#I claim this as my top 1 brush

[cornfanchips]

I just downloaded the most scrumptious square brush Hmm Hm delicious.

Spoiler:

Science is always worth it.

Hehe I can draw them from memory 🥴

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

how i manifested my dream life with extremely hard circumstances + how you can too ♡

Note: this is not my post and it's blushydior's post that everyone been searching for, so i thought why not making it as a post,and blushy if you see this, please don't kill me i know you said that you'll change your post but you disappeared After that.

♡ table of contents:

1. the importance of making this post

2.my take on manifestation + the 3D

3. HOW I DID IT - my journey in 4 phases i went through that include my mindset changes up to the moment i got my desires 

4. your new rules & routine from this moment on

5. a note from me!

6. frequently asked questions: separated into topics regarding the 3D, self concept + miscellaneous questions to have you leaving this post stress free.

now let’s get into it. read every bit of this post “ ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

I. THE IMPORTANCE OF MAKING THIS POST

i’ve been through it all. you can read my experiences from old life in the “my life before” section of my success story + here, here, here and here. this is my success story on how the law of assumption has changed my life. as you can see from the “how” section of the post, i had purposely left it short, sweet and simple to avoid people complicating the simplicity of the law of assumption. but as time went on, anons and other blogs made me realize that since people do tend to over-complicate the law, the need i felt to make an in-depth post on how i personally manifested through my hard circumstances grew strong.

my blog often highlights topics that pertain to mental health, so i want to make sure those who find themselves in the same situations as i once were feel seen, heard and loved. you are all so powerful, amazing and hold so much potential more than you know. with this post, i hope i am able to help you realize that fact to the best of my abilities.

𝐈𝐈. MY TAKE ON MANIFESTATION + THE 3D

something that you’ll see me say all the time is: “life is a blank canvas.” that’s because it truly is.

remember that you are working with the law of assumption. what you assume to be true, is true. nothing is set in stone unless you say it is. things have meaning only if you assign it one.

you are the sole creator of your life. you are the artist that controls the brush/pen, you control what goes on and off of this very malleable canvas we call life. you don’t have to do anything. therefore,

you don’t have to: affirm 24/7, be specific, word your affirmations correctly, listen to subliminals, ignore the 3D, be positive all the time, meditate, have high vibrations, script, visualize, do sats or lullaby, go into the void, affirm in the present tense, avoid the mirror, etc.

you can literally say a random word like “bonk” and if saying it means you have all your desires or money is constantly filling your bank account, then that’s what will happen!

“but what if my subconscious doesn’t know what it means?” your subconscious mind is literally you. it’s not some stranger separate from you. if you want a scene to play out a certain way on a specific date or a romantic partner with all the most perfect qualities even if you can’t name it all at the top of your head, your subconscious has your back with the details! you have your own back. don’t worry.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO IGNORE THE 3D.

read that again and again and again and again and-if your circumstances are quite literally in your face, how can you turn the other way and ignore it? you could if you wanted but you’ll only be doing more harm and we don’t want that, right?

“so then what do i do?” you KNOW it’s going to change. it’s challenging when you don’t fully believe the law to know it’s going to change, so for a start, tell yourself that this is not the end. why? because the moment you had a desire and claimed it as yours, it has already been set stone in the 4D so the 3D has no choice but to reflect it. this is your movie, you KNOW this is not the end. you are director and star of this movie! you control how it’s going to play out.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. HOW I DID IT - The 4 Phases (more so, 3)

PHASE 1:

i found out about manifestation from tiktok. from there i have tried scripting, law of attraction and had taken a liking into the craft. i tried it all until i found out about the law of assumption, sammy ingram and finally, tumblr.

PHASE 2:

upon finding out about loassumption tumblr, i had learned more and more about the law but as time went on, i had realized i had never really fully tried to apply the law. the idea just didn’t come about to apply it. as many others, i had overconsumed information, always wondering if i was doing it right, questioning the 3D,

so i took a break. upon discharge, i realized many things and decided to spend an extended amount of time alone, away from social media. i’m someone who values alone time as long as if it’s spent wisely.

during this time away from tumblr and sns platforms in general, constantly surrounded by other people’s takes, information, and opinions, i had learned so much about the law of assumption on my own! i went into the law of assumption with a fresh mind, actually applying the knowledge and overtime of affirming and persisting, i ACTUALLY understood the meaning behind “creation is finished. it is done.”

i’m advising you to step away from social media (that on it’s own has negative impacts) and be alone with your thoughts. i know your thoughts haven’t had it’s time to be alone because you’re most likely constantly seeking information to help you. and i don’t blame you. it’s just that, you are always bombarded by thoughts that aren’t your own, you barely give some time to yourself to think for yourself!

and if you can’t help but be on tumblr for other reasons than loassumption, unfollow blogs for the time being, scroll past informational posts to avoid second guessing your application. tell yourself that

YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT!

PHASE 3:

when it was time to apply the law, i simplified it. you choose what you desire, you affirm from your desire and persist. okay! got it. so that’s what i did. i affirmed whenever i thought about my desire, i kept saying that it is done! so in phase 2, i mentioned how i realized how creation was ACTUALLY done, right? before deciding to apply the law, i kept seeing posts saying that but i didn’t really fully understand it until the realization hit me during my time away from social media. (see? i love alone time. solitude is my bff) — here’s my breakdown for you:

once you decide a desire is yours to claim, THE SECOND you affirm that, in your head, imagination, your 4D, it is ALREADY yours. therefore, it has no choice to become physical reality. (this is why your subconscious only needs to hear things once in order for it to conform!)

it will always be yours for as long as you sustain that assumption (persist), it is yours! no matter what.

this is the meaning of “it is done.” it’s like telling a chef what dish you want, once they know what you want, they’ve got you covered. except that this chef is you. you know the details of your desire, you declare it’s going to conform instantly so why are you worrying? there is no need to worry.

informational post on the 4D + 3D here:

❝ If you judge after appearances, you will continue to be enslaved by the evidence of your senses. To break this hypnotic spell of the senses you are told, "Go within and shut the door,” The door of the senses must be tightly shut before your new claim can be honored .Instead of fighting against the evidence of the senses you claim yourself to be that which you desire to be. As your attention is placed on this claim, the doors of the senses automatically close against your former master (that which you were conscious of being). As you become lost in the feeling of being (that which you are now claiming to be true of yourself) the doors of the senses once more open, revealing your world to be the perfect expression of that which you are conscious of being. ❞

i kept time away from social media and being persistent really helped me be aware of my thoughts.

persistence has helped me:

be aware of thoughts that i wouldn’t have been able to catch before. for example, i was declaring that i have all of my desires and creation was done, but i found myself affirming “okay but where is it?” — this made me realize i was questioning my desires in my 3D even though i knew it was done in the 4D. (you don’t have to do this, you can imply your 3D conforms fast with whatever affs)

flip and interrupt my intrusive thoughts faster and faster the more i persisted. i hated my intrusive thoughts so much. like it was so annoying and hurtful. it was filled with replaying past scenarios that happened to me, things i wished had played out differently, just people who absolutely did not deserve the right to be occupying my mind and space! so i was grateful to learn that with persistence, i started to have less and less of those.

(see!! mental diet, persistence!! <3 this is how habits form and strengthen duhh. remember not to abandon common sense for the law)

AND THEN, PHASE 4:

i had entered sabbath, the state of the wish fulfilled, calm and relaxation that my desire has already manifested and there wasn’t nothing left for me to do other than persist. after so much persisting and saturating my mind with my affirmations, i reached being peace with my desires. i’m really glad i persisted. see how after persistence of assumptions, though false, will harden into fact? see how even your affirmations would feel “fake” at first but will soon feel natural to you? this means that i wasn’t questioning where it was, how long it was taking, etc. but this doesn’t mean i was ignoring my 3D. i saw it all but i knew it was going to change BECAUSE i felt peace in my inevitable desires.

then, i received my desires.

❝ I couldn’t possibly be worried about anything if I really believe that imagining creates reality. ❞

❝ When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that the desire is fulfilled. Feeling grateful, fulfilled, or thankful, it is easy to say, “Thank You,” “Isn’t it wonderful!” or “It is finished.” When you get into the state of thankfulness, you can either awaken knowing it is done, or fall asleep in the feeling of the wish fulfilled. ❞

𝐈𝐕. YOUR NEW RULES & ROUTINE

☆┆YOUR 3 NEW RULES ARE:

1, you have all your desires:

i have all of my desires.

creation is finished. it is done.

2. you manifest quickly and easily:

manifesting is always so easy and instant for me.

i always manifest within 2 days or less, the 3D conforms instantly.

the 3D instantly reflect my 4D.

the physical reality instantly reflects my 4D/imaginative reality.

3. you are okay because nothing can stop you from getting the inevitable:

everything is going to be okay because creation is done.

i am always aware of my thoughts. nothing can stop/get in the way of my desires.

no amount of intrusive thoughts, events and opinions of others have the power to stop my manifestations.

✉️: choose one affirmation from each list or make one of your own that makes you feel comfortable.

☆┆ROUTINE:

affirm on loop as an act of saturating your mind whenever you think of your desire until you feel satisfied,

in the morning, after you wake up: saturate your mind with affs.

read the manifesting vaunt below everyday (whenever you feel like it) — read it over and over again until you feel confident then go about your day!!

at night, before you sleep, affirm this:

“i kept all my thoughts in check today. i didn’t waver once. my mind is completely saturated with the new story.”

optional tip: if you want to saturate your mind even more as a start, you can set reminders with sticky notes around your space, have affs on your phone lock screen or wear a bracelet.

✉️ NOTE: soon enough, your mind will be saturated and you won’t need to do this anymore. this is just a start for those who battle intrusive thoughts!

let yourself feel any emotions that may come up because of your hard circumstances then once it’s out of your system, affirm your rules, especially rule #3!

do not consume any loassumption information if you know it will only cause you to second guess your ability. if you have the urge to ask a blog a question, try to make sense of what they will say and answer it yourself.

in times of doubt, remember that life is a blank canvas. your desire is set in stone, so your only task is to persist.

REASSURANCE VAUNT

creation is ACTUALLY finished. it is done. the second i claimed my desires as mine, it has already manifested itself in the 4D so it has no choice to present itself in the 3D! all i have to do is affirm and persist. i always have unwavering faith in my manifesting abilities and the law. i never fail. i am successful at every single thing i do. manifesting is so effortless. no amount of doubt, worry, fear, anxiety, intrusive thoughts or events can ever, and i mean EVER stop my manifestations. why? because i said so. this is MY life. i make the rules. so if i say i manifest easily, the 3D conforms instantly and that i have all of my desires, then it is a FACT. i’m literally unstoppable. everything i want is inevitable. my only task is to persist, sit back and relax as the 3D reflects my 4D. it all happens so fast, but what else do you expect from a master manifester like me?

SOMETHING TO NOTE:

most of the time, people think affirming on loop is saying it like a robot but what you don’t realize is that you’re affirming as if you’re reading a book. it’s not filled with enthusiasm but it’s not exactly monotone either. stop overthinking it. it’s like the voice you’re reading this post with. correct?

again, soon enough, your affirmations will feel natural and you won’t feel the need to affirm constantly. the routine above was given for those who battle intrusive thoughts, making your affirmations dominate to the point where you don’t waver.

QUOTES on STATES:

❝ I paid thirty dollars for my first suit. Today a suit will cost me $200.00, but regardless of the cost, when the suit is new I am aware of it. But let me wear it long enough for it to feel natural and I will no longer be conscious of it. The same is true for a state. You may desire the state of fame. If you will think you are famous and remain conscious of the state long enough to make it natural, as the thoughts flow from you they become a natural part of your body of beliefs, and the world will proclaim your fame. ❞

❝ I urge you to use your own wonderful creative power and deliberately move into the state of your choice. Make it now by occupying the state long enough so that it feels natural. Haven’t you had a suit of clothes that felt so new you were conscious of them every moment? I know when I bought my first suit I walked down Fifth Avenue thinking everyone I passed knew my suit was new. People passing paid no attention to me, but I was so aware, so conscious of my new suit. That’s exactly that happens when you move into a new state. If the state of affluence is new, you think everyone knows it, but no one knows or cares whether you are rich or poor, so walk in the state until it becomes natural. The moment the feeling is natural, wealth is yours! ❞

𝐕. ENDING NOTE

i love you. read that again. you can do it. read that again. i am so so so so proud of you. read that again! you are so strong, you have SOO much potential and power. it’s time for you to tap into it, angel. stop making excuses. stop telling yourself you can’t do it. stop the nonsense! you’ve dealt with your hard circumstances long enough, it’s time for you to turn to the person who can make that change (you) and make it happen. i’m really sorry you have to go through what you did. you certainly do not deserve the unkind treatment. give yourself a hug and tell yourself that this. is. it. you’re going to make the change. you know it and i do too. it’s possible. nothing is impossible for the person who believes! keep the faith in yourself. nothing can stop you.

it’s like those movies where the mc finds out they hold so much power. they doubt it because of the life they’ve had so far but once they give it a shot, they become the most powerful hero ever. you are that hero!!!

i love you and i am, again, giving you the biggestttt hug ever.

now, with that being said, @blushydior​ will no longer be taking asks regarding this topic. i’ve cleared most of the questions that could ever arise. you don’t need my guidance anymore after this post! im seeing you off now. i love you. stay safe. know that you’re loved and hold the power to change your life.

— kisses from bambi ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

ps. make sure you clicked the words that have links! <3 (the links are missing)

𝐕𝐈. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Something you wish you could’ve told yourself before you manifested it all to make things easier for anyone struggling:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

you guys are beating yourself up for something so simple. take a step back and realize that. you’re already dealing with such hard circumstances, so why are you literally degrading yourself for something so within your power and reach? tell yourself everything is going to be okay. you’re always doing your best. you deserve the WORLD.

I could write a whole novel, combine all the posts on tumblr teaching the law of assumption, and every helpful ask out there but at the end of the day, YOU are the only person who could change your life. YOU make the call. turn every doubtful question to a positive one, when in doubt, turn inwards toward the 4D and know that it is real. it is done the second you affirmed it so.

SPEND TIME ALONE.

i can NOT stress this enough. i didn’t include the details of my time alone in phase 2 for nothing. you’ll see that you can answer your own questions. you’ll catch the thoughts you missed because you have always been so adamant on getting answers to questions you already knew. take a deep breathe and stay firm.

SEE WHAT’LL HAPPEN IF YOU DON’T GIVE UP.

What did you affirm to get your dream life?

basically my affirmations i gave above and these. all i used were blanket affirmations.

What does persisting mean to you? What does persisting really feel like? Is it just like a mental diet? or what?

“persisting is sticking to what you want / the end no matter what you’re shown, told, and what you experience + picking yourself up after letting any negative emotions & thoughts pass by.” — blushydior from this ask here (sadly the link is missing:()

+ keeping your thoughts in line of the same category. to word this in a different way, i can affirm so many affirmations just as long as they mean the same thing to me!

“it also is a mental diet. we’re always persisting in something. it’s just a matter of what you’re persisting in. you either persist in your desire or negative/non-beneficial thought 24/7.”

“in your post about how you changed your life, you said you just affirmed and persisted. but from your other posts it seems like you read neville goddard books. so did you just affirm or did you do imaginal acts too? i get confused when people say “just affirm and persist” cause neville never said that.” (original ask here) (note from Eli: the link is missing).

“yes, i read his books and sometimes i would do imaginal acts but i would only do that bc it helped me get by my circumstances, yk? like if i was overwhelmed i would just daydream lol. its like how i read books to escape to another world. but i would say, affirming and persisting was what i focused more on.

i just used what worked for me and used his quotes as a reminder of the power of man. i didn’t want to bound myself to one’s teaching constantly worrying if im doing it “right” or not so instead, i went back to his quotes that consisted of telling me to persist, look inwards, finding confirmation in my imagination, etc whenever i needed a pick me up.

but correct me if i’m wrong, i’m pretty sure many of the success stories he shared consisted of people simply decreeing their desires and feeling the wish fulfilled simply by repetition and acceptance of their assumption.”

