The room is filled with tension at your referral. What did they expect? It’s the truth. Because of the Todoroki Family’s fiasco, U.A. has decided to help prevent that from happening again in its own way: by giving robotic babies. Not to mention it is at your expense.

“ Toots!” Your friend, Ema, hisses. You just shrug and mouth ‘what?’.

“Yes.” Your eyebrows raise at Snipe’s honesty. “And why are we sacrificed? We’re younger than they are. Let the elderly go first. Just as nature intended.”

Snipe rubs his face. “Why are you so-no, you’re not being sacrificed. It’s a new assignment that everyone’s doing. My class is just paired up with them.”

“ Why?" How are you the only one with questions? There is so much unfairness here!

“Will you stop?” A girl with bright red hair and reptilian eyes frowns at you. What’s her name again? Sakura or something? “It’s happening, there’s no use fighting it.”

You sigh and glare at her and your homeroom teacher.

“Try to get excited. This is the first time U.A. is doing this and you get to set the standard! Think of names and schedules,” He goes from being behind his podium to sitting on the desk in front of it.

“And time, and sleep, and food-” He interrupts you. “This is new technology, too! This little thing feels, looks, and acts like a real baby. It literally grows and responds as time goes on.”

The boy with shiny silver hair and four eyes tilts his head. You think his name is Jule? That’s how you’ve always referred to him as and was never corrected. “How old do we have to raise it to be?”

Your debate is slowly turning into excitement about the project. A baby to hold and raise. That grows and you’ll be the first at U.A. to do it. You’ll have future pro heroes as the other parent. Not just any of them, the golden class. Class A and B, the ones who fought in wars and defeated the greatest evil. That year alone goes down in history. Your peers still stand in awe as they walk past them in the hallways as do a lot of the school.

“Depends on your achievements. The better parent you are, the bigger it gets. Hatsume is the one who made them. For all we know, you guys could raise teenagers,” He turns his head towards you. “And get a taste of your own medicine.”

“I’d be an excellent parent. I’m just not sure about heroes.”

He points at you. “Keep playing. I dare you.” His threat earns a couple of chuckles in the class and even a smile that you try to fight.

Riko, a girl a few rows away from you, bounces in her seat. “Who do we get?”

“See? Be like Riko.” He gestures to her but stares dead at you. He has always been the teacher that tries to be personal and familiar and use first names. It’s refreshing since you’re so used to using first names anyway.

“Why are you picking with me…” You whine.

“Because you don’t listen.” You scoff when Ema hums in agreement. “Traitor.” You grumble.

“Mr. Snipe! Who are we getting?” Riko asks again. You are not surprised to see all of these people be thrilled about it. You raise your hand.

“ What.” Snipe taps his foot, already tired and the day just started. “Is this going to get in the way of school or is this project not during class hours?”

“I forgot about that…” Riko sinks into her seat. Other complaints echo off the walls. Small voices finally decide to ask the right questions. Repeating yours, about finances, hero schedules, are we allowed to go into each other's dorms (of course, that was by Riko).

“This is all up to you. Now, they’ll be coming here soon. We’ll draw names then.”

“What does that mean? How is it up to us?”

Benio turns to you and says, “He means if we raise it right, it won’t go off. Depending on how good of a parent you are, kind of thing.”

You slump in your seat with growing stress. It’s going to grow. You’re not being graded on how much it cries or something like you did in middle school. No, this is like reality. Because of the hero course, you’re going to be somebody’s baby mama.

“I hope I get Deku…” Ema says to herself and sports a light blush. She’s always been an Izuku Midoriya fan for as long as you’ve known her, which hasn’t been for very long. After the big showdown, he only had embers of whatever the hell the quirk was. Over time, he trained those embers to make them stronger and to be his own. No ghost guidance or whatever and a bad history attached. He was no longer All Might Jr., but Deku. Considered a hero in his own right. Plus, that new suit he got made him a hit among those who liked Batman or other comics.

At least that’s how you took the explanation? You're probably forgetting something but if you ask Ema, she’d go on and on. There aren't enough hours in a day for that.

“I want Todoroki!” Riko squeals and bounces up and down in her seat. You can’t help yourself. “Girl, that’s dangerous.”

“Making fun of what he’s been through isn’t funny.” Benio, a normal high schooler who is firm in his convictions, rebukes. You turn to him and look into his gold eyes.

“I’m not. I’m simply saying that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Plus, it’s also the reason for this assignment, right Snipe?”

Your teacher looks up at you. He’s trying to make it seem that it is to benefit both courses but it’s just not. Not when this whole thing is caused by Endeavor and Touya. Clearly, U.A. is doing this for them, not for General Studies. He even said so. There is nothing for you here other than to train the future pros to be better parents so there wouldn't be another League.

“Yes. It is also a new program that we’re trying whether you like it or not. It benefits everyone.” Snipe ends short. "What about necessities? Food, money, diapers, all of that. Do we buy our own or do you provide?"

You hate how you have to ask these questions. "U.A. has its own formula, bottles, and diapers. Due to it being mechanical, there's no way normal things would work."

"Do we pay for them?" Snipe nods slowly. Before you can complain again, the door opens and the veteran hero, Eraserhead, enters the room with his students. The future pros stand in line. The majority of them have smiling faces for their juniors. Some are blank. Since the big showdown, they have all grown. Taller, wider, buffer, smarter, all of it. It’s insane to think they were little twerps before.

“Where’s Deku?” Ema asks as she looks at all of them. Her pure black eyes survey the future pros. “He’s away right now! He’s training with his new suit, so he’ll be gone for a bit. But you have me!” Kaminari or Calamari whatever the fuck it is, smirks at her.

“No thanks.” You snort at her look of disgust. Lips curled, brows furrowed and she’s leaning back like she saw vomit.

“Ouch.”

Hatsume enters the large classroom with a wagon in tow. All of the babies are of different colors and sizes. Some are very petite and others have rolls. They look like your average baby doll.

“Now class, listen up. We’ll draw names and to fit two parents together then you’ll get an assigned baby. We’ll provide birth certificates and activate the kid.”

There is a feeling in your gut that this will not go well. You don’t mean to put it in the atmosphere at all. Since you’re stuck with this dumb thing, you hope you are wrong.

“Benio with Yaoyorozu.” You hear a curse under someone’s breath. He gets up and walks to your teacher for his baby. Benio and Yaoyorozu receive a normal sized baby. Benio quickly supports the head. In Yaoyorozu’s hand is the certificate wanting a name for it and their parent’s signature.

The door opens again and a hero course student from Class B walks in. If you remember right, he’s the drill guy. Someone who can turn his body really fast or something. He scratches his head and gives a short wave to the class. “Ah, there weren't enough students from the other General Studies.”

“Alright, you and (Y/n).” You get up and go to the front to get your project. Mei hands it to you, not the future hero, and gives you the paper as well. You support the chubby baby’s head. Like your average doll, it has plastic skin and blank open eyes. You go back to your seat and wait for him. He stands there awkwardly. “Um, come with me.”

“Why?” There are enough chairs for him, you note as you look around. Benio’s desk is empty. Snipe sighs. “(Y/n), go with him.”

“Why? This classroom is huge. He can sit down.”

“( Y/n), go.” Snipe points to the door. Slowly, you get up and head for the door, glaring at your teacher. You follow the drill guy closely. He opens the Class B room. You sit down and wait for him to follow you. Now that he’s next to you, he introduces himself.

“I’m Sen Kaibara. Your name’s (Y/n)?” He has a small smile on his face. His eyes study you closely. You nod at his question. “Let’s get down to it.” You open the baby’s diaper and see that it’s a boy. “It’s a bouncing baby boy.” There are faint red spots on his legs. They aren’t bumps or anything. Maybe the diaper is too tight. You quickly close it before he pees on you.

“Okay, what should we name him?” You have a few in mind. However, he also has a say in them and he probably won’t like them. Everything’s fine as long as the little boy has a name you can say and spell. Sen taps his chin and his eyes dart around. He snaps his fingers and asks, “How about my name?”