What is saturating your mind?

read about it here (the link is missing, but Basically it is repeating an affirmation every minute or hour until you feel fulfilled)

Do we have to believe our affirmations? Did you ever doubt the law in the process?

no, i did not believe my affirmations and YES of course i doubted the law but i kept persisting either way because what could i lose? and here i am.

Did you just affirm, persist, maintain a mental diet and that’s it? No SATS, going to the void, lullaby, repeating affirmations? Did you just got it sleep?

just affirming and persisting. sure, the occasional lullaby, i usually affirmed for 10 seconds max before i gave up. i couldn’t sleep without imagining some romantic scenario LOL #bambiexposed

How to deal with manipulation and narcissism?

remind yourself that you’re in advantage because you know about the law of assumption. life is a dream, you can literally have whatever you want just by affirming. if you know that, why allow yourself succumb to other people’s thoughts and beliefs? i couldn’t allow other people’s thoughts ruin my chance of living my dream life. the thought of it alone gave me the worst feeling.

How did you tackle the feelings of having no hope? + After being in the victim state for so long what did you do to get yourself out and actually stay out?

i persisted on loop whenever i doubted the law. i reminded myself that it doesn’t hurt to just be quiet, affirm and persist to live my dream life. just do it. you gain nothing from turning back to your old habits. see what’ll happen if you don’t give up. ❝ Do you always turn to your imagination and, no matter what happens, do you remain faithful to the state imagined? If you do, you have passed the test. But if every little rumor, doubt, or fear can move you around like a pawn on a chessboard, then you are not keeping the faith! ❞ ❝ Objects seem so independent of our perception of them that we incline to forget that they owe their origin to imagination.❞

What was the timeframe of when you got your desires?

about a week after deciding to be strict with self discipline, mind you, i was dealing with hard circumstances and intrusive thoughts for years. within this time span, i had entered sabbath so i immediately got my desires.

How did you kept a positive mindset when it looked like there was no movement?

refer back to phase 3

What was your affirming routine?

AT FIRST, when i started to get sick of overconsumption and not getting my desires, i knew my mind wasn’t saturated/my desires were not my dominant thoughts. so, i decided to be strict with myself. i reminded myself with pieces of paper in my room that said: ❝ PERSIST. new story only!❞ ❝ AFFIRM!❞

❝ 1.) the 3D conforms instantly.

2.) AFFIRM THE DESIRED

3.) BE LOT.❞

and taped them on the wall infront of my bed & one on my door so i can see it before i head out.

i didn’t need them anymore after a few days. (phase 3 & 4)

What did you do on all the days you woke up and things were still the same?

stop affirming that you don’t see results. i flipped the thought of “nothing’s changed.” to “i am in my desired reality, it is done.” and so on. be stern and remind yourself that you are in control. don’t fall prey to the 3D. turn inwards, find confirmation in the 4D. read quotes above.

How did you not react to the 3D?

i allowed myself to be angry. if i wanted to cry, i did. if i wanted to vent, i did. i ranted my feelings out in my head, aloud or in a journal then proceeded to go back to the new story after i cooled down.

But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?”

you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track. i ranted for 2% of my 24 hour days. the other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and i felt more at ease. i held onto that feeling because i knew this was when i would get my desires and i did. letting out and actually feeling your feelings is important. you’re not a robot.

Did you script how your life would be?

no.

(.𖥔 ݁ note from Eli: here's her post about her life before and After she changed it with LOA, anyway i wanted to make it in a post since the Google document can't let you make a copie of it and plus you can't take screenshots which René didn't allow)

[cheetabites]

☆彡 cinnamon ˳༄꠶

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for dae-ho

sfw headcannons

★ this sweet boy truly struggles internally with how to act within society. the toxic masculinity his father had pushed on him had left him ashamed to truly express himself with others; he isn’t happy with how society wants men to act in such a superior and oppressive way, but is still sensitive to people catching eye of him acting in the opposite way (sensitive and compassionate)

★ he also didn’t receive any counseling or therapy after returning from the marines because he still held the internal belief that being vulnerable and expressing his difficulties wasn’t ‘manly’ enough

★ he’s the type of man that’ll help an old person cross the street, give his last dollar to a person at the register that was one dollar short, and would bring a jar of nuts to the park just incase he sees squirrels

★ he might’ve not received any professional help, but his mom and his older sisters were always there for him; when his father wasn’t around i’d like to picture them taking him out so they could play the games they played when they were younger - gonggi in particular because he liked to prove that ‘he still got it’

★ he’s the best pet owner ever. in some ways i can picture him having one pet that the whole family loves and spoils - yes, they wear the little sweaters when it’s cold and the boots when the pavement is hot - or a random ass pet he adores and the family is grossed out by. i can picture one of his friends gifting him a pet rat or turtle as a joke, but he takes it seriously (#1 dad) ; he vents to them sometimes

nsfw headcannons

★ sexual encounters is not a place where he’ll allow his fathers toxic masculinity to dictate his actions; he’s definitely a sub. when he’d found it out though, he was ashamed. particularly because it was when he was having sex with another partner - he was on top yes, but the ecstasy he was feeling at the time caused him to look down at them and beg for them to praise him (they did, and he cried in their neck afterwards)

★ he’s really sensitive, and i mean so sensitive that you could probably overstimulate him if you’d made him cum more than twice

★ he likes having his hair tugged; especially in situations where you brush your fingers through his hair first before gripping onto it so you can direct his gaze towards your own or when he’s giving you head

★ he enjoys the sex, yes. but he enjoys the aftercare more; having you wipe him down while you praise him for how good he was makes him feel so safe. he also seems like one who gets really sleepy after sex so i don’t think you’ll be able to make it to the bath. but when you do, he gets really shy and flustered

★ he loves seeing you wear the lingerie sets you’d bought while you were out. it gets him hard yes, but he mostly just admires how it enhances your beauty, so you’d never really had sex with them on. he does have a polaroid picture of you wearing a piece in his wallet and he protects that picture with his life - and i mean he’d lay flat on the train tracks if he’d ever lost it cause he cares about you too much :(

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 3 2025.

[mangooes]

Coffe machines saves the world! (Sylus trying to bribe his wife into forgiving him)

part 1

Sylus Qin did not belong in a mall.

Towering in black-on-black designer layers (ahem his usual outift), his snow-white hair tousled like a stormcloud, and crimson eyes that screamed "touch me and die," he moved through the luxury appliance store like a dragon on a mission.

Flanked by Luke and Kieran—who were definitely trying to blend in and failing miserably—the trio stuck out like a sore thumb amid weekend shoppers and neon sales signs.

“Okay, boss,” Kieran muttered, eyeing the fifth top-shelf espresso machine being wheeled toward them. “This one literally syncs to her heartbeat and makes a latte that spells ‘I love you.’ We sure we’re not going overboard?”

Sylus didn’t answer.

He simply lifted a brow, scanning the next row. “Which one does cappuccinos with foam art?”

Luke sighed. “Boss. We’ve bought ten.”

“I said I’d fix it.” Sylus’s voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that meant someone was about to die if his wife didn’t forgive him.

So, they bought them all.

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

(Name) sat curled up on the couch, flipping through a magazine with all the grace and passive-aggressiveness of a wife on a caffeine protest. Her brows lifted ever-so-slightly as she heard the front doors unlock… and the unmistakable sound of way too many boxes being wheeled in.

Then—

“Sweetie,” Sylus’s low voice echoed through the halls, laced with dramatic sincerity. “I’ve returned bearing peace offerings.”

He walked in, holding a grand bouquet of blood-red roses in one hand and a smug, sultry smirk in the other. Behind him, Luke and Kieran each carried a stack of coffee machine boxes taller than them.

She didn’t even look up.

That hurt.

Sylus stepped closer, placing the bouquet on the table beside her. “You’ll want to see this. Limited edition. Imported from Italy. One of them talks.”

Silence.

He crouched beside her, resting his arms on the couch cushion as he looked up at her like a misbehaving dog that just destroyed your favorite pillow. “Kitten…”

She flipped a page.

“Really?” he muttered, leaning closer.

Still nothing.

“Oh, she’s being cruel,” Kieran whispered from the hallway.

Luke winced. “He’s gonna snap. This is it.”

And then—he did.

Sylus didn’t say another word. He stood, stalked around the couch, and before she could fully process it—whoosh—she was gently but firmly trapped in his arms from behind.

She gasped, squirming. “Sylus—!”

“No,” he growled playfully, nuzzling her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw. “You don’t get to ignore me after I nearly caused an international incident over a coffee machine.”

“You deserved it.”

“I also deserve kisses,” he purred.

She turned her face away.

So Sylus dipped his head lower, whispering into her ear with dangerous fondness. “You know… I could’ve just kidnapped a barista and locked him in our pantry. But I was merciful.”

Her shoulders trembled from holding back a laugh.

Then—his Evol shimmered through the room. Silky tendrils of black and crimson mist coiled gently around her wrists, ghosting like a warm breeze. Her hand floated upward as if guided by some magnetic pull—and Sylus’s own hand met hers, intertwining their fingers slowly, palm to palm.

He brought her hand to his lips.

“I bought a dozen machines…” he whispered against her skin. “But there’s only one thing that makes my mornings worth living. You.”

(Name)'s breath hitched.

“…You’re being dramatic.”

“Says you, I’m in love,” he corrected softly.

She finally turned her face toward him. “You’re also still not forgiven.”

“Oh?” Sylus grinned—and stole a kiss.

Her lips barely parted from the shock before his mouth molded against hers, gentle but claiming, full of apology and heat. She whined against it, trying not to melt—but it was Sylus, and Sylus always won when he got like this.

When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

Sylus smirked. “Thank the gods. Now… which machine makes caramel macchiato?”

From the hallway, Kieran muttered, “I told you she’d fold.”

Luke sighed. “At least now I don’t have to carry the other dozens of espresso boxes to the garage.”

Right so uh disclamer this is acctually the part 2 of the broken coffe machine and upset wife scenario! And i just feel like i had to make a continue ver of it because i love a man who is whipped <3

[novaursa]

Flame Kissed

- Summary: As you and Aegon never had a problem expressing your desires openly, neither did your dragons. And as both of you just tormented the inhabitants of the Red Keep, your dragons kept the whole capital awake for weeks.

- Pairing: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has same violet eyes as Aegon, and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 1 773

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening light filtering through the tall windows of the Red Keep. Your shared laughter filled the room as you playfully pushed him onto the bed. His platinum blond hair, tousled and wild, framed his handsome face, and his eyes, the same striking violet as yours, glowed with mischief and desire.

"Y/N, you can't just pounce on me like that," Aegon teased, though he made no effort to push you away.

"You love it when I do," you retorted with a smirk, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips.

He groaned appreciatively, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Gods, I do. What would I do without you?"

"Be bored out of your mind," you quipped, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his face.

Aegon’s touch was fire against your skin, his lips tracing a path down your neck now, setting your nerves alight. The world beyond your chambers ceased to exist, lost in the fervor of young love and unrestrained desire.

"Y/N," Aegon whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "do you think they'll hear us again?"

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the distant mating roars from the Dragonpit. "Only if we’re louder than Starfyre and Sunfyre."

His eyes sparkled with determination, and he pulled you closer, his hands roaming with a possessive hunger. “A challenge, then?”

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours with a fervor that left you breathless. Your bodies entwined, you gave yourselves over to the heat of the moment, each touch and kiss a testament to the connection you shared. 

The two of you lost yourselves in each other, your movements becoming more urgent, driven by the undeniable bond. The heat between you was mirrored by the dragon fire coursing through your veins, the primal connection of your dragons, Starfyre and Sunfyre, heightening your senses.

Just as your passion reached its peak, the door to your chambers burst open. You barely had time to pull a sheet around yourself before Tyland Lannister stood gaping at the doorway, his face a picture of shock and horror.

"My apologies, Your Grace, I—" Tyland stammered, his cheeks flaming as red as his house's banner. He quickly averted his eyes, but not before muttering, "The dragon cries, the city can't find any sleep for days now... Queen Alicent wanted me to inform you..."

Aegon, always the quicker thinker, burst into laughter, his voice rich and full of amusement. "Tyland, you have the worst timing imaginable."

"Clearly," Tyland managed, his voice strained and his eyes widened further, if that was even possible, and he turned on his heel, muttering under his breath about the improprieties of royalty. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it, then,” he stammered, practically tripping over his own feet as he fled.

As soon as the door closed behind him, you and Aegon erupted into fits of laughter, the awkwardness of the moment melting away. “Well, that’s one way to scare a Lannister,” Aegon says as he pulls you back to him, his hands sliding beneath the sheet to find your skin once more.

"Where were we?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Right about here," you replied, your own hands eager to resume their exploration of his body.

Tyland Lannister hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep, his face still flushed from the scene he had stumbled upon. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of the dragons' mating cries echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the intense bond shared by Starfyre and Sunfyre, and by extension, their riders.

Reaching the king’s chambers, Tyland paused to compose himself before entering. Inside, King Viserys lay on his bed, looking pale and frail, with Alicent and Grand Maester Orwyle attending to him. The room was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and the tension of unspoken worries.

"Your Grace," Tyland said, bowing deeply. "I bring news."

Alicent turned her sharp gaze on him, her brow furrowing. "What is it, Tyland? And why do you look so flustered?"

Tyland cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. "I went to fetch Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N, but... they are currently indisposed."

Viserys coughed weakly, his voice barely a whisper. "Indisposed? Explain yourself, Tyland."

Tyland shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Alicent, whose eyes had narrowed even further. "I found them... together, Your Grace. In a rather... intimate situation."

Alicent's lips pressed into a thin line, her annoyance palpable. "This is hardly the time for such distractions. The entire capital is on edge with those dragons of theirs. It’s been a week of incessant noise, and now this?"

Viserys managed a weak smile, his eyes glazing with a hint of amusement. "Young love," he murmured. "At least they are well-matched."

"Well-matched or not," Alicent snapped, "they have responsibilities. We cannot afford for them to be so... preoccupied, especially now."

Grand Maester Orwyle stepped forward, his expression grave. "The king's health is of paramount concern. Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N must be made aware of the urgency of the situation."

Tyland nodded, still feeling the lingering embarrassment of his earlier encounter. "I will speak with them again, Your Grace."

"No need," Viserys said softly. "Let them be, for now. They will come when they are ready."

Alicent huffed, clearly dissatisfied. "Very well, but they should be reminded of their duties."

As Tyland bowed and exited the chamber, the sound of the dragons outside seemed to grow louder, their cries a reminder of the powerful connection that mirrored the one shared by Aegon and Y/N. The whole of King’s Landing was indeed on edge, the unrest within the castle walls reflecting the unease of the city below.

Back in their chambers, you and Aegon lay entwined, the earlier intrusion by Tyland a distant memory as you lost yourselves in each other once more. Aegon’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

"Do you think Tyland will ever recover from his shock?" Aegon asked with a chuckle.

You laughed softly, your fingers running through his hair. "He might need some time. But we should probably make an appearance soon."

Aegon sighed, his hold on you tightening. "I know. But for now, let’s just stay like this a little longer. The world can wait."

You nodded, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his embrace. For a few precious moments, the worries of the world faded away, leaving only the love and passion that bound you and Aegon together. 

A week later, the dragons' cries had finally ceased, bringing a blessed silence to the Red Keep. The sunroom, bathed in morning light, was a tranquil haven where you and Aegon enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. You sat comfortably in his lap, sharing food and laughter, the ease of your affection evident to anyone who might see.

Aegon's fingers lazily traced lines on your thigh as he fed you a piece of fruit, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think I could get used to this," he murmured, his voice a low purr.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I’m sure you could. But we both know we have duties to attend to eventually."

Just then, Tyland Lannister appeared behind the servants, his expression a mix of determination and apprehension. Aegon’s gaze flicked up, and he grinned, his amusement clear. "Well, if it isn’t our dear friend Tyland. Come to join us for breakfast?"

Tyland cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "Your Highnesses, I, uh, need to speak with you both."

"Do you now?" Aegon replied, his tone light. "Well, don't just stand there. Have some breakfast first. We wouldn’t want you fainting from hunger, would we, Y/N?"

You smiled, playing along. "Of course not. Please, sit, Tyland."

Tyland hesitated but ultimately sat across from you, trying to maintain his composure. "Thank you, Your Grace. But I’m here on a matter of importance."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his hand never leaving your thigh. "Importance, you say? Do tell."

Tyland struggled to find his words, clearly flustered by your and Aegon’s casual intimacy. "The Queen has requested that I remind you both of your responsibilities. The King’s health is fragile, and your presence is required more frequently at court."

Aegon leaned back, his expression one of mock seriousness. "Responsibilities, hm? And here I thought my only duty was to ensure my dear wife’s happiness."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, leaning into Aegon. "It seems we’ve been neglecting our duties, my love."

Tyland’s face grew redder by the moment, his discomfort evident. "Your Highnesses, this is no laughing matter. The Queen is quite insistent that you both... focus."

Aegon’s eyes twinkled with defiance as he picked up another piece of fruit, offering it to you. "Did you hear that, Y/N? We need to focus. Perhaps Tyland has a point. Maybe we should focus on finishing our breakfast first."

You took the fruit from Aegon’s fingers, your gaze never leaving his. "I think that’s an excellent idea."

Tyland groaned inwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Please, Your Highnesses, I beg of you. The King’s condition is worsening, and the Queen is at her wit’s end."

Aegon’s demeanor softened slightly, though his playful spirit remained. "Alright, Tyland. We understand. We’ll make more of an effort to be present. But you must admit, we’ve earned a bit of time to ourselves, haven’t we?"

Tyland sighed, seeing a glimmer of hope. "Yes, Your Highness. But please, remember your duties. The realm depends on it."

Aegon nodded, his tone becoming more serious. "We will, Tyland. You have our word."

Relieved, Tyland stood to leave. "Thank you, Your Highnesses. I will inform the Queen."

Aegon’s playful mood returned, and he leaned in to whisper something in your ear that made you giggle. Tyland cleared his throat again, looking as if he might bolt from the room at any moment.

“Is there anything else, Tyland?” Aegon asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

Tyland shook his head quickly. “No, Your Grace. That will be all.”

As Tyland hurried out of the room, Aegon’s laughter filled the space. “Poor Tyland. I think we may have traumatized him.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Aegon softly. “We should probably behave, at least a little.”

Aegon sighed dramatically. “If we must. But only for you, my love.”

The two of you continued your breakfast, the weight of your responsibilities momentarily lightened by the shared laughter and love that bound you together. The sunroom seemed brighter, the food tasted sweeter, and for a little while longer, the world outside could wait.

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

1.- Part one.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. dry humping. dirty talking. power struggle. both you and kuroo are kinda feral. lemme know if i missed anything ;3 wc. 5.6k an. i blame this on sir mix-a-lot and my instagram fyp. enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

And when I catch a little kitty lookin', oh, so tough Bring hot water 'cause I might get stuck!

Nekoma wasn't huge, but it wasn't some tiny rundown school either. It wasn't a prestigious rich-kid academy like Fukurodani, but it wasn't a dump. You'd call it perfectly average—just balanced enough to create a decent social jungle. The school had its fair share of quiet nerds, top-ranking students, sports freaks, and, of course, the so-called delinquents, as adults liked to whisper whenever they saw kids with piercings, dyed hair, or a cigarette hanging from their lips.

You? You belonged in the latter category.

Which is why, during lunch break, you and your bestfriend Emi had a cigarette and a canned coffee for lunch, tucked into a secluded corner she'd found and claimed after a teacher caught you smoking behind the gym a week before and threw a fit about it, forcing you to find a better place.

You leaned against the sun-warmed brick, one boot crossed over the other as the late morning light sliced through the cracks between the buildings. The sky was too blue for how shitty the day had started.

"Inukai-sensei scolded you again? What a drag." Emi's voice broke through the idle silence, syrupy with a mix of concern and genuine amusement. She had her eyes closed and face looking up into the sky, bathing in the sun like a happy cat.

You nodded in response.

"Another lecture about skipping class and how I could amount to more and to 'please think of my future' and yeah... The usual." You waved a hand in the air as if you could swat away his voice. Just retelling it made your skin itch with anxiety. You patted your blazer for your cigarettes.

Emi let out a thoughtful hum. And opened her eyes to study you with a tilt of her head.

"Well, he's right. You used to get really good grades in first year..."

You shot her a disgusted look, scrunching your nose.

She laughed, brushing you off. "Hey, I'm just saying. Why waste your time with us anyway? Why don't you listen to Inukai-sensei and get your grades back up?"

"I just don't get the point of chasing 'academic success' All that effort just to end up working in some office that'll suck me dry and bury me under unpaid overtime like the rest of this country?" You scoffed, still patting your pockets. "Bullshit... Where are the fucking things?"

Emi rolled her eyes and reached into your bag, retrieving the familiar box with a practiced flick of her wrist. She stole one for herself, already slipping it between her glossy lips.

Emi was loud, pouty, and wore trouble like lip gloss. Shiny, sweet, and impossible to ignore, she floated through the chaos of Nekoma High with a glossy grin, a one too many questionable friends (one of them being you). The perfect image of a bleach-blonde puppy pretending to run with the big dogs.

But underneath the fake lashes and the too-short skirts, she was pure heart: loyal, messy, a little reckless, and your best friend.

She loved too fast, forgave too easily, and stuck to your side like her life depended on it. In a city full of knives disguised as smiles, Emi was an open wound— raw, real, and stupidly brave. A rare trait in Nekoma. You'd landed more than a few punches to protect her, and you were willing to land many more if it meant she was out of harm.

"You sound like such a snob, Y/N."

You snorted as she handed over the box.

"Thanks, babes," you whispered as you took it form her hands, pulling a cigarette out of the box. "Call me whatever you want. As long as I pass and graduate, the rest is useless." You bit down on the filter of your cigarette, patting your pockets again, this time in search of your lighter.

"Sure, sure. You've gotten enough lectures today. I've got my own problems anyway." Emi sighed, reaching into your left pocket and fishing out the lighter. She lit her own cigarette before handing it to you. You gave her a grateful nod. "Yasuo broke up with me. What's up with that?"

You didn't really hear her. Your lips parted just a little, cigarette hanging forgotten between your lips. Your gaze was already drifting toward something—someone—far more interesting.

Kuroo Tetsurou, striding across the schoolyard.

Broad shoulders, long legs, the kind of posture that said I know exactly who I am. His hair was a wild mess—bedhead in the most deliberate, devastating way, like he'd rolled out of someone else's bed and still looked hotter than anyone had a right to. It was all jagged spikes and volume, practically defying gravity, but somehow it worked for him.

Too well.

Next to him walked a shorter guy with a slouched posture and his eyes glued to his phone. But your eyes? Locked on Kuroo like a heat-seeking missile.

He turned his head slightly, talking to his friend with a lazy grin. You caught a glimpse of sharp, narrow eyes and a grin that looked like trouble. The kind of cocky smile that said he knew exactly what you were thinking and was daring you to think it louder.

Your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up like it was trying to break free from your chest.

Fuck, he was hot.

The kind of hot that made you want to do something reckless. Like ruin your academic record. Or make it better. Or crawl into his lap and ask him to tutor you in anything but math.

Eureka.

"Very cute," you muttered under your breath and lit up the smoke, eyes raking over him like he was your next bad decision wrapped in a school uniform.

(He was.)

Emi's voice rose in protest beside you. "Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

You crushed the flavor capsule between your teeth, a little too hard.

"Who's the hottie? Never seen him before..." you murmured, half to yourself, half to Emi—afraid that if you took your eyes from him, he'd vanish.

Emi's annoyed pout was immediately replaced by a curious squint. "Eh?"

"The tall one, next to the blondie," you pressed with a jerk of your chin in his direction, your body practically leaning forward like gravity itself was pulling you toward him. "You know him?"

Of course she did. Emi knew everyone.

She followed your line of sight—and her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! I do, he's the captain of the volleyball team... Tetsurou! Kuroo Tetsurou. He's in Class 5, I think."

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun, huh?" You rolled the name over your tongue like candy, savoring every syllable. "Class 5... so hot and smart. I like."

You needed him.

Biblically.

You didn't notice Emi's wide-eyed stare as she put two and two together, looking between you and Kuroo with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Wait—seriously? Him?" she spluttered.

You shot her a glare, brows raised.

"Don't get me wrong," she rushed, "he is hot. And he does sports. And he's like, top of his class, I'm pretty sure. Pretty good catch... for a good girl."

You scoffed. "Pfff. Who's the snob now?"

"I'm just saying. I don't think he'd mingle with the likes of us. You could have any of the guys if you wanted."

You made a face like you'd tasted something sour. "The guys have no brains. And even less charm. Brain-eating bacteria would starve up there."

She blinked. "Brain-eating... what?"

You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with a smirk. "Besides, it's the chase that's exciting. He looks like a tough cookie. I like that."

Emi snorted. "Girl, if he's a cookie, you're a box of cheap cigs. You two don't mix."

But you weren't listening anymore.

Your sights were set, your interest fully piqued. Your mind was already spinning a thousand possibilities.

And right now? You wanted Kuroo Tetsurou under you.

Or on top of you.

Or really anywhere he wanted to be. But that was beside the point.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing on him like a predator sizing up prey.

"Magnetism, honey. Polar opposites attract... sometimes."

You took another drag, eyes back on Emi. "But no pain, no gain. Whaddaya think?"

"I think you're insane," Emi said, laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I love it when you get that crazy look in your eyes. It means a shitshow's about to happen."

"Thank you, babes."

"You know it. Always got your back."

"If you need someone dead, you know who to call." You winked, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No new info there." She took her final drag, then ground the cigarette out under her shoe.

She turned back toward Kuroo and his friend. "Okay, but real talk—how're you gonna pull this off? You need a plan."

You mirrored her movement, flicking away your cigarette and pulling a tissue from your blazer pocket to pick it up.

"I'm working on one. Step zero is in motion." You handed her the crumpled tissue. "Pick up your butt or the teachers will know we smoke here now."

"Oh shit, you're right." She bent to grab the butt, mumbling as she moved. "You see? You're smart—Eh? Where are you—"

When she looked up, you were already walking.

Purpose in every step.

The distance between you and him closed with every beat of your heart, Emi's voice fading behind you as she scrambled to catch up. The sun hit your back. The breeze lifted your hair. And in your head?

You were already imagining his hands on your waist, his voice in your ear, the way that smirk might look beneath you.

He looked even taller up close.

Even hotter.

And you needed him like your lungs needed that next hit of nicotine.

The two boys stopped talking, eyes flicking up as you approached.

Kenma scrunched his nose immediately, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke before he could.

You looked up at Kuroo with a tilted head and a smirk.

"What's your name?" you asked, even though you already knew.

Conversation had to start somewhere.

You caught it—a flicker. His pupils dilated. A split-second widening of the eyes before suspicion slammed into place.

Cute.

Kuroo was already analyzing you. Running the odds. He couldn't quite place what your intentions were, but something about the way you looked at him told him it couldn't be anything good. His eyes narrowed, as though trying to peel back the layers of your carefully crafted nonchalance. He didn't trust easily, and people like you... well, you had a way of being unpredictable.

Kuroo knew you, or at least he had heard of you. You were infamous in ways that made most people wary, always getting into fights with girls and boys alike, to the point that more than one person he knew was outright afraid of you. Still, for some reason, the teachers—despite the rebellious streak you wore like armor—seemed to favor you. They kept trying to pull you out of whatever bumpy road you'd decided to drive down, but he couldn't see why.

You were... trouble. Big trouble.

But despite that, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. And damn it, he couldn't help but wonder if it was curiosity or something deeper that had him paying more attention to you than he probably should.

You were also lowkey hot to him—highkey, super pretty. But way too much trouble to pursue.

So, what the hell were you doing right in front of him?

"Kuroo Tetsurou," he answered, tone neutral.

"Nice. I'm—"

"Y/N," he interrupted. "Most people know you."

"Most people know about me." You caught the way Kenma cringed at your words. It made you smile.

There was a moment of silence between you, where you took your sweet time examining his features. His eyes flickered, maybe to keep his cool, maybe to hide the fact that he was intrigued—his eyebrows raised, like saying 'So... what do you want?'

But he was fronting. Freaking out on the inside. Still trying to make sense of you. He wasn't sure if you were about to punch him, kiss him, or just walk away. The worst part? He couldn't figure out which one he hated less.

Your unassuming smile made it hard to read you, but there was something in the way you looked at him he liked. Your eyes looked curious. Like a dog sniffing a possible friend.

Or a prey.

"Would you tutor me?" You saw Kuroo's eyes snap to Emi, whose jaw hit the floor the moment the words left your lips.

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, tutor me. My homeroom teacher has been giving me shit about grades, and I'd like to graduate."

He shrugged. "Naturally."

Oh, so he was a smartass.

"Would you?"

"Why me?"

"Aren't you in class 5? That means you're smart."

He wasn't budging. His expression remained unconvinced, the flicker of suspicion in his eyes never fully disappeared. And then there was the look on Emi's face, like she was questioning your sanity. Yeah, that confirmed it—he was right.

This was bullshit. There had to be more to it than just grades.

"I'll pay you."

Both Kenma and Emi looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Kuroo's lips curled into a sly smirk. 

Now he was really curious. 

He leaned in just a little, intrigued. "How much?"

"1000 yen." Emi's eyes almost popped out of her head. Why were you willing to pay him?

"3000 yen." Kenma's face shot to Kuroo, equally shocked. Why was he raising the price?

Your smile grew. Why was this kinda hot?

"Are you trying to scam me, smart boy?"

"Pfft, that's a miscalculation, considering you'll be taking away my study time to help you out."

You raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at you like he didn't regret this conversation anymore.

And you looked up at him like you were about to set his entire world on fire.

"2500." You offered your final bid. His smirk widened.

"Y/N!" Emi whispered in urgency.

"Done."

Your smile grew. "Okay. Thursdays after class."

"After practice," he corrected, voice smooth.

You shrugged. That worked for you.

"Can I go watch?" you teased, flashing a cheeky grin.

"I'd rather not." His smirk deepened as a pout tugged at your lips. That look suited you.

"Fair. See you Thursday, smart boy~" You waved a hand at both of them as you turned to walk away.

Kuroo watched you go, still wearing that crooked grin—but now, there was something else behind it. Interest. Amusement. A flicker of intrigue he hadn't expected to feel on a Monday. You'd crashed into his day like a storm in lip gloss and leather, and now he couldn't stop wondering what the hell you really wanted from him.

Kenma nudged his elbow. "You're actually gonna tutor her?"

"She's paying," he replied, though his gaze was still on your retreating figure. "And she's... interesting."

"Interesting's one word for it," Kenma muttered, unamused.

Meanwhile, Emi was dragging you down the school grounds back to your little corner like you were a possessed doll, whisper-screaming at you in complete disbelief.

"What the actual hell was that?!"

"What?" you said, feigning innocence as you pulled out another cigarette, mostly for effect. "I got a tutor. Aren't you proud of me?"

"You just offered to pay the guy to spend time with you—and called him smart boy, by the way. That was a little cringe."

You exhaled with a grin, smoke curling past your lips. "And he didn't say no."

Emi looked like she wanted to peel her own face off, but she wore a shocked smile.