“No. And nothing I can’t pronounce, either.” He scoffs. “You’re not giving me a chance.”

“Neither are you. Something that we can both write and pronounce.” That’s it. In the end, that’s what you want. And for him not to be a junior.

The two of you decided on Noa, much to his annoyance. Clearly, you don’t get along. Not when it’s like this. All you asked was a simple thing. Yes, you can say Sen. But it doesn’t fit the baby. Yes, he can have a say so in the name. You only wanted a name you can spell and pronounce that doesn’t involve ‘junior’. It’s a name that both of you agreed with and is simple.

To you, it wasn’t difficult or a lot to ask for. To him, he’s red in the face as he turns it in. It was a simple disagreement. Why is he frowning so much? Snipe looks it over. “Ah, Noa? Nice name.”

Noa begins to get fussy. You look him over to see what’s wrong. You gasp at your discovery. His face changed from a baby doll look to one of an actual baby. His face is a mixture of yours and Kaibara’s. Honestly, mainly yours. Your eyes and mouth, especially. His plastic skin becomes soft like it's real and his weight now settles in. He looks and feels real.

“That’s normal. Everything changes in time.”

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

Unfortunately, things do change. Right as you adjust Noa so you are able to write, he freaks. Everyone’s head turns to you. Ema, God bless her, soothes you as you try to do the same to Noa. It’s crazy, you’ve baby sat before and aren’t bad with kids or babies. Yet with Noa you’re all thumbs.

“Bounce him gently. Do you have a bo-bo?” You snap your head. “A what?”

You can barely hear her over Noa's shrill cry. He shakes as he continues to wail. She shifts awkwardly. “A binky. A pacifier. It’s what we’ve always called it.”

“I’m really irritated right now so usually I’d like, stab you or something but that’s cute.”

Ema holds in a laugh. “Thank you for your generosity.” Mr. Snipe calls your name. “I know, I know! He won’t calm down.”

He sighs. “The bag we gave you has some supplies in it. The school’s formula, a bottle, a set of diapers, pamphlet all of that. Try different things,” He addresses the class. “Learn from this everyone. Plus, the items in the bag are samples. You’re going to have to do what you can by yourself.”

You set the diaper bag between your knees and unzip it. Inside are the supplies Snipe mentioned. His screams get louder. Suddenly, another baby follows suit, awoken by Noa. Jule immediately glares at you. You mutter several apologies and fumble the silver formula packet which is surprisingly in a liquid form.

Your fingers shake whether from stress or the bouncing you're doing with your whole body, totally dedicated to the rhythm. You pour the contents in the red and white bottle to shake it. Putting it in his mouth, he refuses to suckle.

“W-what?” You look at Snipe confused. He taps his foot and crosses his arms. Jule’s baby is quiet now, abruptly stops by your amazement. “How?” Jule shows you the bottle. “She’s hungry. Is Noa not-”

“Let her deal with it.” Snipe sighs. Riko frowns. “Doesn’t it take a village to raise a child?”

“Not for this project, no.” She sits up straighter. “Don’t you think you should be more patient? This was bound to happen.”

“You,” He points to you. “Outside so we can continue class.”

“Fucking asshole.”

“Watch it.”

You struggle to stand up without dropping him or anything else. Ema, bless her once more Lord, comes in and helps you with your things. You make haste to exit the classroom that is growing increasingly annoyed.

You try to feed him once again and when that doesn’t work, you set him on the ground to check his diaper. The redness is still there but he is dry. Throwing your hands in the air, you give up and head to Kaibara’s class. You don’t even bother to knock since literally everyone can hear you coming a mile away.

“Kaibara?” The class looks at you with their hero uniforms on. “Can you try? Nothing I’m doing is working.”

“I’m busy. I’ll visit later, okay? Try putting on a movie or singing to him or something. I gotta go.” He leaves you standing in the middle of his classroom.

“In the middle of school? Put on a movie in the middle of class?” You scoff and move in front of him, preventing him from walking away. Some of his classmates look at the two of you. You notice that not a single one of them have their babies. Their teacher, Dracula or something, pauses his speech and eyes you. “Kaibara, handle this as a father would. Alright class, let’s go.”

“Kaibara-” He cuts you off with a short response. “Not now.” He rushes past you to join and laugh with his friends as Noa continues to cry. Dracula pats your shoulder and apologizes.

______________

You decide to rock him rather than bounce. Soon after, he begins to quiet down, making you want to scream in his place. The bottle in your hand beeps. You look at it and see the word ‘spoiled’ on it with Hatsume’s face on it with a peace sign.

Still rocking him, you set your bag down on the ground to get a better look inside it to see how much you have. “No…” That was the only formula packet. Sighing, you pick it up and carefully rise up, with your knees cracking every inch. You head to the support course and walk inside. Power Loader is about to scold you for not knocking but stops himself immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“I need more formula, please.” Hatsume pops up out of nowhere. If you had the energy, you’d punch her for everything she’s ever done to you.

“Let me see, let me see!” She moves your arm enough to look at him. “Ah, he hasn’t grown; tsk, tsk.” You literally just got him. Like, a couple of hours ago.

“Give me the formula.”

She sighs and shows you a set of packets and tells you the price. Your jaw drops. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yep, yep! Hand it over.” Regular formula is half the price and she’s handing you six packets. One per bottle. “Is one packet for one bottle?”

“Preferably. If you water it down then the baby isn’t getting the nutrients. Don’t try to skimp on my baby, little baby!”

The door behind you opens and shuts. Benio comes to your side. “She keeps throwing up, is your formula faulty?”

Hatsume twitches. “ No! These are based on real babies and not every baby can have the same formula.”

She, again out of nowhere, brings out a pink pouch. “Specialized!” You’re about to have a heart attack when she tells him how much his is. It’s even more than yours. “Fine. I’ll take four cases.”

Ah, that’s right. His parents make a lot of money, and his stipend is more than yours. Because you are a scholarship kid, your amount is lower. No one has told you by how much, though.

Embarrassed, you put up two fingers. She hands them to you and is gracious enough to place them in the diaper bag. Your eyes are downcast.

“Everything’ll be okay.” Hatsume says. You don’t ask what the money is for even though you are curious.

While you're here, you speak up to Noa's demonic creator. Ever since you got him, his groin has been red and irritated. You want to smack yourself when you finally piece together that he has a rash.

"Is there something wrong with the diapers? He's terribly red ever since it was put on him." You hand him over to her and she places him on a clear spot on her desk. "Ah, he's allergic! Good thing I have something for tha-"

"Special diapers?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "Why didn't you let me finish?"

"Let me buy them, please." You see the box of diapers in her hand. Already your stomach is in knots. Strangely, she looks into your eyes without a smile. No expression on her face. It looks like she's focused on you. "Are you okay?"

You nod and hum. It doesn't feel right to let this bother you.

"Here's some samples. Let me know if they work, okay?" She hands you three blue diapers. Unlike the regular ones that have the U.A. design on them, this one is pure blue with the U.A. emblem on the top. You don't realize it until you quickly change Noa and see the redness start to fade. Your eyes are watery. Not to the point of tears rolling out but close enough that Mei cared.

You clear your throat. "I'll um, let you know. If they work, I'll buy some more."

___________________________

Sitting at your usual lunch table with Ema, Benio, and Riko, you struggle to eat your lunch one handed. The other is occupied with holding Noa. Luckily, he is peacefully sleeping.

“You should really get a carrier or a wrap. It’ll be much easier.” Ema, who got Kirishima, eats her piece of chicken. New voices are loud enough to gain your table’s attention.

“Mm! Gotta go. We promised we’d sit together for the sake of our daughter.” She gets up and leaves you in awe of her communication skills. “I wish that were me. I can’t Yaoyorozu to sit still.”

“I don’t even want to.” Riko says. You forgot who she got but her forlorn face clearly says it’s not Todoroki.

“Not many of them even carry their kids. Like, Kirishima is the first I’ve seen.” You point to him sitting next to Ema. She didn’t get Midoriya like she wanted. Nevertheless, she got one of the better ones out of the bunch. In fact, he’s bragging about her. Showing everyone his daughter like a real proud father.

“Damn it…” You mutter. Searching around the cafeteria, you say, “I can’t even see Kaibara. Maybe we should exchange numbers. I have to tell him that Noa can't have the regular diapers.”

“You don't have his number?” You shake your head no. Riko frowns and rocks her carrier. “(Y/n)! That's, like, the first thing you should do.”

“I know, I know. He ignores me, though! Today I couldn’t console Noa. So, I went to him for help and he totally blew me off. He didn’t even look at him. Like Benio over here, I cannot get this guy to sit still.”

“Try again. If I can get her to cough it up, you can too.” He finishes his plate fast. Benio rhythmically taps his foot. His eyes focus on the table, clearly pissed off. You want to reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. That she’ll come around and you are in this together. Right now, he’s at the stage where he’ll snap at anyone and you prefer to live.

“You guys are so lucky. I got stuck with a creep.” That can only be one person. You gasp. “That grape dude? He’s still alive?” You didn’t even see him in class. It was probably the Lord doing that.

“Yep,” She pops her ‘p’. She pushes her broccoli around. Riko tenses up and her bottom lip sticks out slightly. “All I get are innuendos. I want to meet up? He’ll flirt and suggest another child. I don’t feel safe at all.” She mumbles. Your protective instincts start to flare up. It’s not normal for you to feel this way, either. How could he do this? Yes, she’s smart and pretty. But that doesn’t mean jack crap. Being disgusting towards her is wrong. Where are his morals? She isn't interested. She said no!

“If you want to have supervised visits, I’ll be happy to be there. Make it into a play date sort of thing.” It isn't much to offer but at least it's out there. Her lips wobble as she smiles at you. “I would like that, please.”

“Has it gotten that bad already? The project just started.” Benio rubs her back. “Yeah, already. He keeps blowing up my phone. I got in trouble for it in class, remember?” Yeah. English class was a sight when her phone vibrated so much it shook off the desk. The teacher's vein nearly popped due to the interruptions.

“Let me see.” Benio grabs her phone and checks. With every scroll his eyes get wider. “The fuck? We have to tell the teachers.”

“They’ll just say, ‘it’s like real life’.” She mimics their voice. You hold out your hand to reach her. Whatever is on that phone, has made Benio even madder. Steam practically comes out of his ears. “Yeah, but this is sexual harassment. Something that is punishable.”

“Will you go with me?” You and Benio don’t need to be told twice. You spot Kaibara with the red headed big hand girl. You get up and go to him. “I’ll be right back. When I get back, we’ll go directly to Snipe.”

You make your way to him. He laughs and snickers with her, neither one having their baby in hand. “Yo, Kaibara.”

He stops and turns to you. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy right now. I’ve worked hard, I’d like to eat.” You tap your foot and suck your lips in before you speak. “The only thing I see is you jaw jacking and not a single bit of food got in your mouth. All I’m asking for is a minute. I need to talk to you about our baby.”

"Fake baby."

The red head inhales her food. “Mm! That reminds me, I have to go find her. I promised I’d watch the baby.”

“Watch? That’s your kid. You’re not babysitting, you're supposed to be raising.”

She freezes and you turn to Kaibara. “Come on.”

“After that? You broke her.” He grabs her hand and leads her to the rest of Class B. “At least take my number so we can communicate!”

“Later!” He meets up with his friends and Red looks back at me with a guilty look. She lets go of his hand and goes somewhere else.

“Come on, let’s go to Snipe.” You guide Riko up from the table. “What’re you going to him for?” Kaibara miraculously is able to hear you, apparently. He pokes his head up above his friends’ shoulders to peer at you. He goes behind one of them and asks again.

“None of your business,” You snap. Your thumb rubs Riko's hand in an attempt to comfort her. “Come on.” Riko gets up and packs her things while Benio throws everything away. Sen calls out to you again, wondering why you’re going to Snipe. “Later!” You yell.

He really should’ve given his number.

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

You stand in the hallway with Benio. Both of your backs are leaning against the wall. You hear Riko’s muffled voice as well as Eraserhead and Snipe. The three of you called them together and showed them the messages. Benio didn’t see them all and you didn’t see a thing, which is probably for the best. Noa is still sleeping soundly in your arms. His chubby cheek is nestled close to your chest. You shift your weight on your feet and look at Benio from the corner of your eye.

“Do you think they’re giving him an excuse?” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that shit.” Benio snaps. You whip your head towards him. “I’m worried about her, you little bitch. No need to get snappy.”

“I’m worried too. Skank.”

“Pfft!” You snort. For the first time during lunch period, he cracks a small smile. The door opens and you quickly straighten up. Riko comes out first. “Let’s go, you guys.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we’re excused.” You nod and walk with her, Benio and the babies in tow. “What’s going to happen? Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be alright.”

-------

Your arms are becoming numb as you hold Noa. You still don’t have a carrier or the money to afford one. Looking around, everyone is more prepared than you or is just overall better. During lunch, a bunch of them rushed out to buy baby things. Smart bastards.

Noa is squirming more than ever. He isn't crying (yet) but he looks uncomfortable. Maybe it’s gas? You have to document that on your project's papers. Snipe said to write down all the progress, costs, and at the end there will be a written assignment on all of the notes. It's a weird project and clearly an emotional one.

“Sen? Sen?” You go yelling through the hallways of his dorm. Tetsutetsu gets up and goes to you with his baby in his arms. “What’s wrong? I can help.”

“Where is Kaibara?”

“I don’t know. Maybe his room? Is everything okay?” You shake your head no. “No, nothing’s okay. He’s avoiding me and the baby. I need to talk to him.”

Tetsutetsu clenches his fist. “Bet. Follow me.” He goes through the halls demanding to know where he is. Tetsutetsu barges into Kaibara’s room, the door swinging open so hard it now squeaks. He begins to yell, “ Take responsibility!”

“Tetsu, what the hell?” Kaibara shoots up and closes his manga. “You? What’d you do, go to Snipe and have Tetsu on my ass?”

“No, he did that on his own. We need to discuss the baby. Noa needs things and there are times when your schedule works better than mine. There’s so much we need to talk about.” Although a part of you wants to defend yourself for going to Snipe, it isn’t fair to Riko.

“I got this, Tetsu.” Kaibara looks into Tetsutetsu’s eyes. “You better. You and the others are giving us a bad name.”

He leaves and gives you a nod. You shut the door behind him and hand the baby to Kaibara. “Kaibara, meet Noa. Noa, meet your dad.”

“That’s not funny. And it is not right to embarrass me like that!” He holds Noa awkwardly and gives him a weird look, as if he's disgusted or freaked out.

“That’s what you’re worried about? We have a whole child right there-”

“He isn’t real!” He yells, surprisingly, not waking Noa up. Your anger begins to grow. “The costs are real! The necessities are real! The grade is definitely real!”

“Is that what you want? Money?” How the fuck is that what he caught.

“Money? No. I want you to help. I can’t do everything on my own and worry about school. Let’s work on a schedule. Let’s get baby supplies. Communication is amazing, why not do it?”

He brushes past you roughly, pushing you back a little. “Let’s go then.”

The two of you walk to a baby store, passing the many confused and worried expressions. He dips his head into his hoodie. “I should’ve hid my fucking face or something.”

You roll your eyes. “Did it occur to you that they’re staring at us because we’re two teens with a baby?” He scoffs, throwing the door open and doesn’t hold it for you.

“Jerk.”

Inside, are rows of colorful clothes. Some are hero merchandise and others have cartoons. After the various clothing for all ages are bottles, diapers, binkies, and the like. In the back is the gold mine for children: lots and lots of toys.

“What about this?” You hold up a dinosaur shirt. He rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Can you hold him now?”