"You're insane," she whispered, like she couldn't believe you.

But you? You felt electric. Buzzing with adrenaline and reckless possibility.

Being honest, even you couldn't explain what had you this hooked in the first place. It wasn't like you to flirt, let alone sleep around—especially not with some guy you'd just met. You weren't even that experienced, really. Just good at faking it when you had to. You knew how to make guys back off, not draw them in. And you liked it that way—especially with a friend as stupidly pretty as Emi. 

Someone had to be the one with teeth.

But the second you laid eyes on Kuroo, something unfamiliar ignited in your chest. Hot. Sharp. Wild. It didn't feel like danger, not exactly—but it burned just the same. And without thinking twice, without looking back, you lunged toward it like instinct. Like hunger.

You weren't chasing chaos for the thrill this time.

You were chasing him.

And there wasn't a single part of you planning to stop.

When Thursday rolled around—and after confirming to Emi three separate times that yes, you were going to pay him, and yes, you were trying to fuck him—you actually paid attention in class. Took notes, too, so you didn't show up to tutoring empty-handed. Half-assed, sure, but it was something. You even waited for him outside school like you said you would.

The spring wind clawed at your jacket as you leaned against the weather-worn "Nekoma Metropolitan High School" sign, flicking ash from your cigarette like you weren't freezing your ass off. Rust crept along the metal edges, and the chain-link fence behind you rattled every time the breeze picked up. You looked every bit the part of a stray dog waiting to be fed—eyes sharp, restless, scanning for the only person you'd follow home.

You caught sight of him leaving the gym, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and a little more tousled than usual from practice. Of course he wasn't alone—Kenma trailed behind, glued to his phone, already scowling once he noticed you.

Kuroo slowed when he saw you, surprise flickering across his face. He clearly hadn't expected you to follow through on your offer, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or concerned. But once it was clear you were serious—and once you confirmed the study session was happening at your place—he tossed a quick goodbye over his shoulder and followed you through the alley-strewn veins of Tokyo.

Your apartment complex looked like it had seen better decades. Rusty stairwells, cracked concrete, the faint smell of piss, mildew, and something metallic hanging in the air like a permanent tenant. Neon light from a busted sign across the street flickered through your broken blinds. The building groaned when the wind pushed through its joints, and the elevator had been broken since forever. Kuroo took it all in with that quiet, unreadable look you'd noticed he got sometimes—eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

He didn't say anything. That was somehow worse.

Inside, the place wasn't much better. Cigarette smoke clung to the yellowing walls. A stained countertop, three empty ramen cups, a crumpled paper bag, and a scrawled note waited:

For your tutoring and anything else. I have a fight today. Grandma's at the pachinko. Behave.

It was scrawled in your dad's sloppy, half-illegible handwriting. Kuroo read it, then blinked slowly like he wasn't sure if he was impressed or deeply concerned.

You grabbed the bag, tossing the note into the dented trash bin with a smirk.

"A fight." he muttered, still processing as he followed you down the hall. His gaze drifted around your room like it was offering up pieces of you without permission—band posters, a half-broken fan, a low table in front of a dusty floor TV.

"My dad's a boxer," you explained, toeing off your slippers and throwing your bag onto the bed.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "And your grandma's a—"

"Pachinko enthusiast," you finished, grin crooked. "So we've got the place to ourselves until at least nine."

You thought he'd get the hint. His Adam's apple bobbed—nervous? Excited? You couldn't tell. But when he sat down cross-legged at your low table and pulled out his books like he was actually here to tutor you, you almost groaned aloud.

"So," he said, pulling a blue folder from his bag, "let's see what you're failing."

"You actually got my report card? That's commitment." you said, raising a brow.

He ignored your teasing as he flipped through the papers. "You're not failing anything, surprisingly. But your chem grades are garbage."

You flopped dramatically onto your bed. "I'm struggling."

"I see that," he muttered, pulling out a notebook. "Come on."

You sat up with a groan and dragged yourself to the table, grabbing a pen. He didn't look at you when you settled beside him, but you caught the slight shift in his posture when your knee bumped his. He cleared his throat and started explaining covalent bonds.

You half-listened. You watched his mouth move instead. His voice was smooth, confident. He was focused, leaning over your textbook, one hand pointing at a diagram, the other scribbling notes with clean, sharp handwriting. He smelled like cheap body spray, shampoo and faint sweat from practice.

Your hand slipped onto his thigh.

"Tetsurou-kun," you said, all syrup and heat, "you can't seriously think you're here to actually study, right?"

He froze. Swallowed. Then, to your shock, lifted his gaze with forced calm. "What am I?" he asked. "Some common whore you're gonna pay to fuck?"

The words cut sharper than you expected. Your smile faltered. You hadn't meant it like that. You weren't sure what you'd meant, actually. Suddently this whole thing felt a little shittier.

Your fingers twitched where they rested against his thigh, but you didn't pull them back.

"N-no," you muttered. "I just—" You exhaled, frustrated. "I didn't think this far ahead, okay?"

He watched you. Read through you. His expression softened a little, the edge in his voice gone. But he still didn't touch you.

You were about to say something else—maybe change the subject, maybe apologize—when he talked again, teasing.

"You actually want to learn this or not?"

You blinked, thrown off. "Huh?"

He held up the notebook. "Chemistry."

You stared at him. Then, grudgingly, nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

You leaned in, this time actually paying attention. Took notes. Bit your lip when he smirked at your compliments and felt your stomach tighten every time he laughed when you cursed at the confusing parts.

"Not gonna lie, you make this sound way easier than the teacher. What the fuck," you grumbled.

He seemed to like the praise, smiling beside you while he continued to explain. His voice settled into your ears like warm honey. When you answered his questions right, he smirked. When you got one wrong, he nudged you with his knee and explained it again, slower this time. You hated that he was good at this. That he made you want to keep going just to see the way his eyes lit up when you understood something.

Eventually, the lesson became background noise. Your focus shifted to the way his knee brushed yours, to the way he stole glances at your thighs like he didn't want to be caught but also didn't care enough to stop. To the way his fingers moved—long, elegant, tapping the page as he talked, not realising he was doing it. His mouth, his voice, his brain—God, this was so much worse than you'd planned. He was actually hot and smart.

You were openly staring at his lips when he finally noticed.

"What?" he asked, brow arching.

"Nothing," you said, leaning back with a slow smirk. "Just wondering how you make covalent bonds sound hot."

That got a laugh, rough and short. But his ears were a little pink.

"Thought you liked ionic bonds more," he teased with a raised brow.

"Don't get me wrong, ionic bonds are cool. Covalent bonds are... hot."

"That's a new one," he said, voice low. "Gonna start rating chemistry terms by sex appeal now? Want me to whisper 'intermolecular forces' next?"

You snorted. "Don't tempt me. I might actually learn something."

"Blasphemy," he said, mock-scandalized. "You learning? In my presence? Next thing I know you'll be asking about valence electrons like you mean it."

You sat up, leaned in, and closed the book between you with a soft thud.

"Okay, I was good. I listened. Took notes. Didn't even flirt for twenty straight minutes." You raised a brow. "Now, when are you gonna stop pretending this is actually about chemistry?"

That wiped the grin off his face—but not entirely. It curved at the corners, wry and knowing. His gaze didn't leave yours. You saw the fraying edges of restraint, the tension vibrating between you.

"Isn't it?" he asked, the words almost gentle.

But his pupils blew wide when they dropped to your lips. You caught it. And still, you didn't move. You weren't about to force it. A single "no" or even a flicker of hesitation from him and you were ready to throw in the towel, swallow your embarrassment for the rest of the session—maybe learn some more chemistry and then avoid him for the rest of your last school year. Hopefully, the rest of your life.

You let the silence hang a beat longer.

"Look..." you exhaled. "I'm not really good at this. I just pretend I am."

That caught him off guard.

He could tell—you were slick, but he was smart. Sharp enough to see through you and that overconfident persona you put on, but he hadn't expected you to admit it. Not like this. Not in your room, with his textbook sitting closed between your thighs. At least, he knew he wouldn't have.

You saw the shift immediately—his breath catching, his posture tightening ever so slightly.

"Huh," he said after a second. "Guess I'm not the only one bluffing their way through this study session."

"So you're saying you don't get turned on by covalent bonds?"

That earned a soft huff. He leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice low.

"Depends. Are you offering to share some electrons, or...?"

You laughed. His hand moved slowly, fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. And when he looked at you this time, it wasn't with that usual playful glint.

It was something raw. Like honesty.

"I like you," you admitted, tilting your head slightly. "But I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Good," he murmured. "Then we're even."

Then, slowly—finally—he leaned in to meet your lips.

Soft at first. Testing. But when you answered back—with a hunger he didn't expect—the leash snapped. His hand slid behind your neck, anchoring you against him as his mouth claimed yours. His tongue licked into your mouth with filthy, unhurried precision, dragging a whimper from your throat.

He kissed like he meant it. No fumbling. No hesitation.

You gasped when he tugged your hair just enough to tilt your head back, and the gasp melted into a moan when his other hand traced up your spine, pulling you closer—guiding you over to sit on his left thigh. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing holding you up.

"You're all talk," he muttered against your lips, grinning when you shivered after a well-placed flex of his thigh. "But so am I."

You squeezed your eyes shut—dazed, aching, and a little embarrassed.

"...Shut up," you breathed, your usual sass caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding in your chest.

His smile turned downright wicked. His mouth dragged along your jaw, down your neck. You squirmed, knees bracketing his thigh as his hands slipped under your shirt, palms hot and rough against the bare skin of your back and waist.

"You don't have to act tough," he whispered, voice rough and reverent. "I think I like you more like this. Messy."

His mouth dipped to your collarbone, kissing and biting the sensitive skin. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Your head tilted back to give him more space, heart thudding so hard you thought it might crack your ribs. Your tough-girl act had fully melted now, replaced with the kind of hunger you'd been feeling since the first time you saw him—the kind of hunger you didn't know how to fake.

"God," you gasped. "You're not supposed to be good at this..."

He chuckled low in his throat, kissing a line down your chest. "Top of my class, remember?"

"Smart boy..." you growled—but it came out more like a broken, desperate plea. "If you don't—"

He cut you off with another kiss, deeper, devastating. His hands dragged up your stomach, slow and sure, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra with maddening patience.

You tried to shove him gently back, straddling his lap like you could wrestle some control back—but the second his dark, hungry gaze locked onto yours, you felt your composure crack.

"You sure you're inexperienced?" you asked, trying to tease—but your voice betrayed you, too breathless to land the hit.

He didn't even dignify it with a real answer. Just kissed you again, harder—tongue sweeping into your mouth like he fucking owned it. His hands clutched your hips like he was trying to brand himself into your bones, and after a small, involuntary moan slipped from your throat, you pulled back with a narrowed look, silently demanding a response.

He just shrugged. That maddening, smug little shrug. Like he hadn't just made your whole body tremble.

"I'm a fast learner," he said, trailing his mouth down your throat, voice dropping lower.

A shiver went up your spine as he bit down at your pulse point, and you whimpered, threading your fingers into his messy hair and tugging.

Still, you didn't stop him.

Didn't want to.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? To see if all that cocky arrogance and big-dick energy were just a front.

And judging by the thick length of him, already hard beneath you and pressing snug under your embarrassingly wet core... You might've bitten off more than you could chew.

Kuroo unbuttoned your shirt slowly, peeled it off your shoulders, and tossed it aside—then paused for just a second.

His gaze was scorching.

Starving. Almost reverent.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed. "What a pain in the ass."

"Huh? Which one is it?" you whispered, smirking—until his mouth latched onto the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to make you tense a little. It burned in the best way—lingering and possessive.

He unclasped your bra like he'd done it a thousand times, and the second you were bare in front of him, his hands were everywhere—palming your tits, dragging his thumbs over your nipples until they were tight and sensitive. Squeezing. Claiming.

Then his mouth followed.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

His tongue circled a nipple, then flicked it—slow at first, then rougher—and you arched with a soft, broken moan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled. "You're dangerous."

He laughed against your skin, biting just enough to make you jolt. "Top of my class," he muttered again—infuriating, smug, hot as hell.

You rocked down harder, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants, and his breath stuttered. He gripped your hips tighter—bruising—guiding your movement with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuuuck..." he breathed. "Do that again."

You did—and something snapped.

His hands shot down to unzip your skirt, and you let him, lifting your hips so he could drag it off and toss it somewhere on your floor, leaving you in nothing but lace panties. Bare thighs. Wet as hell.

He didn't even strip off his shirt, still fully clothed—his mouth just went right back to you, trailing down your chest with a reverent slowness that made your pulse jackhammer. You felt his lips, his tongue, worshipping every inch like it meant something, while little groans and moans escaped his lips as you rode him over his pants.

His lips were swollen, your skin flushed, legs wrapped around him as he rolled his hips into yours, pressing you harder against his thick cock. His hands moved over your body like he owned it—confident, thorough, maddeningly slow.

And every time you thought you had control, he took it back.

Faster.

Rougher.

More deliberate.

His grip bruised. His tongue fucked into your mouth like he was chasing a high. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds, and your clit throbbed with every subtle shift of your hips against him. You didn't even care how obvious it was.

You wanted him. All of him.

Every time you rocked down onto the thick bulge in his pants, you could feel the friction spark—sharp, maddening, electric. The tension inside you built in waves, tightening with each grind, pressure curling low in your belly, spiraling toward something reckless.

You were right on the edge, strung so tight you felt like you'd snap if he so much as exhaled too close.

And the worst part? He was trying to keep quiet. You could feel him trying—holding back. Swallowing grunts. Burying moans against your skin.

But they kept slipping out.

Low, desperate sounds tearing from his throat with each drag of your body against his cock. His breath caught every time you moved—hitching, stuttering, wrecked. You could feel it vibrate in his chest, in his mouth, in the fists he clenched on your hips like he was trying not to beg.

Oh you could only imagine he was a loud fucker.

Those sounds were unraveling you faster than anything else.

And still you kept grinding. Kept chasing the friction.

You were dizzy with it. Hot and wet and aching. So close you could barely breathe.

"Don't stop," you whispered—your voice low, needy. "Just... don't stop."

He froze.

Just for a beat. Just long enough to make your heart lurch.

Then he leaned in, lips ghosting over your throat, collarbone, jawline.

"Oh, I'm not stopping right now," he said, voice rough like a sin. "I'm just choosing when."

You scoffed, tried to grind again—but his grip locked you down, holding you in place like you weighed nothing.

"God, you're..." He cut himself off with a ragged breath as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties—just barely. Teasing. "Didn't know you were this fucking greedy."

"I'm not," you argued. "But you are. You're so—fuck—you're cocky."

He laughed—quiet and mean—and you felt it echo through his mouth as it dragged over your bare tits again, tongue leaving wet, hot trails.

"If I keep going..." he murmured, lips ghosting over one aching nipple, "...I'm not going to stop."

You looked down at him, lips parted, chest heaving. "That's not a problem."

But he just stared at you—hungry, calculating. Controlled to a fucking fault.

"You're paying me to tutor you," he said.

Calm. Dangerous. Like a warning—or like a reminder. To you. To himself. Maybe both.

"And you think this is a game."

Your stomach flipped. You didn't know if it was the way he said it—so calm and knowing—or the fact that he was absolutely right.

And then he leaned close, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot and voice fucking lethal.

"I'm not going to fuck you just because you're good at pretending you want me."

Your whole body locked.

Then his hand slid up between your legs, pressing against your clit—hard enough to make your spine curve, but still not enough to finish you.

"I'm going to make you mean it."

You moaned, hips bucking—but before you could chase it, he was already pulling away. Already lifting you off him.

Gone.

Just like that, the warmth of him was gone.

He stood, chest rising and falling, one hand dragging through his hair like he needed air. The other palmed his cock through his pants—thick, straining—not even trying to hide it.