This is the first time today you don’t have him and you're still taking care of him while your partner is right there. “No. It’s your quality time.”

You put the dinosaur shirt in the cart. Suddenly, Noa screams bloody murder. You turn to Kaibara who’s freaking out. “What the fuck? He just started-”

“Is everything okay?” An employee comes up. Kaibara quickly gives him to you and says, “I gotta go.”

“At least leave some cash!” He turns around and stomps to you.

“Fucking knew it. Here.” He hands you twenty bucks. As he slams the door open and shut, he hides his face. You bounce Noa. “Is there a bathroom or something?”

“Yeah, come with me. Leave the cart.”

In the bathroom, you lower the table. “I fed you, you took a nap, I changed you-”

She looks at his face. "Babies can sense things too, you know?"

You look up at the woman and ask what she meant. "Children can tell how a person is inside." She nudges her head to point out the door. "And that was clear as the sky today."

“Thank you for your help.” It took twenty minutes for him to calm down and thirty for you. The woman behind the counter is a God send. She’s helped you out more than Kaibara has, and you’ve only known her for a short amount of time. You called Snipe to let him know where you were, and he yelled at you for being late. Whatever. It’s his dumb assignment.

You put the supplies on the counter, fearing the cost. You grabbed a very cheap wrap, not yet being able to afford a proper carrier. You have his money, and the rest of yours.

She looks at you and looks at what’s on the counter. “This isn’t nearly enough. You got some of the essentials. Everything else is missing.”

“I know, I know. I didn't have time to plan or anything. This was sprung on us today, remember?" You wished you had time to at least finance.

She tells you the total. What he gave you doesn’t cover anything but a few shirts and a bo-bo . You buy everything else with nothing left in your account until payday.

-----------

As you go home, Noa decides that it's time to rest again. His soft pudgy face is peaceful and his breathing is steady. “I’m sorry about today. And that you still don’t have a bed…” You set him on your bed comfortably. Afterwards, you put everything away in the few drawers you have.

You are in awe of how little he is. Chubby but overall small. It’s ridiculous how much you spent on a fake baby though, no matter how cute. This entire thing is unorthodox even by U.A. standards. Students paying for things with their own money is just too much. How did they expect this to happen? Where is the money going to?

It’s not a complete loss, anyway. Things can be recycled, donated, or sold at the end. You rub your face and look around at the lack of things he has. No bed, dresser, playpen, and the only toys he has are the stuffed animals that were on your bed. And he’s too young to be playing with them anyway.

Even though he isn't real, he's not, this is still getting to you. It's way too familiar. You smack your cheeks. He's an assignment, a project, a doll. That's right, a doll. To the side is your white laundry basket. You grab it and put a spare pillow in it, just like you would with your baby dolls when you were a child. “Alright, let’s see if this works.”

Nope, no it doesn’t. You groan and apologize to Noa, who still does not have a bed. That alone bothers you. He looks up at you for a moment then closes his eyes again. He gives a quick smile revealing two dimples on his chubby cheeks. You give him a little kiss.

You gasp. You only had him for a day and you've become attached. Not to a serious degree but enough to warrant a kiss. Maybe it’s because of his likeness to being real. He actually looks like he’d be yours. He feels like a baby. The whole thing is confusing you and you think it’s popping your ovaries or something.

You suddenly feel heavy. Today has been nothing but draining. If you can get a few minutes in, just a few. You need to do the responsible thing and take your meds if you’re going to nap. The bottle is too far. The side of the bed your upper body is leaning on is so comfortable. Eyelids heavy, a yawn, and the day that has been so tiring. You just need a few minutes…

There’s a knock on the door. You perk up and check on Noa, who is still asleep. You wipe your drool from your face and arm. Your knees crack in pain from sleeping on them. “I’m old, so, so old.”

“Hello?” You say as you open the door. Ema bounces and excitedly tells you, “Deku’s on the phone!”

“Bitch, did you really wake me up for that?” It’s the audacity. The sheer amount of stupid is astounding.

“Fucker. Anyway, come on! He’s face timing my baby daddy right now.”

“Hold on, let me get Noa.” You grab your bag that has a pink dress uniform in it and then snatch his diaper bag off of your chair. Right as you're about to leave your room, your eyes find the long mirror. The dry erase marker is fading and needs to be redone, and you must put more reminders on it, too.

Your eyes stay there too long. You can feel yourself about to drift away in the color of a light purple and dark blue, swirling around each other with twinkling stars. The smell of lavender starts to push through the scent of the blown out candle in your room. A moon is peering out of the colors, soon to move and send you into another dream.

Suddenly, Ema yells your name. It comes into your head like an echo, something distant and not seen. You begin to come out of it when Noa starts to cry. You blink and wipe your eyes. Noa immediately stops crying. “Thanks, bud.”

Downstairs, Kirishima holds his phone out and talks. “We miss you! When are you coming back?”

“In a few weeks, I think? Maybe a month. I’m not sure but I'm making tons of progress! I'm starting to feel more secure in my suit."

You enter the commons and spot the spiky redhead talking animatedly to the green on the screen. "It's a cool suit! I like how it looks a lot like your usual-here she is. Her name's (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Izuku Midoriya."

Your face then takes up the screen. Round green eyes meet yours. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just stares. Finally, he stutters as he introduces himself. Anytime he’s brought up, you’ve been shown this freckled baby face. Now, you’re looking at someone who’s gaining mature definition. His cheeks are a little slimmer and his scar adds a rugged look. His curls are no longer all over his head but are now neatly trimmed. All in all, he is not bad to look at. He’s surprisingly easy on the eyes.

“Okay.” Ema elbows you and tells you to be nice. “What? Why am I here?” You whisper back. You feel Midoriya’s eyes on you as you talk.

“So you won’t be here for a while?” Kirishima sounds sad that his friend is still gone. “I’ll be there soon!”

“You just said-”

“No, no, no. I’ll be there!” He moves his phone in a way that covers the lower half of his face that is growing pink.

Why are his eyes so round? He looks scared.

Ema chuckles under her breath and smiles at you. You look at the time and jump. “Shit! It’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go.”

“Alright, see you-”

“It was nice meeting you!” You stop and turn back to look at the green haired guy on the phone. He scratches his head and gives a close eyed smile. Kirishima tells him to calm down. Ema shakes her head slightly. The bright shine in her eyes is dimmed as they go to the floor. A small smile appears on her lips. “Oh, dear. Deku is something else.”

You bid them goodbye and run to find him. Noa stays calm as you cradle him gently. Finally, you see him as you push past the doors of his dorm. Kaibara is in the Class B commons sitting with his phone in his hand and his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. Many of his class stand around and talk or do homework. You take a deep breath before you say anything, like ‘you’re not helping you dumbass maggot.’ or ‘eat the dust that Shigaraki himself made’. You want to be civil for now.

“Kaibara, I need you for tonight.” And during the day too, preferably. He straightens up in his seat. Immediately, he frowns. “What? In the morning-”

“Is your home room. Stop. I need you to watch him in the evenings after school.”

“Until when?” He harshly whispers, looking around at his friends, hoping they don’t see or hear this too much.

“Around seven or eight? I’ll call to let you know.” You take off the diaper bag. “Here you go. By the way, he wears special diapers that Hatsume makes so you'll need to go get some more. He's terribly allergic to the regular ones she makes.”

“I-I can’t-” He stutters. Right now, he doesn’t look too much like a hero, just some punk ass teen in an Eeyore sweater whose mom just told him to watch his brother for an hour.

You hold up your hand. “You can, and you will. This is your son, right? Someone you wanted as a junior?” You hand him Noa, who is awake. “I’ll see you later, pumpkin.” You give Noa's cheek a poke.

Kaibara is silent. Completely silent.