"I'll see you next Thursday," he said, voice maddeningly even. "For chemistry."

Then he smirked.

And walked out.

Left you half-naked, flushed and aching, sitting on the floor of your room.

Ruined.

Fucking prick.

tags. taglist open! let me know in the comments <3

Next chapter↪

[pearlescentparade]

could you make a fic or HCs for 1x1x1x1 but the Betrayed 1x1x1x1 skin if you could :3 maybe something to do with his hair but its up to you :D

im not even gonna lie ive been basing 1x's personality off of his betrayed skin's bc those voicelines are the only hints i get at knowing how this dude acts so the only difference is that she's got hair 💔💔

grooming ❎ betrayed 1x1x1x1 x reader fluff💝

"y0u just c4n't g3t 3n0ugh 0f m3~" 1x1x1x1 boldly claims as you run your fingers through their luscious white hair, watching the strands seamlessly part as you comb through.

you roll your eyes, "ever the narcissist, aren't you? in any case, it's your hair i'm obsessed with, not you. just how do you get it to be so smooth...?" taking a small lock in your hand, you observe it in awe. seriously, no knots or tangles? they could star in a pantene commercial if he didn't look so damn scary.

a devious snicker escapes from them, and you're already mentally preparing yourself to hear what she has to say next.

"1 w4sh w1th th3 b100d 0f my v1ct1ms- AUGH!" with the piece of hair that's already in your hand, you firmly pull it as a way to scold them.

"ew! whatever, edgelord."

1x1x1x1 turns back to look at you when they feel you withdraw your hands to dig in your bag, perturbed by the loss of contact. the chains that sit around their body clink from the movement. "1 d0n't r3m3mb3r s4y1ng y0u c0u1d st0p."

"oh, be patient! i only stopped so i could get these." after scolding her gently, you emerge from your bag, revealing a brush, some hairties, and a few cutesy clips. the face 1x1x1x1 makes at the objects could be described as something akin to disgust yet intrigue. she slightly backs away, letting out a hiss, "y0u w4nt t0 d3c0r4t3 m3 l1ke 1'm s0m3 k1nd 0f p3t? hhhh.. 1 w0n't 4110w 1t."

you step forward, closing the distance he attempted to create. "don't be dramatic, it's only a few accessories! you have all that nice hair, you ought do something fun with it every now and then." the being of hatred starts to retort, but completely gives up when you begin brushing, losing himself in the pleasant feeling. you swear you can hear them faintly purring.

after a bit of brushing out, you split the back of their hair down the middle, sectioning it into two. then, collecting all of the hair on one side, you pull it into a hairtie and start tying a pigtail. the same goes for the other side. finally, to top it all off, you fasten some clips on their bangs. 1x1x1x1 suspects something is up when she hears you giggling, and confronts you when you've finished. "1 d0n't 3v3n w4nt t0 kn0w wh4t y0u'v3 d0n3 w1th m3."

"aww, c'mon, you don't, heh, you don't wanna see what you look like? not even a liiiittle?" teasingly, you hold your handmirror out to her and invite her to take a look as you struggle to stifle your laughter. if 1x1x1x1 could destroy objects with his glare, that mirror would've shattered in your hands. they growl as they snatch it from you, hesitantly lifting it to behold themself in the glass.

safe to say, he absolutely hates it. the cutesy pastel clips with bows and small animals appear alien alongside 1x1x1x1's harsh and saturated color palette, and don't even get her started on the dumb pigtails. "..th1s 1s 4WFUL! 1 l00k utt3r1y stup1d—hurry 4nd t4ke 1t 0ff!" in a fit of embarrassment, she violently shuts the mirror with a loud clap, and hurls it at you. you're barely able to catch it through your laughter.

"but—snrk—but 1x, you look so cute! keep them on, pleaaseeee?"

"4bs0lut41y n0t. th3s3 4r3 c0m1ng 0ff." one by one, 1x1x1x1 yanks the clips out of his hair and discards them onto the ground. before they can take out the pigtails, you stop them by gently grabbing her wrist.

"at least keep the pigtails in... think about it like the ponytail you always have, just on both sides of your head." he narrows their sharp red eyes, elf ears twitching in annoyance as you attempt to convince them to keep any evidence of your mini makeover.

after a long and gravelly exhale from him, he resigns, "f1n3. but d0n't th1nk y0u'll g3t 4w4y w1th th1s.. 1'll g3t b4ck 4t y0u!"

when the next round rolls around, 1x1x1x1 targets you heavily, stopping at nothing to ensure you lose. despite the other survivors' valiant efforts to protect you, she gets you. but damn, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't worth it seeing 1x1x1x1 in cutesy pigtails, even if they were enraged and chasing you.

(parade postscript: i think i'll have 1x1x1x1 talk with leetspeak bc i see a lot of ppl make him do that so why not teehee im afraid itll make her rlly similar to griefer but i think i can write them to be different enough......)

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: S/n, the rookie in Formula 1, challenges sexism in the sport, facing criticism, intense rivalries, and false accusations. Amid fierce disputes with Charles Leclerc and unexpected support, she fights to prove her talent.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warnings: Heavy sexism, fake news (??), Charles being a complete jerk, and angst. Let me know if I forgot anything.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be a short story, but I got carried away and had to split it into two parts. If you guys like it, I’ll post part two tomorrow! English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part two here! ✨

Formula 1 has always been a male-dominated sport, but who said that would stop rookie S/n from claiming her place? No, giving up was never on her list of options.

You’ve spent your whole life hearing that you would never make it into Formula 1, that you could never compete on equal footing with a man. But when you finally signed a contract with one of the top teams on the grid, you realized the biggest challenge wasn’t on the track—it was the people who wanted to see you fail.

Among those people was Charles Leclerc, one of the most beloved drivers among fans. Charles hated the attention you were getting, convinced that everything you did was just marketing and nothing more. He made sure to make that clear, with interviews filled with sharp remarks and intense on-track battles.

To Charles, S/n was nothing more than a lucky rookie. To S/n, Charles was just another jerk trying to bring her down—like so many before him.

“S/n, are you okay? S/n, if you’re alright, just answer!” Your engineer’s panicked voice echoed through the radio just as your car crashed into the tire barrier.

Everything happened in a blur. You had been fighting for the lead on the final lap against Charles Leclerc, and suddenly, you were struggling against your aching body to get out of your wrecked car.

“I’m fine. Just sore, but I’m fine,” you responded firmly as you stepped out of the cockpit.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins. You kicked the car hard before shrugging it off, trying to calm yourself. The medical team rushed over, but you simply nodded and got into the rescue vehicle, removing your helmet and letting out a long sigh.

Back at the garage, you waved briefly at your trainer and went straight to your private room.

You threw your helmet into a random corner, kicked the couch, and collapsed onto it. The TV in the room replayed the crash. Anger boiled inside you. Without thinking, you got up and stormed back to the garage, determined.

“Do you have any idea what you just did, S/n?! You could have been seriously hurt… or worse!” Your PR manager, Adele, exclaimed as soon as she saw you walk in. Your trainer, Steve, and your public relations assistant, Bree, rushed to you.

You looked down at your race suit, still covered in dust. You brushed it off lightly, but nothing could erase the bitter taste of defeat burning in your throat.

“That clueless idiot is entirely to blame! He threw me into the wall on purpose! Did you see how he closed that corner?! Asshole.” Your voice dripped with indignation.

Steve and Bree immediately agreed, but Adele sighed, running a hand down her face.

“S/n, you can’t afford to lose your head over him. The media is already waiting outside, and I can guarantee they won’t go easy on you,” Bree warned, her voice calm.

You huffed, closing your eyes for a moment before facing them.

“Sorry, guys. But this time, I won’t stay quiet.”

The paddock sweltered under the scorching sun, and the sound of cameras clicking was deafening. You adjusted your team cap, trying to hide the simmering rage.

In front of you, a journalist held out a microphone with a smug smile.

“So, S/n… Do you think that crash was due to incompetence or inexperience?”

Your jaw tightened, but the journalist continued, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.

“I mean, a lot of people were already questioning your place in Formula 1. Isn’t it obvious now that this sport just isn’t for you?”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your anger in check. But before you could respond, a firm voice cut through the air:

“Excuse me, are you planning to ask serious questions and act like a professional, or are you just going to keep up this ridiculous circus?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen standing beside you, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

The journalist tried to laugh, taken aback, but Max didn’t back down.

“If any other driver had crashed, you’d be analyzing the data, not mocking them. But of course, it’s easier to tear down a woman than admit she has talent.”

A lump formed in your throat—not from weakness, but from gratitude.

“If you want to talk about who deserves to be in Formula 1, start by actually analyzing things properly. But I suppose real journalism is too hard for you,” Max finished, pulling you away from the journalist, who stood speechless.

When the interviews finally ended, you leaned against a wall near the exit.

“Thanks, Max. I don’t think I’ve ever been at a loss for words before.”

He smirked.

“It’s alright, S/n. Look, I know what it’s like to be criticized. Not like you, of course. It must be even harder for you… Society is still so sexist. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

He draped an arm over your shoulder.

“And since I was so nice, how about you buy me an ice cream?”

You laughed, finally feeling some of the pressure and anger fade away.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

( . . . )

Just minutes after you left, the same journalist who had humiliated you was now grinning at Charles—the one responsible for your crash and disqualification. The contrast was brutal.

“Charles, what a race! You mastered the corners brilliantly and proved once again why you’re one of the best on the grid. How does it feel to be such an inspiration to aspiring drivers?”

S/n watched the broadcast while picking up her ice cream. Max had been smiling at you, but as soon as he saw your expression, his own smile faded. Your muscles had already tensed in anger. The way Charles smiled and basked in the praise made your blood boil.

“Well, I think some drivers need to understand track limits better. But… it’s all part of the learning process, right?” Charles spoke modestly, but his tone carried clear provocation.

You felt your entire body tremble. How dare he act like a hero after what he had done?

Max, standing beside you, whispered:

“S/n, don’t do anything. This is exactly what he wants.”

He gripped your arm, worried about what you might do next, and pulled you away from the shop.

You took a deep breath, but every word from that reporter felt like a knife sinking deeper into your skin.

Minutes later, Charles approached you in the corridors, hands in his pockets, wearing a smug grin.

“Are you okay, princess? That was quite the accident… Shame you couldn’t keep the car under control.”

S/n clenched her jaw, fists tightening. Every fiber of her being screamed to punch him right there.

But she held her ground, her voice a cold, sharp blade.

“Careful, Charles. Because when I win, there won’t be any excuses left to save you.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving him speechless.

When you reached your motorhome, Adele was waiting for you, pacing back and forth.

“Hey, Adele! What happened—” Before you could finish speaking, she pulled out her phone and showed you a news article.

“S/n under suspicion: FIA investigates possible data manipulation in the rookie driver’s car.”

Your eyes scanned the words, your heart pounding. A lump formed in your throat. It was a lie. A dirty, planned lie…

You felt your fingers trembling.

Lando came up behind you and read the headline over your shoulder.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Lando said, frowning. You jumped at his sudden presence and immediately turned to face him.

“They want me out of the game,” you murmured, pure anger in your voice.

You walked into the motorhome and threw yourself onto the couch, running a hand over your face, exhausted from all the accusations.

( . . . )

Two weeks had passed since your confrontation with Charles, and finally, it was another race weekend. You smiled as soon as you stepped into the paddock—nothing could shake you here.

Everything was perfect. You were in a great mood, and everything felt in perfect harmony.

As you made your way to your team’s garage, you suddenly felt someone grab your arm before you could step inside.

You stumbled, but someone caught you. Looking up, you saw Lando, his hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Lando! What happened? Why did you drag me here?” you asked, laughing at his reaction.

The worried expression on his face made your heart skip a beat.

“S/n, did you check social media today?” Lando asked, and you shook your head.

“No, why?” You asked, looking at the phone in his hand.

Frowning, you grabbed the phone, your eyes darting over the bold headline on the sports website:

“SCANDAL IN FORMULA 1: S/N INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH COMMITTED TEAMMATE”

“Internal team sources reveal that rookie driver S/n isn’t just trying to make a name for herself on the track but also off of it. According to exclusive reports, S/n has allegedly been having an affair with her teammate while he was still in a relationship with his now ex-girlfriend, who is pregnant!

The secret relationship has supposedly caused numerous arguments within the team, with rumors that tensions in the garage became unbearable after a confrontation between the ex-girlfriend and S/n. Some team members, speaking anonymously, claim that the driver’s performance has been questioned because she has allegedly been receiving internal favors to keep her seat.

Moreover, speculation has arisen that her closeness with her teammate may be influencing certain strategic decisions in her favor, raising doubts about the legitimacy of her season results.

The FIA has yet to comment on the matter, but the negative backlash is growing on social media. Has S/n used Formula 1 not only to prove her skills but also to climb the ranks through scandal?”

“WHAT?!” you shouted, and Lando quickly covered your mouth.

You felt your blood boiling in your veins. Your heart was beating so fast it echoed in your ears. You reread every sentence, every disgusting lie, and the anger inside you grew into a suffocating knot in your throat.

“This is absurd,” your best friend said in a low but furious voice. You looked at him in desperation, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body shaking with fear.

“What kind of sick joke is this, Lando?” You stared at the phone in your hand. “Who would have the audacity to make this up?! How the hell am I ‘influencing strategic decisions’ when they barely trust me to change my tires at the pit stop?” Your voice was low, but Lando looked at you worriedly, already knowing you well enough to see that you were on the verge of an outburst.

“Whoever did this wants to destroy you, no matter what. First, that ridiculous accusation about the car’s data, and now this?” Lando leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“And the worst part is that people are going to believe it!” you said, deadly serious but clearly terrified.

“S/n, I know you want to explode right now, but we need to think about what to do. They want to destabilize you.” Lando spoke, and silence fell over the place. You weren’t just angry anymore—you were sad, upset. You wanted to cry.

You took a deep breath, but it felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Your eyes returned to the phone, where the article was already going viral. In the comments, a flood of toxic messages appeared:

“Knew she wasn’t actually talented.”

“Women in F1 always end up making headlines for the wrong reasons.”

“Of course, it had to be a woman. Getting ahead the easy way.”

“Shame on the sport. Who’s protecting her?”

That was the final straw for you.

Your chest ached. Not from weakness, but from a deep sadness that made your body tremble.

Lando noticed.

“This isn’t just about destabilizing me, Lando! This is a direct attack on my reputation! They’re basically saying I’m only here because I slept with someone?! This is disgusting!” Your voice cracked, and tears started streaming down your face. You had never broken down like this in front of anyone. Your legs gave out, and Lando noticed, rushing toward you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You can’t let them win, S/n. You’re not alone, okay?” Lando murmured, running a hand through your hair.

“Why, Lando? Why do they hate me so much? I never did anything to these… assholes, I swear! I may be explosive, but what did I ever do to them?” you sobbed, your voice failing. Your best friend was always there for you, and you were grateful for that.

( . . . )

“What the hell is this!?” Max bursts out, furious, as he storms into the meeting room where you, the team leader, and the PR team are gathered.

You still felt the sadness burning inside you when the door swung open forcefully. Your teammate, Max, rushed in, his eyes blazing with indignation. Right behind him, Kelly, his girlfriend, clutched her phone tightly, as if ready to smash it.

“Oh, so you saw the ridiculous nonsense they’re spreading too? Welcome to hell.” You sigh, your tone calm. Everyone stares at you, surprised. They expected you to be angry—or worse.

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset.

“I saw it, and it’s unbelievable! Who has the audacity to make up something like this? I’m still with Kelly, and now they’re trying to turn this into a scandal?” Max says, sitting down beside you. Kelly joins him, and despite her frustration, she offers you a reassuring smile.

“This is so ridiculous it’s actually offensive! As if I would end a relationship over a stupid rumor!” Kelly says, clearly frustrated with the situation. She looks at you, her expression softening when she sees the emptiness in your eyes. “I know you would never do something like this. Just because you’re a woman working in a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to sleep with someone to earn your place. Whoever wrote this deserves to be sued.”

An unexpected tightness grips your chest. After everything you had endured that day, hearing Kelly defend you instead of accusing you was a relief you didn’t even know you needed.

You offer a small, tired smile and meet her gaze.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you whisper, and she smiles back.

“The problem was never you, S/n. The problem is people who refuse to accept that a woman can be great at what she does without relying on anyone,” Bree, your PR assistant, speaks up, and you let out a deep sigh.

Max nods in agreement.

“Exactly. They want to destroy S/n’s reputation because they know they can’t beat her on the track,” Max finally says after a long silence. He takes a deep breath, grabs his phone, and starts typing. “I’m shutting this down right now.”

Within seconds, his Instagram post is already going viral:

@maxverstappen: “Just to be clear: the rumors about S/n and me having any kind of romantic involvement are completely false. Kelly and I are together and doing great, and this attack on S/n is just another disgusting attempt to discredit her. Enough with the fake news. Respect the sport.”

Kelly follows suit, posting a story:

@kellypiquet: “Let’s get one thing straight: S/n has NEVER disrespected me or Max in any way. This story is just another example of how women in sports are attacked for no reason. Grow up.”

( . . . )

After the fake news scandal, you expected Charles Leclerc to use it against you, but to your surprise, he remained silent. No provocative comments, no sly remarks in interviews. He just watched you from a distance, as if analyzing your every reaction.

Charles truly didn’t feel comfortable mocking this kind of situation—not after everything he had witnessed.

Then, the day after the media chaos, when you were alone in the garage reviewing race data, he appeared beside you, casually leaning against the table.

“So… what’s it like being the most dangerous woman in Formula 1?” Charles asked sarcastically, but without the malice he once had.

You narrowed your eyes, already expecting a jab. You were used to his teasing.

“Listen, Charles,” you said, stepping closer, “if you’re here to make jokes, you can turn around and leave. I’m not in the mood.”

Charles crossed his arms, but his gaze lacked the arrogance it usually carried.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not here to fight. I just… wanted to see how you were holding up,” Charles said, scratching the back of his head. You hesitated for a moment, confused.

Charles was asking how you were?

“As if you care,” you spat, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

Charles shrugged.

“I’m not going to lie—I enjoy messing with you. But I know what it’s like to have the world call you a fraud.”

Your eyes widened, surprised by his admission.

“You? The media’s golden boy? Ferrari’s prodigy?” you mocked, and he rolled his eyes.

“The media chooses who to attack. Today, it’s you. Tomorrow, it could be anyone,” Charles said before walking away.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel immediate hatred for Leclerc.

( . . . )

After the false news spread, the journalists still hadn’t let go of S/n. Now, more than ever, she was the main target. During a team event, a persistent reporter started pressing her with loaded questions.

“S/n, do you think your involvement with Max could affect your career in the long run?”

The reporter’s words instantly irritated you.

“I’ve already said there was no involvement. That’s a lie.” You responded confidently, keeping your anger in check.

But he just smirked, still trying to provoke you.

“But rumors always have some truth to them, don’t they? Maybe it’s just a matter of admitting it…”

Before you could snap, Charles appeared by your side, resting a casual yet protective hand on your shoulder. You glanced at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. You raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Interesting… you ask very specific questions for someone who has no proof of anything.” Charles stared directly at the reporter. The journalist hesitated, and Charles continued. “Formula 1 is a competitive sport, but it seems like you’d rather turn it into a cheap reality show.”

You were surprised. It was the first time Charles had publicly defended you or had any interaction beyond provoking you.

When the journalist finally gave up and walked away, you turned to him, suspicious.

“Okay… what was that?” You asked slowly, still looking at his hand on your shoulder. Charles pulled it away, made a face, and wiped it on his clothes.

He shrugged.

“You already have enough problems. You don’t need an idiot like that making it worse.”

You stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“You hate me. Why are you helping me?”

Charles held your gaze a second longer than necessary before smirking.

“Who said I hate you?” He said and then walked away, leaving you more confused than ever.

( . . . )

After Charles’ unexpected defense, the dynamic between the two of you became dangerous territory. You started noticing how often he was around—sometimes teasing, sometimes protective, but always testing your limits.

Then, during another press conference, Charles defended you again. Lando and Max exchanged glances before looking at you, waiting for your reaction. You stared, mouth slightly open, completely lost. You turned to Lando and murmured:

“What was that?”

Lando just shrugged, looking even more confused than you.

That really sent some intrusive thoughts your way.

At the paddock gym? He was there, running on the treadmill next to you.

In team briefings? He made a point to sit close and throw in snide remarks.

At sponsor events? He joked about how you had to smile for journalists who clearly hated you.

And the worst part? He never crossed a certain line.

One night, after a mandatory team dinner, you were walking back to the hotel when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned abruptly—there he was, hands in his pockets, walking casually as if it was nothing.

“Are you following me now?” You rolled your eyes.

Charles gave you a slow smirk, completely unfazed by the accusation.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not that obsessed with you. We’re just heading to the same place.”

He said it so casually, making sure to emphasize the nickname he had given you, something he always did when you were alone.

You crossed your arms, suspicious.

“Right. And you just happen to always be where I am lately? And what’s with that nickname?”

Your arguments didn’t bother him one bit—unlike you, who desperately wanted answers.

He shrugged.

“Coincidence. Or maybe I just like seeing you get worked up.” He clicked his tongue. “And the nickname? It’s just a fact. You’re really stressed all the time, S/n.”

You narrowed your eyes. You wanted to hate him completely, but something about his calm, teasing demeanor made your blood boil in a different way.

And the nickname? He wasn’t wrong.

So you turned on your heel, walking briskly toward your room.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to be around him.

That was it.

Avoid him. You told yourself.

[cuteandhughesy]

congrats on 1k!!! so deserved, your writing is amazing! can i pls request prompts 1 and 11 for barzy?? love you 🫶

prompt no. 1: "you're such a loser" + prompt no. 11: “let me distract you”

18+ under the cut

"wait so you're telling me that dumbledore only kept Harry alive so that voldemort would be the one to kill him." mat’s confused, squinting at the tv casting the only source of lighting in the otherwise dark living room.

you’re tucked into his side, so close that you might as well but sitting on his lap—but that just the way mat likes it.

his thick fingers trace circles on your hip bone over your leggings, a soothing and comforting tickle that could lull you to sleep if you weren’t so into the harry movie playing on the tv.

mat’s voice cuts through your intense focus, making you sigh. you’ve always been a huge fan of the harry potter movies—getting lost in the magic and nostalgia that they carry, and no matter how many times you watch them, the movies will always have you hooked. your boyfriend has never seen them, which was appalling, so every free night he has, you’re putting one on.

hence is constant questions—which yes, this is probably his 20th for this movie…and it’s not even over yet.

"yeah,” you say, “pretty much."

“damn,” mat huffs, pulling you deeper into his side, eyes flickering away from the screen, “and to think he was my favourite.”

you hum in acknowledgment, not giving him your attention as you watch snape’s memories flash on the tv. he pouts dramatically at your lack of attention, head falling to your shoulder like he’s been kicked.

sure, mat doesn’t hate the movies—they’ve been entertaining at the most. but they’re not his favourite, and he’s kinda glad you guys are on the last one. mat is bored and wants your attention like the clingy man he claims he isn’t.

slowly he presses his lips to your pulse point, giving you a 5 second long open mouthed kiss and then moves farther up your neck—just in an inch—to repeat the process.

your eyes roll gently. you know exactly what he’s up to. “mathew,” you warn, hand gripping his under your shirt as it begins slowly riding up—resting just under your boob.

mat smiles against your skin, “full name? sheesh.”

“eyes on the screen.”

he groans, the hand that’s not under your shirt enclosing over your knee cap before slowly sliding up your thigh. “I wanna have my eyes on something else,” mat hums, pressing a delicate kiss to your jaw.

you squirm, a half smile on your face. “if you want to be a potterhead, you have to watch this and pay attention—this is about to be a pivotal moment.”

mat pulls back, brows pulled in confusion. “a potterhead? is that like a drug term?”

“no,” you laugh, smacking his peck lightheartedly. “it’s a hard core harry potter fan,” you correct, eyes finally tilting up and meeting his.

“are you a potterhead?” mat asks knowingly, lips quirked up in a half smirk that tells you he already knows your answer.

you nod, looking back at the tv, “yes.”

“you’re such a loser babe,” he breathes a laugh, kissing your cheek affectionately.

but your mouth falls, eyes comically wide as you look back at your boyfriend, “hey!”

mat’s grin doesn’t falter, and he wraps his forearm around your middle, not giving you the chance to pull away from him. “it’s a compliment, my little nerd,” he hums softly, hand sliding under your thigh and lifting your leg— manoeuvring until you’re dropped over his own leg, spreading your thighs.

you swallow as mat leans back down, attaching his lips to your neck—sucking, kissing and nibbling your sensitive skin. instinctively you head falls back against his shoulder, breath quickening as your arousal spikes. “mhmm,” you pause, “not sure about that.” 

“c’mon,” he teases in between licks, “you’re okay.”

“you’re distracting me,” you sigh after a beat, mat’s fingers inching closer to the waist band of your leggings—his other brushing over your bare nipple under your top.

his lips brush your jawline again, “good.”

“mat.”

“let me distract you,” mat mumbles, hand slipping under your waist band, brushing and teasing just below your belly button—fiddling with the lace of your panties. “you’ve seen this movie,” he states the obvious, breath warm as it fans across your spit slicked skin—giving you goosebumps.

“yeah but you haven’t,” you whine.

“if you let me make you cum i’ll watch the movie until I have it memorized.” his words make you whine, hips jerking as your hips jerk instinctively, seeking mat’s fingers.

it’s all mat needs to hear before his fingers dip under your panties. his calloused pads tease your puffy clit, switching between slow circles around the bundle and firm figure eights—each one making your breath hitch desperately.

he doesn’t stop kissing your face, heavy breath fanning across you’re already warm face as mat dips down to your entrance, fingers slipping through your arousal. “you’re wet.” he grins cockily, scooping the lubricant with his ring and middle finger, dragging it back up to your clit.

“shut up,” you stutter, eyes fluttering pathetically as mat spreads your arousal over your clit. you’re entire pussy has become a slip and slide for your boyfriends fingers.

he laughs against your ear, “that’s no way to ask me to touch you baby.” he says, sucking on the lobe of your ear as his fingers slide back down towards your fluttering hole.

your hips lift in search of further stimulation, the action sending mat’s palm to roughly bump your clit. “mat please,” you hiccup.

“better.”

he inserts his two thick fingers into your entrance, slowly stretching your walls as he slides in—further and deeper until his knuckles are the only thing visible. mat’s hand is nothing but a bulge under your leggings. he’s so close and warm, making everything feel dirty and sexy.

mat begins thrusting shallowly, but still providing enough stimulation to have you moaning. his fingers work you expertly, while the palm of his hand rubs your bundle of nerves.

“that feel good baby?” he breathes, mouth brushing your jaw as he nips the skin affectionately. your eyes are trained against the movements of his hands under your clothes, the rhythmic thrusts that have you increasingly soaking his fingers more and more.

the movie is long forgotten as you moan, basking in the euphoric feeling of mat’s fingers reaching so deep inside you—pressing against that spongy spot that makes you feel like you’re dying.

“what was that?” mat taunts, picking up the speed of his thrusts into your pathetically weeping entrance. he can feel a ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his fingers, a mixture of your cream and arousal dripping down his palm and seeping onto your thong and leggings.

you sob, hand darting down to touch his over your pants. “yes.”

mat hums happily, “good girl.” he switches his pace, fingers held in tightly with your walls, palm flat against your clit as he begins rubbing your pussy—fast and firmly. your jaw drops at the new realm of pleasure, back arching off his chest as he provides the perfect amount of stimulation.

“fuck,” he curses lowly, entranced on the way your face pulls in pleasure, “you’re soaking my fingers baby. you like making a mess on my hand?”

you nod, too busy trying to chase your lapping breath to form a coherent sentence.

mat grins, “good, ‘cause i’m not stopping until you’re leggings are completely soaked.”

—

(unedited)

[maplegracefour]

Two Idiots and a Wedding | Part One

Summary: When the invitation for your cousin’s wedding arrives, and you see that bold ‘+1’ you sigh, remembering the white lie you had told her about seeing someone. You realise that you’re not getting out of it and that you’re going to have to figure something out…

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~845 Words

Author's Note: Here it is! There's more to come and I know it's short, I've just been super busy with work and some family things. But rest assured more is on the way!!

“No, absolutely fucking not.” He says, staring you down as though you had grown a second head.

You sigh. “Please. I’m begging you, Ted already said no!” You look over at him, his brow is furrowed and he’s leaning forward, hands clasped together as he stares right back at him.

He raises an eyebrow at that though. “You asked Ted first?”

Head cocked to the side, you give him a confused expression in response.

A moment of silence weighs heavily between you. You aren’t quite sure if he’s offended that you asked Ted before him. Your eyes plead with him silently, fingers crossed on top of your lap.

“I’ll pay for everything?” You offer. A desperate last offer. “Flights, accommodation, drinks, food. Literally everything.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into the couch, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Why did you tell them you had a boyfriend when you didn’t?” He asks you at the airport and you have to try and not let your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I just didn’t know what to say when they asked me about a plus one. I panicked.” You explain.

“Right.” He says, not fully convinced. “So, because you were put on the spot, you lied?”

When he glances over at you, you’re looking extremely unimpressed. “I never claimed it was a good idea.”

He chuckles, slipping his headphones back on and shaking his head.

On the flight, you give him a full rundown on the family, and the friends. Essentially anyone who he should already know. You work on a game plan. The closer you get to your destination, the more nervous you become.

“Anything off limits?” You ask. “Any boundaries?”

“Boundaries?” He raises an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, like no kissing, no hand-holding. Any names or anything like that?” You explain yourself.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.“ He shrugs. “Maybe kissing would make things a little weird.” He says. 

You nod, understanding fully. “Kissing is off the table.”

The flight is smooth, thank goodness. And you land safely in the airport. As you make your way to the car hire centre, you notice Schlatt making an extra effort to walk closer to you than usual, your arms brushing often, occasionally even feeling his knuckles gently tap yours as you walk side by side. You choose not to think anything of it.

Once in the car, you make your way to the hotel. Schlatt drives, letting you sit in your nerves in the passenger seat, unsure if it’s making it easier or worse.

Your knee bounces involuntarily, eyes trailing across the constantly moving landscape in an attempt to distract yourself. For a while, you don’t notice Schlatt’s hand resting on your knee, the bouncing immediately coming to a halt.

You turn to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. His other hand is draped lazily on the wheel as he glances back at you for a moment. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous, they’re your family.” He says after a few moments of heavy silence.

“My family that I’m about to lie to constantly for 3 days straight. And I’m a terrible liar.” You note.

“Eh,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “People have lied about worse. And it’s okay, I’m a pretty good liar, so we balance each other out.” He gives your knee a squeeze and you pretend not to notice.

Pulling up to the hotel, you notice how grand it is. You’re glad, because it had cost a lot of fucking money.

You both walk into the hotel lobby, Schlatt takes all the bags because ‘that’s the boyfriend’s job’. You roll your eyes in response.

“I’m so sorry, there has been a mix-up with our bookings.” The receptionist says when you reach the desk to book in. Frowning, Schlatt looks at you.

“So, what does that mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“The system double booked all of our twin rooms, we have executive rooms available which we can offer to you for no extra price.” She offers, sheepishly smiling up at you. She looks like she’s had a long day, you can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face. “An executive room will be fine.” You nod, giving her a sympathetic smile.