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

“Benio? What’re doing?” You ask just as you’re about to head out of the U.A. gates. You didn't expect to run into him this time of day. He’s stomping with his kid in his arms. Last you saw her, she was wearing a basic outfit to go out. A purple onesie with a cheesey graphic design and some pants. Now she's in lavish clothing that you know he didn't give her. They look expensive and well put together. It's something an Instagram mom would make her kids wear; nothing like a child would be sporting if they had a normal parent. “She’s the fucking worst, I swear to God.”

“Who?” He can’t possibly be talking about his baby. He likes the kid too much, even though he’ll deny it. The way he looks at her and can't stop cooing is too telling. He's taken gobs of pictures already and the project just started.

“That bitch, Yaomomo. Or whatever the fuck people call her,” He growls. A pebble flies away by his kick. “You were right. I give up.”

Your opinions can be controversial, especially in a hero loving society. So, him admitting that is pretty huge. Although you want to gloat, you can’t help but feel bad for him and his descent to anger and hate all caused by a stupid future pro.

#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #bnha #bnha fanfic #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha midoriya #mha midoriya #bnha deku #deku #q #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x you

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mykoreanlove · 7 months ago

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Evaluation

Minho’s head fell back on the silky cushion.

He was exhausted, but utterly happy. You were still on your knees, sucking him off delicately for the third time this weekend.

He clasped his hands behind his head and watched you giddily - his eyes observed your red nails gliding around his shaft, the spit drooling from your pretty mouth as well as your sticky hair that was glued to your forehead.

He listened to your vibrant moans, wishing to capture this moment for eternity.

He had no idea how you did it but you put him under a spell. Every touch of yours ignited a fire within him, one that could never be extinguished.

Minho had a lot of experience, knowing a thing or two about sex but he had never encountered someone like you. Someone so sexy and devout, confident yet submissive.

He swore he could have seen stars as he came into your pretty mouth, covering your throat with his warm cum. You wiped away the spit as you released him, looking up at him with your big doll eyes.

Sex was messy, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You collapsed onto his broad chest as you came back to your senses, it didn’t take him a second to embrace you in the tightest hug known to mankind.

„Kitten“, he whispered softly.

„Hmm“, you mumbled into his chest. You felt his whole body vibrating from laughter.

„You are anything but ordinary, you know that? My little sex queen.“

„Sex queen?“, your head shot up confused.

„Yeah.“, he nodded. „I’ve never been fucked like that before.“

Your irritation was visible on your face. Minho had intended to compliment you, however he brought up an old wound of yours.

„Kitten, what’s wrong? Did I offend you?“, he asked concerned.

You got up and rolled off him, walking to the other side of the room. Minho followed you hastily, your reaction made him anxious.

„Hey, talk to me“, he demanded softly.

Your eyes were filled with tears. Even though the incident happened years ago, it still had the same dramatic effect on you.

„Can I hug you?“

You nodded your head, too ashamed to say a word.

Minho threw his arms around you, holding you completely naked under the moonlight.

„You wanna tell me what’s wrong?“

You took a deep breath as you recollected your first time ever.

„It’s about me losing my virginity back then. I was with this guy and he was way older than me and naturally the sex was awful. I was nervous and clumsy and sometimes it really hurt and I asked him to stop. In the end, he came but I didn’t and it was just horrible.“, you explained flatly.

„I’m so sorry, Kitten. I wish your first time had been special.“, Minho said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

„Oh no, that’s not the traumatizing part, Min.“, you shook your head.

„It’s not?“

„No. That part came the next day when I woke up and he was gone. But you know what he had left me? A list.“

„A list?“, Minho asked confused.

You nodded. „A motherfucking list.“

„What was it about?“

Flashbacks of you reading each point found their way back into your consciousness, making you shiver with disgust. And yet, ten years later you were still able to recite every single point from that list.

„It’s a list about my sex skills. Or rather lack thereof.“

Minho’s eyes widened in shock, still not fully comprehending what you were saying.

„Kitten?“

You let out a deep sigh.

„Point one. Be sexier. Don’t be so quiet. Moan and scream. Point two. Your head game needs a lot of work. Look it up. Point three. Don’t act awkward. You’re not a virgin anymore. Point four. You need to get better at shaving. He actually put a smiley at the end of that sentence.“, you rolled your eyes while recollecting.

Minho’s jaw hit the floor as he was too stunned to speak.

„Point five. Don’t tell a guy to stop when he’s getting into it. It ruins the mood. Point six. Don’t be shy. It’s not sexy. And last but not least. Point seven. Get on your knees if I ask you to. My pleasure comes first.“

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through Minho’s head right now. His blood was boiling, as he could feel his whole body getting hotter and hotter. What kind of jerk had the audacity to insult you like that?!

„You know, don’t get me wrong. I know that my first time sucked and I was very eager to learn. Like, I wanted to get better at sex. But his way of communicating that? I felt so small and disgusting. I gave my body to him, for the first time ever, and he critiqued me like a fucking ballet recital. And you know the funniest thing?“

You looked up at Minho, expectancy in your eyes.

Minho on the other hand just looked at you, trying his hardest to calm down.

„That stupid list even had a name. A name!“, you laughed manically. „Can you guess it?“

Minho’s face turned white as he realized what it had to be called.

„How to become a sex queen.“, you snorted. „Ain’t that funny.“

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angelzarchive · 4 months ago

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spencer bf hcs? I've read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,)

request: spencer bf hcs? i’ve read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,) / from the lovely @earspop! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some spencer content, i love his sm so i had a lot of fun with this request. i think i got far too into and it turned out to be a little longer than i was expecting but i hope you enjoy it <33

pairing: spencer agnew x fem! insinuated reader — i’m sorry not all works i do will be gender specific, i’m just a sucker for spencer saying ‘pretty girl’

a/n: yayyy! this is finally my first ever work on tumblr and it’s also my first time doing hcs / x reader so bare with me if it’s not so good lol. i’m so nervous yet excited to share this. i just hope you all enjoy. and by all means, if you see any errors or mistakes, please feel free to point them out. it’s not edited yet because i wanted to get it out quickly, so a little note if you see any would be greatly appreciated! if you have any requests you’d like to see, please leave them <3

for spencer, meeting you was what he could only describe as love at first sight.

from the moment you had first walked through the smosh doors and introduced yourself as their newest addition, he was smitten.

not only did he think you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, but he was completely infatuated by your personality and how well you immediately got along with everyone.

you quickly found out you both had very similar humour and could riff off of each other effortlessly.

so, it didn’t take long for the two of you to become friends. best friends, in fact. spencer had made it his own little secret mission to ensure it.

and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. between spending your lunch breaks and most weekends together, your friends found it almost impossible to catch either of you alone.

he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was always trying to impress you. especially by making you laugh with his silly jokes. he had loved the sound of your laugh since the first time he’d made you fling your head back, mouth open wide and hands clutching your stomach. he was in awe of your bright smile and he vowed to never stop trying to make it happen.

falling for you was inevitable, he was a goner from the beginning. and the feeling wasn’t much different on your part, your crush on the man only grew stronger each day.

getting together wasn’t an easy process though, it took far too long for either of you to admit your feelings to yourselves — never mind one another.

you were both too worried about about the consequences of it going wrong, not wanting to ruin the cherished friendship you’d established.

much to the dismay of your friends, of course, who were all progressively getting more and more annoyed at the both of you for being so clueless. it was like everyone but you two could see how in love you were with each other.

it was spencer who built up the courage to admit his feelings first, although he hadn’t actually intended to.

it happened during your weekly movie night. you noticed there was something off about him immediately, sensed it as soon as he had walked through the door and plonked himself on the furthest end of your sofa — quite a distance away from where he’d usually sit, right by your side.

he was fidgeting the entire time and seemed like his mind was else where. you’d barely gotten an hour into the movie when you’d had enough and pressed pause.

you urged him to tell you what was wrong and without a second thought, all in one breath, he admitted his feelings for you.

you were beyond shocked but it didn’t take you long to return the favour.

that night you’d finished the movie in each others arms, whispering sweet nothings.

to this day, spencer regrets how he told you. he wishes it was more romantic and better thought out, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

and you’d been together ever since then.