You check into your new room, taking the keys and silently, Schlatt and yourself make your way up. You hadn’t heard of an executive room but it sounds fancy.

But as you step into the room, you realise why Schlatt has been so quiet. The room, despite being absolutely gorgeous, only has one bed.

He turns to you, putting the bags down as the door clicks closed. “So, how do you want to do this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

PART TWO HERE

[gakukitty]

ꕤ . face sitting

featuring . . . gaku + cutie (afab!reader)

“baby, i can handle it,” gaku assures, his lips lightly brushing against your own. his warm hands reach down, feeling your sides through the fabric of your shirt. “it’ll be alright. i’ll let you know if i can’t breathe, yeah?”

he’s been pestering you about having you sit on his face for the past ten minutes now— it’s honestly starting to get a little concerning. what man wants someone to sit on him so badly? well, a man like gaku does, clearly; he wants nothing more than to have you riggghhttt on top of him, suffocating him until he’s practically blue ! i mean, how could he not?

“gaku, i don’t know..” you trail off, your pretty lips curving into a hesitant frown. you know that you were the one to give gaku the idea, shyly offering it up to him earlier today, but you didn’t think he’d be this enthusiastic about it !! however, you really can’t deny him when he’s like this..

so, that’s how you find yourself perched on top of your boyfriend’s face, his warm hands kneading the flesh of your ass as he damn near assaults your pussy with his tongue !! the wet muscle gently sliding past your folds, moans escaping his lips as he coaxes your body even further on top of him. he relishes in the way your hands clutch at his hair, each tug at the locks getting rougher and rougher as the minutes pass. he fucking loves it; in fact, he wants you to tighten your grasp on his hair! he thinks— no, he knows that he’d gladly go bald if it means that he gets to keep your cute fingers threading through his hair for the rest of his life.

your hips buck slightly against his mouth, which only causes a mewl to escape the man’s lips as he leans further into you. gakus nose lightly bumps against your clit, and he has to adjust his hold on you to make sure you sit still and stop the squirming— but you can’t help it, he just feels that good !!

soon enough, he’s drawn out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you— gaku’s relentless :(

“jus’ a little more, babe,” he insists, pressing a kiss to your clit. “nuh-uuh, don’t move..”

you have a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a long one.

note - this was so lazy , but i felt like writing this (even tho it’s kinda my first time writing face sitting ,,) so here we go !! im on chap 1 of gakus series so i think i’ll go continue that . . . or maybe continue with my aki or natsuki series !!!!

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or use it to train ai ♡

[lemonlover1110]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

Suguru Getou & Kento Nanami

[Chapter 1] A Very Special Birthday

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Suguru Getou x f!Reader x Kento Nanami

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Mommy.” There’s someone poking your face over and over again, very early in the morning. It’s a lot of work for you to get your eyes open, but you eventually get them open to find your now three-year-old with a bright smile on her face. Her energy is infectious which causes you to smile as well. You fill up her face with kisses until she stops you, claiming, “Brush your teeth.”

“You could be nicer, Sayuri.” You respond with a chuckle. You stand up from the bed and walk to the bathroom to start your morning. You rush this morning since you want to rush to be by your baby’s side. But when you exit the bathroom, she isn’t in your room. You furrow your brows, but your eyes land on the half open door. You catch the smell of the delicious food, and you immediately know who else is joining you in the apartment.

You walk out of your room to find your daughter pulling the hem of her father’s pants. His back is to you since he’s facing the stove. He doesn’t wear anything special today even though it’s a very special day; just black jeans, and a long black sleeve shirt that’s rolled up to show off his sleeves of tattoos– And because it’s hot since he’s near a stove. You hear Suguru tell her, “Why don’t you wait by the table, princess? I’m scared you’ll get burned if you’re around here.”

“I wanna help.” She says but he’s hearing none of it. And to help out Suguru, you walk over to them and pick her up from the floor. You kiss her face over and over again.

“There’s my sweet birthday girl. How are you, honey?” You ask, and there’s a bright smile on her face. She forgets about the fact that she wants to help out her father, and remembers the fact that it’s her very special day; she’ll forget about it in a couple of minutes, but she gets so very excited when she remembers. “How does it feel to be three?”

“Good.” She answers. Suguru finally gets her breakfast off the stove and cuts it into small pieces for his precious daughter. He opens the fridge and he asks,

“You want whipped cream on your pancakes?” And she almost bursts your eardrums as she yells back a very enthusiastic yes. It’s a very special occasion, of course Suguru is going to spoil his little princess. When the sweet breakfast is ready, he sets it down on the table for her, and you put her down so she can take a seat.

You glance at it, pancakes smothered in syrup with some strawberries and blueberries on top– And of course, the whipped cream the Suguru added. You two watch as she begins to eat, and when she takes her first bite, Suguru says, “I made some pancakes for you too.”

“You better, or else I would’ve kicked you out.” You joke, although he takes the threat seriously. He did use your stove and your ingredients to make the breakfast, the very least he could do is make some for you. You prepare your plate, watching how Suguru takes a seat next to his daughter. You speak up, “Didn’t you make anything for yourself?”

“I had some breakfast with Kumi.” He answers, and your brows raise. You don’t give it much thought though, that’s his girlfriend. You just were expecting him to have breakfast with his daughter, that’s all. At the very least, he sits next to her after making her a delicious plate of food. He focuses his attention on his daughter, laughing as she makes a mess. “Is that good, princess? You seem to enjoy it.”

“Yes.” She answers with her mouth still full of food, which is something that Suguru would usually reprimand her for but he lets it slide this morning. You walk over to the table and take the other seat beside her, quietly beginning to eat. 

Suguru watches his greatest gift, a subtle smile on his lips. Her birth wasn’t all that ideal since your pregnancy wasn’t planned at all but she became his whole world when he first listened to her heartbeat. You were friends with Suguru, and after he broke up with his girlfriend, he needed a rebound. You were also having some romantic problems, and it ended up in you seeking comfort in each other. Your relationship (if it can even be called that) ended a couple months after, when he got back with his girlfriend, Kumi. Your friendship practically ended because there was no way you could go back to normal after hooking up, in the end, you had no option but to go back to being friends since you were pregnant.

Your pregnancy was rather… A weird one. When you found out, your first thought was to get an abortion since you weren’t with Suguru, but when you told him the news, the man almost begged you to keep the baby. After much pondering, you decided to keep your daughter and to raise her alongside Suguru, even if you weren’t together. He moved in shortly after, and lived with you for the first two years of her life, moving out recently to be with his on-and-off girlfriend.

Luckily, you have no complaints about them. Kumi is a wonderful figure for your daughter, and while you aren’t friends, you are civil with each other. She has a good reason to not like you, plus, she’s not the easiest woman to get along with.

“What do you want to do today, Sayuri?” You ask. You’ll be having a small birthday party later in the night, but you don’t have anything planned out for the day. She puts her tiny index finger on her chin, tilting her head slightly to the side. She thinks about what she wants to do, she just has so many options.

“I have a very busy day, so I won’t be able to join you.” Suguru answers, and you’re surprised that he booked clients today of all days. The past two birthdays the man refuses to do any tattoos because he wants to spend all day with his daughter. It seems that his priorities slowly shift… He’s been working a lot lately though, and you might have an idea why.

“It’s alright, Kento is joining us.” You respond, and you watch him roll his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but you know it does. You don’t understand why he’s so hostile with Kento, the pair used to get along well before Sayuri was born, but they seem to butt heads since her birth.

“Doesn’t he have to work?” He asks, and you shake your head in response.

“He asked for the day off.” You tell him, and he scoffs. You can’t help but ask, “Why are you so… Annoyed by it?”

“Sayuri, when you’re done, can you go to your room to change out of your pajamas?” He looks at his daughter, and her brows furrow.

“I haven’t told mommy yet.” She answers, and Suguru sweetly smiles at her.

“You will in a minute, I have to talk to her about something. It’s a surprise.” He lies to lure her away, but she doesn’t easily fall for it. Her ears perk up at the mention of a surprise, which clearly wasn’t Suguru’s best option of words.

“I wanna know.” She says, and Suguru shakes his head. She gives him doe eyes, hoping that’ll help persuade her father since it’s worked in the past. It doesn’t though. 

“It’s a surprise. If you know then I won’t be able to give it to you.” Suguru responds, and she has no option but to stand up from her chair and walk to her room. When she tries to slam the door of her room, Suguru speaks up, “Why does he act like he’s her father? Are you two dating or what?”

“If we were dating, it’d be none of your business. We’re just friends anyway, he just wants to be there for her.” You tell him, and of course he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t like that, it’s clear that Kento is trying to be a parental role and Suguru doesn’t like that. Sayuri has one father, that’s all she needs. “She adores Kento anyway.”

“Isn’t he coming to the birthday party? Isn’t that enough?” Suguru replies. You click your tongue, annoyed by his response.

“He took the day off to come with us, the very least I can do is allow him.” You answer, and he stands up from the chair to clean up. You’re not telling Kento to stay home because of the simple fact that Suguru doesn’t like the man– He chose to work today, that’s his own fault.

“I’m Sayuri’s father.” He says, and you chuckle. 

“I didn’t say otherwise, Kento is not even my boyfriend.” You stand up as well, grabbing your plate and taking it to the sink as Suguru begins to do the dishes.

“He likes you.” Suguru states, and you let out a sigh. Suguru always had the bad habit of accusing every man that looks your way of liking you. You had serious problems with his jealousy when you were seeing each other.

“I wish. He’d be the perfect step father for Sayuri.” You comment, and he clenches his jaw. He’s about to say something about it, but Sayuri calls your name and you rush to her aid.

“Need help.” She says, and you rush to her side to help her change into the outfit that she picked out. You help her put on the yellow dress and the black leggings, before going to the bathroom to grab her hair products to style her hair. You sit on her bed, and she kneels in front of you so you can brush her hair.

“Did you pick, baby? What do you want to do?” You ask her, hoping it’ll take her mind off the fact that you’re doing her hair. Each of your movements always results in a whine from her, even though you’ve barely touched her hair. 

“Playground? Please?” She responds, and you hum in response. You knew she’d land on something similar. You feel Suguru’s eyes on you, staring from the doorway, watching as you do his daughter’s hair. 

“What are you doing, Suguru? It’s weird for you to just stare.” You tell him, grabbing one of Sayuri’s bee hair clips and putting it in the front of her hair.

“Just waiting for you to finish, I have to get going soon.” Suguru says, and Sayuri rises from the floor, running to her father. He picks her up from the floor and kisses her cheek. He caresses her cheek, “Happy birthday, princess. I love you.”

“I love you.” She answers, and it makes the man smile from ear to ear.

“I’ll come back with your present, princess. You’re going to love it.” He kisses her cheek again before putting her down on the floor. He waves at you, and before he can go you speak up,

“Are you still showing up to help me set up?” He nods in response. You awkwardly smile at him before waving, and he waves again before walking away.

“Can we go?” Sayuri asks, and you shake your head.

“Girl, I’m still in my pajamas. Wait for me to get ready.” You chuckle, and she sticks out her bottom lip. You stand up and begin to walk out of the room, and she follows behind you. She never leaves you alone, and honestly, you’re glad she doesn’t.

“Mommy, hurry.”

You keep a close eye on Sayuri as she runs around. You often wonder how so much energy resides in such a small body. She’s sweating as she goes down the slide and quickly runs to go up again. She happily does it over and over again, and you almost laugh, knowing that after the second time you’d be too tired to go up the slide again.

So focused, you miss the man that approaches you, until he finally greets you. You put your hand over your heart, spooked by him. He notices and apologizes, and you stand up from the bench. You playfully hit his arm before giving him a side hug.

“How are you, Kento? I didn’t expect you to come so fast.” You take a seat again, and he takes a seat next to you. He searches the playground, and he spots Sayuri quickly. She’s wearing something yellow, it seems to be her favorite color lately.

“I have nothing to do this morning, so of course I came to see my two favorite girls.” He says, and you immediately think of Suguru. He’s plaguing your mind with stupid ideas. Kento simply isn’t very popular with women, so of course you and your daughter are his favorite girls. “How has she been doing today? Does she realize it’s her birthday?”

“She does, had to tell her like three times but now she knows. She’s using it to her advantage too.” You share, and it makes a chuckle escape his lips. He expected nothing less from her, in fact, he’s proud. “She’s expecting a big gift from you.”

“And she will get one. I’ll give it to her at her birthday party.” He assures you. You love the fact that he spoils her, he’s the absolute sweetest with her. Suguru gets jealous over the fact that Kento is trying to become a father figure to your daughter, but you think it’s sweet. Plus, Kento is more of an uncle than a wannabe father. “Did you already eat breakfast?”

“Suguru came over and made us something.” You answer, and his brows raise, surprised. You don’t understand his reaction though, Suguru always shows up for his daughter. Kento should know better than anyone. Then you hear his stomach growl and you chuckle, reaching into your bag to pull out a snack for him, “I expected you of all people to have eaten something.”

“I’ll just get something to eat after this.” He doesn’t take the snack from your hands, assuming that it’s for Sayuri. He doesn’t want to take something that’s supposed to be for your daughter. You insist that he takes the snack, forcing his palm open and putting the bag in his grasp.

“We’re going out to lunch after this, but that’ll take a while. I have other food packed for Sayuri.” You insist, and Kento opens the small bag of chips. You laugh, looking at the other stuff that you have packed. “She’ll be eating baby carrots.”

“Baby carrots? She’s going to hate me.” He responds, almost spitting out the chips in his mouth because of his sudden regret– He then realizes just how fucking gross that is so he continues chewing slowly. 

“She likes baby carrots, you’ll be fine. Just hide the bag– She’s coming over now.” You warn him, and he hides the bag behind him. Sayuri’s eyes land on him, and she runs over to him with open arms, causing the man to stand up from his seat and crouch down. He welcomes her warm hug, a smile on his lips.

“I missed you, Nanamin.” It makes Kento hug her tighter, but his grip loosens since he gets scared that he’s hurting her in any way. He comes around a lot, but lately he’s gotten too busy. You’re the one that sees him, Sayuri spends the night with her father and you go out with Kento. But their usual princess movie marathons haven’t been happening, and she can’t remember the last time she played dolls with the man that’s in front of her. He kisses her temple before saying,

“I missed you too, Sayuri. Happy birthday.” He responds, and she thanks him. She walks over to you, and Kento retakes his seat. 

“Want my snack.” She tells you, and you reach into your bag to pull out the baby carrots.

“What do you say?” You ask her, and she shrugs.

“I’m hungry.” She answers, and you can only blame Suguru for it. You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Please, you say please.” You correct her. You give her the baby carrots, and she quietly begins to munch on them. It makes Kento feel less bad about the fact that he’s eating her bag of chips. He quietly brings it out of hiding, and her eyes light up when she notices it. She extends her small palm out and gives him puppy eyes.

“Can I have some, please?” She puts on her sweetest voice, and she magically remembers the word that seems to slip her mind. Kento isn’t going to refuse. He forgets he’s hungry and how his stomach feels uncomfortable, and he gives her the whole bag of chips. She squeals happily, thinking she has the best uncle in the world, little does she know that the chips are originally hers and he stole them. 

“What do you want for lunch?” Kento asks her while she stuffs her mouth. She ends up shrugging, not having anything in mind since the only thing she wants to eat is the chips that she holds in her hand. Your hand goes to her back and rests on it while you look down at her.

“Do you want a burger, baby? You were begging for one last night.” You suggest, and her eyes light up as she looks up at you. She nods her head in response, getting excited at the thought of eating a cheeseburger with fries. “Then we’ll get one.”

“I was just thinking of a burger too. Great minds think alike.” Kento comments, and she hums in response. She finishes her bag of chips and runs back to the playground. Leaving you alone, you talk with Kento about your lives, mostly joking around with each other.