spencer is the sweetest boyfriend ever and you loved being able to witness this new side of him.

turns out, he’s the biggest hopeless romantic.

from day one, his silly nicknames for you had taken a romantic turn. he started calling you “my love”, “baby” and even “pretty girl” — which you were obsessed with (if you don’t like nicknames, just discard this part!).

the guy literally praises the ground you walk on. he can never seem to shut up about you, always finding some way to bring you up in conversation. usually, he’s bragging about you.

he always says he‘s not entirely sure why you like him or how he managed to bag you, but he’s grateful it paid off. sometimes he’ll make a joke that he knows is really nerdy and he’ll follow it up with a “i don’t know why they like me either” or a “they’ll never want to touch me again”.

he will randomly use the cheesiest pick up lines on you. you could both just be chilling and out of no where he’ll hit you with a “baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print” just because he “felt like it”.

at work, he loves to bring you lunch and leave you a cute little note.

at home, he will sit you down on his lap and teach you how to play his favourite games so that he can play them with you. though once you get the hang of it, he does get very competitive. god forbid you get more kills than him in fortnite, even though he is super impressed — “that’s my girl.”

he also likes to play his games with you laying your head in his lap. there’s something about you being interested in what he’s playing that makes him want to take his shirt off really happy. even if you end up falling asleep during, at which point he’ll make great effort not to wake you up until he’s done. which usually doesn’t take too long because watching you sleep so peacefully in his lap has him eager to cuddle up with you in bed.

speaking of, when cuddling, he usually really likes to lay his head on your chest with your arms wrapped around him or have your whole body weight on top of him. he’s happy to be either big or little spoon.

although he may not be the biggest fan of over the top PDA, he does like to be touching you in some way or other. he’ll usually have his hand placed on you, either on the bottom your back or on your waist. he enjoys playing with your fingers and the hem of your clothes. when sitting, he’ll definitely have his arm wrapped around the back of your chair.

he really loves to show you off and as a result, his insta feed is full of your pictures. it may as well be his personal fan account for you. furthermore, he comments on every single one of your posts. he’s always your biggest hype man.

big fan of sending you memes on any and every social media platform you both have. if you don’t react to them, he will send you either an angry or sad face emoji.

he has made custom memes for you and your relationship, with a number of them featuring in who memed it videos. very easy points for the cast members.

he likes to save videos he’s seen that remind him of you or the stuff he thinks would make you laugh, immediately showing you when you’re next together.

spencer is a very good, active listener. he’s always willing to hear you talk, whether it be about your interests or something that’s bothering you and he will always have a question to ask or solution to provide. he even remembers the smallest things you tell him, which he’ll bring up to you months later and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

he definitely writes down every important date between you both.

he’s a very thoughtful gift giver and likes to spend time just planning what he wants to get you. he believes you deserve nothing less and likes every last detail to be perfect.

you’ll usually get each other a funny card with the presents though. it’s become a tradition for you both to draw a little silly something inside (like a character from a show you’re both watching together)— even if it turns out very poor. the messages inside are pretty romantic and heartfelt, no matter the occasion.

spencer is very quick to notice when you’re upset and when he does, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. playing one of his characters usually works pretty fast, especially the chosen and fred darts. they’re so ridiculous, they end up distracting you.

he definitely makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you or that he recommends and he absolutely listens to all the songs you recommend him, without skipping a second. if he likes them, he’ll let you know it.

whenever he has a new idea for a video or a character to play, you’re the first person he will run it by. he really values your input.

you guys definitely have cat babies and he absolutely will send you pictures of them if you’re away. they’ll have a caption that says something like “we miss you” or “look how cute our son/ daughter is, they definitely take after you”.

a/n: and this is all the hcs i have for now, however i will definitely be updating this list.

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew nation #smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh x reader #fan fiction

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thorough-witness-enjoyer · 4 months ago

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In the face of recent news about our beloved Destiny, I think it’s more important than ever for us as a community to come together and support each other in numerous ways.

It’s been a very hard week for all of us, especially those who lost their jobs and outlet for their passion in mass lay offs. Losing a position that allowed you to craft magnificent stories alongside some of the most ambitious people in the gaming industry, especially in worrying economic circumstances, must be excruciating to deal with and I wish the best for all those laid off from Bungie.

For us fans, it hurts more than anything to see the game you care so much for get put in headlines for how little that care is shared amongst the people responsible for making decisions on it. I’ve been into Destiny since it first dropped, making it the love of my life for nearly two-thirds of my whole existence , and to hear about how it’s just another product to be sold when it’s everything and more to me is just despairing. I wanted to become a writer and concept artist to create a game for others that made them feel as cared for as I did when I played Destiny and now I’m sitting here seeing all the people who helped foster that feeling be treated as another expenditure.

It’s awful, a lot of us are feeling really uninspired and betrayed at the moment, not sure we even want to see what will happen to this masterpiece of a game in the hands of the current executives. We are also dearly missing the developers, artists, writers, and more who made Destiny more than a fps looter shooter.

But it is times like these where we are torn and confused that we must uplift one another and not let the bitter taste of Bungie’s actions make us speak with hostility. This is not about decisions on whether to support Bungie or the actual game, but about refocusing on what truly makes Destiny enjoyable to so many.

Its world is immersive with care put into every story and that clearly shows in just how eager fans are to create masterpieces for it. It was never playing the game or the notoriety that kept me coming back for more, but the joy of creation I could share with others.

It stings to see a disinterest in nursing the potential of the Destiny universe from the executives with motivations other than monetary gain, but when the executives won’t care, we can. There are still employees at Bungie who adore their work and we can continue to support them by speaking up against horrible industry practices and show that we won’t abandon their efforts to make Destiny what it is.

Make ocs, write fanfictions, follow the former employees wherever they go, draw til your heart is overflowing, join Discords, roleplay, share headcanons, create aus with friends, do whatever keeps Destiny alive and flourishing for you!

Destiny will never die to me, even when it’s long forgotten and the servers shut down, because Destiny made me who I am and I intend to repay that gift an infinite amount of times over. The characters and universe will be alive and well to me until I die, regardless of the fate of the game and Bungie.

So go out and prove that Destiny’s themes of the power of community and hope are more than just morals behind a screen, that they are life changing messages that we will carry on despite hopeless news!!

Reblog charming artists, message people about ships you enjoy, leave questions and tags that contribute to conservations, write essays about what Destiny means to you!!

My messages and inbox for questions are always open if anyone would like to talk (I’m trying to get better at answering them, even if they are months late)! You are all welcome here and I want to start reblogging and liking more freely even if those things scare me sometimes!

We can decide our fates and we can decide the fate of Destiny’s presence in our lives as well! We can choose to care when others won’t and refuse to make our enjoyment debatable!! In troubling times, we should be able to reach out into the dark and find hands to hold onto tight!!

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny the game #d2 #destiny art #destiny concept art #destiny fanfiction #destiny community #destiny fanart #destiny oc #destiny au #I need to stop yapping #I love you all so much I love the people I’ve met in this community #destiny the game you are

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asgardian--angels · 1 year ago

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Izzy Discourse Masterpost

Hey all, given the amount of awful splintering and wank happening in ofmd fandom rn regarding Izzy's death, including the flat-out immature and unacceptable harassment of David Jenkins and Co, I wanted to just make this one all-encompassing post to address the various grievances and complaints I've seen (almost entirely on Twitter). If I've missed anything, please feel free to add on. I'm putting most of this under a read-more for length.

Please be aware, I say all of this as an Izzy fan. I've loved his character since season 1, and while I was sad to see him go, I completely understand and support David & Co's reasons for concluding his arc, and I think it was done respectfully in a way fitting to his character. So let's break down some of the takes I've seen. I am not referencing specific posts or people here, I just want to address the general themes that I keep seeing about why some people are upset.

Izzy's death served no narrative purpose.

Look, this is one that I'm sure fans will debate for the rest of the hiatus. It's completely within your right to disagree with this writing choice, but Izzy's death did serve a narrative purpose in the story that David Jenkins is telling - and he has spoken to this end in several interviews already. I can only summarize here, and fans may find other perspectives in time as well. What we need to remember is that Our Flag Means Death is, at the end of the day, Ed and Stede's love story. That has been made abundantly, explicitly clear. The show has been fantastic at fleshing out the other supporting characters, but that's what they are - supporting characters. They often have their own subplots but ultimately the narrative seeks to move Ed and Stede's story forward and they are tools to spur Ed and Stede's growth or mirror their struggles. Izzy has been a wonderfully complex, multifaceted character but we must remember that all characters are vessels through which stories are told, lessons are imparted, and metaphors are established. He's not a real person who 'deserves' any particular fate. David said he's always intended for Izzy to die at the end of his arc.

Firstly, Izzy (now canonically, through his own dying words) represents part of Blackbeard. He enabled and encouraged Ed's darker side, they were mutually toxic forces to each other. Ed is attempting to cope with and move on from this phase of his life, and like Stede in season 1, set out a free man, unshackled by expectations and loose ends of those he's hurt and been hurt by (though we realize this is an ongoing process that takes time). This lovely gifset sums it up nicely, with Izzy being the Mary parallel, and making s2 mirror s1. Blackbeard is both Ed and Izzy; Ed cannot be free of Blackbeard while Izzy is in his life, and when Izzy is gone he will never truly be Blackbeard again. They are each other's rotting leg!! Yet, they love each other - and David has said that for Ed, this has developed into a mentor and father relationship, and where Ed has previously despised his father figures (his actual father, Hornigold) he does not want to lose Izzy. This time, Izzy brings out Ed, not Blackbeard - and that's where we get the callback to 'there he is', bringing their impact on each other full circle, freeing Ed, getting approval of sorts that he never had, to be soft, to be loved (and there are parallels to Zheng and Auntie here as well that others have made) from that force that drove him to stay in line all this time. David has said in multiple interviews now that he was going for the idea of the mentor/father figure dying and the hero living on and trying to do justice to them.

From Izzy's side, Izzy cannot be free while Edward remains either (Mary cannot find peace while Stede remains). The scar never truly healed, the leg will always be a reminder. At this point the argument becomes 'yes, but why did he have to die? Why not just sail off with the crew of the Revenge?' David has stated that he feels they've done everything they can with, and for, Izzy; he's come leagues from season 1, he's found community, he's found hope, he's found new parts of himself, and he's made good memories. He's found worth outside of what he can be to others. That's more than most pirates could hope for. Where would his character go from there, when the Golden Age of Piracy he belongs to has burned to the ground? Would he stay around and whittle on the Revenge? If he were a real person, yes, that would be lovely, and he'd deserve all the quiet peaceful happiness in the world. But as I explain several points below, he's not interested in being a captain. He's not up for the hard physical labor of regular crew, and he's extremely overqualified for that besides. He has served his narrative purpose, and symbolically, to enter a new age, everything must go. He's connected to the old age of piracy, to the Republic of Pirates, that is now demolished. To him, fighting for what he believes in, for the family he's found, bringing down an army of British twats in the process, is how he should go. It's a pirate's death, and as Izzy's said, he's a pirate - unlike Blackbeard who's succeeding in breaking away from piracy, Izzy never wanted to stop being a pirate, throughout his arc. To me, that's why Izzy remains trapped in the narrative, trapped in history, whereas Ed and Stede will escape history. They leave piracy, and canon, behind, while Izzy was content to remain a pirate and face a pirate's fate.

Burying him on land, right next to Ed and Stede's beach house, shows that his sacrifice was not in vain - they start this new life together, thanks to Izzy's mentorship, his role in their lives that sometimes for worse, sometimes for better, made their love what it was and made their breakaway possible. The new age is built on the foundations of the old age, and is stronger for it.

As we're well aware by now, David tweeted that there's no version of ofmd without Izzy. Whether that's literal or not, symbolically it's true. Izzy's arc of growth affected everyone on the Revenge. Jim fondly remembered fighting for a time when life meant something on that ship; the crew helped give Izzy new meaning in life, and he helped them in return. When he dies, they mourn and have a funeral; that wouldn't have happened under Blackbeard's watch in episode 2. His life meant something to them. He influenced Ed and Stede immensely, and they will take that with them. As David's said, they're all a family, and Izzy was a part of that family, and his loss unites them and brings them closer to continue to fight for that family they've built. It's a tragic, sudden death of someone they've all grown to care for, and that steels their reserve to keep the torch lit. They literally sail off into the sunset to hunt down Ricky to avenge Izzy; he will always be a part of this show. And, of course, with the brief appearance of seagull Buttons, the door is left open for anything.

If this was The Izzy Show, then sure, we'd be content to see him simply engaged in shenanigans every episode. But the plot, and therefore the characters, need to keep moving forward, and Izzy got his growth and development. He got what he needed for his character to have closure, and he served his symbolic narrative purpose in Ed's (and Stede's) story. You may have your own ideas and perspectives, and that's great - that's what fandom is for. But we cannot say his death was pointless when David Jenkins and the writers clearly had a well-defined motive for pushing the narrative in this direction. I actually think the narrative around Ed and Izzy is the most well-developed in the entire show. I for one am so happy we got such an interesting and complex character, and had the brilliant Con O'Neill to portray him.

Izzy's growth & healing arc was rendered pointless by his death.

As this post so eloquently puts it, it's pretty bleak to have the outlook that taking steps to heal and find meaning in life is worthless if it's later lost. Seeking happiness and self-actualization is worthwhile for its own sake; no one knows what's down the road, and we all die eventually. Find meaning in life now. Would you rather have had Izzy not miss with his bullet in ep2? He was given the chance to experience joy, freedom, and hope for the first time in potentially a long time, and when he died he did so with those happy memories. As mentioned, Izzy's death was decided long beforehand given the narrative, and the point of storytelling is to make you feel emotions. We were given impetus to connect and relate to Izzy's character through his process of healing, so when he did die, we felt it keenly. That's how stories work actually! We felt what Ed felt. It moved us. It's not a bad thing that Izzy's arc made him more likeable to fans before his death. It's not a bad thing to lose a beloved character - guess what, it happens constantly in stories - and it's not bad to grieve over it either, but to say that it made his journey pointless is just not true. People saying that Con must be upset that they snatched his character away from him after getting to develop him so much - again I say, would you rather him have died in ep 2 before he had the chance to grow? Or how about in s1, when the crew tried to mutiny? How'd you feel when Stede killed him in his dream, in the very first scene of the season? I think Con's probably glad for the opportunity to have explored this character so much in season 2. Ask him if he thinks it was pointless.

Killing off Izzy was bad for queer rep/burying your gays/"Izzy was the queer heart of the show"

I'm putting 'bury your gays' on the top shelf so people can't use it when it doesn't actually apply. Most of the main cast of characters in this show are queer, and it's a show about pirates with a good amount of violence. Ergo, chances are a queer character will die in the course of Things Happening In Stories. Izzy didn't die because he was queer, and he wasn't the token queer rep. Please turn your attention to the boatloads (literally) of queer characters that are happy and thriving (how about the LuPete wedding immediately afterwards??). As for Izzy being the "queer heart of the show," this is literally the Ed and Stede show. You know, the two queer leads whose queer love the show revolves around, per David Jenkins himself. I'm glad folks connected with and derived joy from Izzy's growth and especially his performance in Calypso's birthday, but he is not the main character of the show. The queer heart of the show is in fact, the entire show, all of their characters and the community & found family they create aboard the Revenge. Not to mention the fan community as well. Izzy was never carrying the show's representation on his back, and frankly that's an absurdly wild take to have (esp when he spent most of s1 actively working against the main queer relationships in the show, attempting to maintain the oppressive status quo of pirate society).

It was bad and irresponsible to have a suicidal character die

Are we forgetting the entire first half of the season where Ed, who was suicidal, kept trying to passively kill himself because he felt he was an unlovable monster, only to be shown that he is in fact loved unconditionally and it gives him the strength to fight for life and triumph against his own self-doubt? The show has spent quite a lot of effort telling viewers that despite feeling damaged or broken you are worthy of love and that you are loved even if it may be hard to see it when you're in a bad place. That you don't need to be fully healed to deserve love and care, and that love and support will help you along your journey. It's incredibly wild to disregard this major plot point and fundamental message of s2 to try and spin this the opposite way for Izzy's character.

Secondly, where are people getting 'Izzy is suicidal' from? Are we going back all the way to episode 2, when he's at his lowest point and fails at his suicide attempt, only to be figuratively reborn after removing the metaphorical rotten leg? By the time of the finale he's shown to be in a good place, thanks to the arc of healing and growth he's gotten, through the support of the Revenge crew and his 'breakup' with Blackbeard allowing him to find his own way in life, realizing he doesn't need a purpose to have value and enjoying his time on the Revenge and the bonds he's made with Stede and the crew. He is, in the words of Ivan, "the most open and available I've ever seen him" by the finale. To take episode 2 as evidence he's suicidal is to erase his whole season of growth, which is an ironic thing to do in the context of these arguments. There's no canon evidence Izzy Hands was suicidal post-'Fun and Games'.

As for 'irresponsible,' once again I say, David Jenkins is not your therapist, he's not 'Dad,' and has no responsibility to tell his story any other way than he intended to tell it. Please find media that gives you what you want or need, and if the death of a fictional character causes you this much distress please seek help. I mean this kindly but seriously.

Killing off Izzy was ableist/bad for disability rep.

I point once again to the rest of the characters, several of which are disabled in varied ways. There are literally multiple other amputee characters specifically. It's not good storytelling to wholly avoid killing off any character that is disabled/queer/poc/female or [insert marginalized group here], especially when a) it makes sense narratively, and b) there's plenty of representation of these groups in the media in question. The answer isn't making such characters invincible and immortal, it's increasing the number of these characters in shows so it's not devastating when some do die in the course of natural storytelling.

OFMD was my comfort show/safe space show, now it's ruined for me

I am not trying to be insensitive here when I say that's a problem that is yours and nobody else's. David Jenkins created this show with a three-season vision and a story in mind, and he is telling that story to the best of his ability the way he wants to. It's already been said that he and the crew did not anticipate the fandom becoming as large and passionate as it has. The plot of the show was never intended to be 'fan service,' and it's ironic that there were people complaining this season that there's been too many fanservice tropes, up until David and the rest of the writers room made a narrative decision they did not like, then the complaints changed to not coddling the fans enough.

We as viewers can derive joy from this show, it can be a comfort to us, it can be important to us. But it was not designed specifically for that purpose, therefore it cannot fail in that respect. We do not have the right to harass writers for not steering the ship in the direction we want - it's their work of art, and we can choose to either come along for the ride or not. It's rare to see creators actually given the chance to tell their story the way they intend (budget cuts aside), so let him do that. He should not cater to fans, or cave and change the story to appease us. Respect his right to create his art, and remember you have the right to create your own. That's what fanfiction is for - write fix-its to your heart's content, but keep these realms separate. David Jenkins and Co hold zero, and I mean zero, responsibility to you. He could not please everyone no matter what he did, it would be fruitless to try, and it would certainly compromise the quality of the story he set out to tell.

You are absolutely allowed to dislike choices made in any show. Curate your media experience. If this show no longer brings you joy, stop watching. But it was never David's purpose nor responsibility to juggle the mental health of millions of fans. Trying to put that on him will only make him less enthusiastic about interacting with fans or continuing to make this show. This isn't rocket science. You're responsible for yourself, not this guy you call 'Dad' that you've developed a parasocial-therapist relationship with.

Izzy should have become captain of the Revenge.

Really?? Firstly, we did actually get that already in s1. He was tyrannical and the crew mutinied. But even if you think 'well after his character arc he'd be better suited to it,' it goes against the point of this arc. He's found value in not having a distinct role or purpose on the ship, decoupling his worth from the job he's expected to perform. He's found his place amongst the crew, not commanding it. There's no narrative reason to put him in charge when he's expressed no further interest in slotting himself back into a role full of pressure and expectations.

Con O'Neill was only told halfway through filming, it's cruel to just kill off the character he loves so much.

Guys, he's an actor. More than that, an actor with a theater background. I think he's used to characters dying. You don't need to look out for him. Con and David spoke one on one about it at length so they were on the same page, and David even said that Con took it well. I'm sure Con had input, just as other members of the cast have influenced their characters' stories, costumes, backstories, etc. Do you really think David Jenkins hurt Con's feelings or something? The writers (remember, it's not just David, it's a whole team of hard-working people coming up with these ideas) gave Con such a chance to shine this season, really developing Izzy beyond what he was given in s1 and letting Con show off his full acting range. Why are you only focusing on the destination rather than the journey? Sure, Con's probably sad to see Izzy go, but please do not project your distress onto him or try and accuse David & Co of being 'cruel' to their cast. That's really ridiculous. It's constantly evident how close they all are.

More importantly, do you actually, seriously think that Con O'Neill would want fans to harass each other or the writers over his character? The man who preaches being kind above all? There is no better way to make an actor uncomfortable about a show and its fanbase than to start treating fictional characters like they're more important than real people. He would not want you to bully people over Izzy Hands, and it's mind-boggling that some of you have convinced yourself otherwise.

Lastly, I just want to talk about the fact that some people are holding OFMD to absurdly high expectations.

Our Flag Means Death has been a pioneer series for its diverse representation, earnest storytelling, and themes of hope, community, and love. It's fine to discuss aspects of the show with a critical eye, but so much of the discourse has truly felt like folks are trying to find fault in a show that is leagues ahead of the average tv series that we still enjoy. How many fan favorites are killed off all the time? How many plotlines are scrapped, or drawn out without closure, or contradicted the very next season? How many shows are indifferent or actively hostile towards their fanbase? How many have any queer characters, or actually do bury them? The bar's so low, and OFMD has risen above to give us so much. Some are holding the show to astronomical expectations, waiting for it to fall from the pedestal it's been placed on. If something you don't like happens in the show, it's not suddenly ruined or demoted to being ~just as bad as those other shows~. Give them some breathing room, have some perspective on how progressive the show is, and that perfection is impossible, especially meeting every single viewer's idea of it. This is basically a repeat of the recent Good Omens drama, with an absurd number of people harassing Neil Gaiman for breaking up Aziraphale and Crowley and leaving the second of three acts on a very predictable cliffhanger. Let stories be told, let them unfold as they may, and you are free to leave anytime. It's so wonderful that more queer love stories are becoming popular and even mainstream, but let's not shoot ourselves in the foot by tearing them down when they don't go exactly the way you want it, which often seems to mean no drama, no character deaths, and therefore no conflict or even plot!

Just, please be civil human beings, and while this seems to be a difficult thing for so many fandoms to do, just keep your fan opinions in the fan space. Never bring your grievances to the writers, never bully them and persecute them for telling a story that you opted into viewing. That's something that goes entirely against everything this show, and this cast and crew, have imparted onto us - the importance of kindness, support, community, and love. I'll say it again because it bears repeating: the fate of a fictional character is never more important than how you treat real people. Just be kind in real life, which includes the internet. Thanks.

Now please, let's work together to ensure we get a season 3. There's so much more story to be told, and if you want to see Izzy back, whether that's as flashbacks, as a ghost haunting the inn, or in the gravy basket, we'll need more episodes! #RenewAsACrew

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #and after this i will speak of it no more ok #now once we're all calmed down i am really looking forward to meta about izzy's role in the narrative #i truly think izzy's one of the most well written characters on not just this show but on tv lately in general #suicide mention tw #I tried to put a read more under the first bullet point but tumblr's formatting basically deleted it #by automatically overriding it with an Expand #so sorry about the length and such

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