You dress Sayuri in her special outfit, one that she picked out for this very important occasion. She wanted to look like a certain princess that has a yellow dress, a princess that’s become her favorite for the simple fact that the outfit she wears is her favorite color. You have to prepare the place for her birthday party, and while you were expecting Suguru to show up and help you out, he leaves you stranded. Luckily, you can call Kento for backup and he comes running to aid you; with his help, you manage to get the house and everything ready.

“Are you okay?” Kento asks, when he catches you washing some dishes. He cleaned everything up, so he wonders why you’re cleaning everything again. And why you’re doing it so harshly. Waiting for an answer is useless. He grows impatient. “Does this have to do with Suguru?”

“He told me he was going to come here to help. His family, my family, our friends, and some of Sayuri’s daycare friends. And look at him, he’s not here. He’s not answering my calls either.” You say. “He’s a son of a– You know what? Go check on Sayuri. I have to finish this.”

“You sure? I can finish up here and you can get ready…” Kento offers, but you shake your head in response. You’re far from ready, but in order to relax yourself you need to clean up. It’s odd, but it’s the way you relax. “I’ll go check on her then.”

When you finish rewashing the dishes, you look for another chore to redo. But you look at the time, and realize that you do have to start getting ready. You take a moment to check up on Kento and Sayuri, finding them playing with her dolls before you walk to your room. You leave the door open and change your outfit into something that isn’t your rags, and you put on some light makeup. You don’t put in a lot of effort into it but you manage to look cute. Presentable for your guests.

“You look beautiful.” Kento says when he sees you again. The corner of your lips turn upward, and you mutter a thank you. Your daughter tries to force Kento to pay attention to the rag doll that’s in his hands, and she does so best by hitting him with the plush that’s in her hand. You give her a mom look which is enough to scare her; you’re grateful for it because it’s her birthday and you have no intention of raising your voice at her. 

“Sorry, Nanamin.” She sticks out her bottom lip, something that always works when she needs to be forgiven. He wraps his arms around her, assuring her that it’s okay. She pulls away and asks you, “When is daddy coming?”

“I don’t know, honey. He should get here soon.” You answer. You wish you could reach the man that’s ignoring your calls. He’ll probably show up around the time guests do so you won’t be able to berate him. Knowing him, he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. You think about calling him again, even though you have a feeling your call will go unanswered for the umpteenth time. You then tell her, “Clean up your toys. People will get here soon.”

“Okay.” She answers, and she takes the rag doll from Kento and begins to put them in her toy box. She leaves her favorite doll on her bed, and then walks to you. You grab her hand and take her to the table that you’ve decorated with her favorite princess. You pick her up and sit her down in the middle of the table.

“Let’s take some photos, baby.” You tell her, and you take out your phone to begin taking pictures of her. She smiles showing her teeth, clearly forcing herself to smile for the camera. It makes you laugh. You call Kento and he’s by your side within seconds. He knows what to do immediately, taking the phone from your hand as you walk over and pose by your baby’s side. Kento comments how good you both look and tells you to say “cheese” before snapping a couple of pictures.

“Your turn, Kento. Stand right next to her.” You take the phone from his hand and he poses next to her. The first picture is awkward, but then Sayuri stretches her arms up, wanting to be picked up. So he does it. The second picture is much cuter, and you swear you’ll print it out and frame it. Sayuri and her uncle Nanamin. It makes you say, “Let me take another picture. You two are so cute.”

You’re so caught up in what you’re doing that you don’t hear the front door open, and when you realize, it’s because Suguru’s voice enrages you, “Aw are taking pictures without me?”

“Let me take another one.” You completely ignore Suguru, deciding that yelling (your way of voicing your feelings at the moment) isn’t the best thing to do right now. You have your daughter that’s right in front of you. Suguru doesn’t like being ignored, if you don’t acknowledge him, neither will Kento. Sayuri only speaks up when Kento puts her on the ground, and that’s when she runs to her father, excited to finally see him again.

“There’s my princess. How are you doing, baby? I hope your day has been amazing.” Suguru kisses her cheeks when he picks her up from the ground. You cross your arms as you watch them, your eyes falling on Kumi who is staring back at you. Disdain in her eyes which makes you roll your eyes. You usually try to disguise your annoyance, but today you’re fed up with her and her boyfriend. You don’t have the energy to be nice to them.

“Kento, come with me to the kitchen, please.” You look at Kento, and he nods in response. He follows after you. He helps you out with what you need to finish up, doing so quietly since he senses you’re annoyed. He watches as you get more irritated as you hear Suguru and Kumi talking to your daughter.

“Surprised you didn’t yell at him.” Kento lowers his voice to talk to you, not wanting anyone to hear. You raise your brows, a sigh leaving your lips.

“Not while Sayuri is there.” You answer. You don’t want to cause a scene yet. The doorbell rings, and you have to take a deep breath. You need a minute to calm down. The man that’s next to you knows you like the back of his hand. He ends up saying,

“I’ll open the door.”

Interacting with everyone at first is hard, but you loosen up and stop paying attention to Suguru around an hour in. You’re celebrating your baby’s third year of life, you shouldn’t let Suguru ruin your night. You manage to ignore him at the beginning of the night, talking to friends and family, as well as paying attention to your daughter. 

There comes a moment that you do have to interact with him, and it’s when you have to sing happy birthday to your daughter. Even then, you don’t pay much attention to him. Kento turns off the lights and you light up three small candles before everyone begins to sing to your daughter. 

Her eyes glance at the tiny fires in front of her, and she’s too engrossed by it to pay attention to the people that sing to her. Until she hears her name, and she looks up at her father and then at you. You two chuckle, exchanging a look with each other before focusing back on her. When the song comes to an end, Suguru has to remind her, “Blow out the candles, princess.”

When she finally puts her lips together and blows out the candles, and the moment the candles are put out, Kumi steps out of the place which causes Suguru to run after her. Your annoyance is back and worse than before. You usually take pictures with her after the candle is blown out– Either during her birthday, Suguru’s, or yours, it’s your tradition. But he steps out for some reason.

“Where’s Suguru? I want to take some pictures.” Suguru’s mother asks when the lights are turned back on. Sayuri also looks around for her father, but she doesn’t spot him. Luckily, she spots Kento and she extends her hand and reaches out for Kento.

“Nanamin.” She calls out for him, and he runs to be by her side. That’s when you take your customary pictures, even if they aren’t with Suguru. Kento takes his place, and helps Sayuri cut the first slice of the cake. They both hold a knife and Kento sticks it into a corner of the cake. They serve the first slice, and they put it on a paper plate. Kento then gives it to her.

“You can eat it, honey. I’ll finish up here.” Kento tells her, and she gets off the chair that she stands on, walking to the couch to eat her slice of cake. Kento begins to serve everyone a slice, and you’re thankful that he’s by your side because you’re so close to losing it.

“Thank you.” You mutter to Kento, helping him serve the cake. You finish up, making sure there isn’t a single slice left for Suguru or Kumi, and you take a seat. 

Ten minutes later, they’re back inside, and Kumi looks annoyed. Suguru sighs and looks around before he says, “I hope there’s some cake left.”

“There isn’t.” You answer. You make sure to hum the next time you take another bite, wanting to make note of how good the cake is, and how he won’t be having any. Until your daughter gives her plate to her father, putting her hand over her tummy and announcing,

“I’m full.” He happily takes the plate from her. He offers some to his girlfriend, but she shakes her head in response. Her arms are crossed and she tries to make herself go unnoticed. Suguru tries to sit down on the empty spot next to you, which causes you to stand up and practically run elsewhere. 

Your anger doesn’t go unnoticed.

Shortly after, people begin to leave one by one. Sayuri wants to open her gifts, but you hold off till almost everyone is gone because you’re scared that she’ll react badly if she opens a gift she doesn’t like. Suguru’s parents are the last to leave, and you’re left with Kento, Suguru, Kumi, and your daughter, of course.

You’re about to pick a random gift to give to her, but Suguru says, “Open mine first!”

He grabs the gift that he wrapped for his baby girl, and he gives it to her. She unwraps it, and her tiny brows furrow. It’s a cute pink stuffed animal… She glares at her father and then says, “I don’t like it.”

“Huh? Kumi told me that it’s what kids want these days. Her niece has one and she loves it.” Suguru says, but that doesn’t change his daughter’s mind. She tosses it to the side, and while you’d lecture her about being grateful for her gift, you’re mad at Suguru. He deserves it for the awful gift.

“Nanamin.” She looks at Kento, and he raises his brows before realizing what she wants. He looks for his gift. He gives it to her, and her eyes light up when she unwraps it and sees a doll that she keeps seeing on TV. 

“What do you say, Sayuri?” You say, and she wraps her arms around Kento. He wastes no time in hugging her back.

“Thank you.” She responds, and Kento smiles.

“I’m glad you like it, Sayuri.” Kento replies. You watch Suguru’s face, full of contempt which almost makes you smirk. Maybe some other time you’d worry about his thoughts, how he probably thinks that Kento is trying to take his place. But you hope that’s what he’s thinking now, and hope that he’s seething at the fact that your daughter prefers Kento’s gift over his dumb one.

You continue passing her gifts but none surpass Kento’s. She goes to her room to play with her new toys, while Suguru, Kento, and you clean up the place. Kento and Suguru find themselves alone in the kitchen, and Kento tries his best to ignore the man’s presence. But Suguru clears his throat to get Kento’s attention.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Suguru comments, making Kento raise his brows in utter confusion. Kento looks around, wondering if Suguru is talking to him.

“And what is that?” Kento asks, putting the plate that he scrubs down in the sink, washing the soap off his hands. He crosses his arms, turning his attention to Suguru. He repeats the question, “What am I trying to do, Suguru?”

“You’re trying to play dad and I don’t like that. She’s my daughter.” Suguru says, making a scoff come from Kento’s lips. Kento isn’t exactly a confrontational man, he usually tends to agree with people that are in the wrong simply to move on past a problem; he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it all. But he can’t keep quiet for some reason.

“Trying to play dad? By what exactly? By being decent to my best friend and her daughter? By getting her daughter a gift she actually wanted?” He questions, and the attitude that comes from Kento’s voice makes his blood boil. How dare Kento talk to him like that? Who does he think he is? “Last time I checked, I’m just being a good friend, and a great uncle to Sayuri. I’m sorry that I act as a better father figure than you.”

“Excuse me?” There’s full offense in Suguru’s voice. Kento isn’t lying– At least not in his eyes. Sure, Suguru has been a great father but lately he’s been putting other matters before his daughter. Luckily for Sayuri, Kento can step in for her father. 

“You heard me. Guess who spent most of the day with her? I did.” Kento responds. “I took her to lunch, and I was the one who came here to help set up the party. I’m starting to act more like her father than you.”

“I know you like her mother, but don’t you dare think that you’ll ever be anything like Sayuri’s dad. This is your first and only warning, Nanami.” Suguru sounds threatening, but Kento doesn’t take him seriously; at the very least, he doesn’t care. He won’t push it any further though, so Kento bites his tongue.

“Everything okay here?” You ask as you step into the kitchen. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but you knew they were talking even though the men never talk. Suguru is the one that speaks up,

“Why are you mad?” 

“Why do you think, Suguru?” You put your hand on your hip. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

He’s about to justify his actions– Not showing up to help set up, ignoring your calls, walking out right after singing happy birthday. He’s a guilty man, but he has to justify himself. And you know he does, and you stop him right on his tracks.

“Don’t. Not in the mood. Help Sayuri clean up her new toys and say goodnight. I can’t stand to look at you any longer.” You refrain from talking about his girlfriend because he’ll get upset, but you can’t stand having her in your house for another minute.

“Yes, ma’am.” Suguru answers, choosing his words carefully because he doesn’t want you to be mad at him. Suguru walks past you and out of the kitchen, and when he’s out of sight you walk to Kento. You kiss his cheek.

“Thank you for tonight, Kento. You’re simply the best.” He turns back to washing dishes because his face warms up, and he doesn’t want you to notice how his cheeks turn pink.

“You don’t have to thank me. I loved helping out.” And you stand still for a moment, watching how he washes your dirty dishes. You couldn’t have asked for a better friend. 

[sansaorgana]

— CHRYSALIS (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Mairon is scheming to take over the armies of Morgoth. With his old master's daughter by his side he considers his claims to be legitimised, although he has to admit that her mood swings scare him sometimes. Well, one thing is certain – his wife keeps him on his toes. And their enemies are many, even amongst their own Lieutenants.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It's been some time since part one but I needed a short break and I'm not going to lie but I have been distracted... Those of you who follow me, know already that I have a massive crush on Jack Lowden now... 🤣 It is honestly funny to me because I've known about this guy for years (he was even in one of my favourite TV shows ever aka War & Peace) but it was this one scene of the loser Sauron that pushed me into having a crush??? Seriously?! Anyway, yeah... I've been watching movies with him and at the moment I am in the middle of Slow Horses. Just saying because I have a feeling it is going to end up with a fanfic... 💀 Big shoutout and thanks to @olchr-1 because their comments under my fics about Mairon and Morgoth always inspire me! 💚

WARNINGS — toxic relationship (they're mutually toxic to each other), mentions of Morgoth's abuse towards Sauron, Reader is kinda unhinged (she is Morgoth's daughter, ok? what did you expect?), murder (as in – she murders [an Orc] AND she gets murdered), she's some sort of a ghost in the end (idk if it's a trigger but I'm writing it down in case it is...)

WORD COUNT — 6,140

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS (II)

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

Mairon felt a shiver travelling down his spine at those words. (Y/N) had a sweet smile on her face but it still felt somehow sinister and embarrassing after realising she could have felt all his scheming regarding her.

“Do not be scared!” She whined and giggled as she brushed his ginger hair to put it behind his pointy ear. “I like you the way you are.”

Mairon cracked a smile at her and put his hands on her waist to pull her closer and join their lips together. The kiss started softly but it quickly turned into a heated one. (Y/N) moaned into his mouth and he groaned, pushing aside all the things on the table behind her to pick her up and sit her up on top of it.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and he could hear her heartbeat fastening as his shaky hands travelled to her back where he started to tug onto the lacing of her gown.

But at that, (Y/N) flinched and Mairon broke the kiss, taking a step back and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She refused to meet his gaze and looked over his shoulder at the still unfinished item behind him.

“I think you still have work to finish, my husband,” she pointed out sweetly and how could he ever be angry at her when she addressed him so beautifully?

Mairon nodded at her and leaned in to steal one more kiss from her but this time it was only a peck on the lips.

He walked away from her to go back to reforging her father’s crown to fit him and she took off her leather apron and folded it neatly before putting it on the desk and leaving the forge without a word.

Mairon wondered quietly what was the reason for her sudden shyness when it came to being physical. How much had she witnessed about her parents’ relationship? And what had it been like?

Or perhaps (Y/N) was simply shy because she had been sheltered for her whole life.

Either way, she had agreed to share her life with him and that was enough for him. To have her close, to show her off as his – Melkor’s daughter, the heiress of darkness. She had chosen him – Mairon – to be her husband. There was no better legitimation for his coronation than this.

He finished his work and the sun was slowly setting in the sky although it was barely visible in their land of snow and cold either way. Mairon took off his apron and fixed his hair before taking the newly reforged crown and taking it to his chambers because he would never leave it unsupervised. Proud of his creation, he walked past (Y/N)’s chambers but he did not bother to check on her. She clearly needed her space now and he decided to give it to her.

After entering his chambers, though, Mairon froze at the sight of (Y/N) laying in his bed and smiling at him gently. She was wearing nothing but a beautiful nightgown made out of a sheer fabric that left very little to his imagination. Mairon swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight.

“I… I have finished,” he told her and placed the crown on top of a dresser, scared of her opinion as he usually was when it came to his craft.

“I can see. It is beautiful, you are very talented with your hands, my Sauron,” she whispered, surprisingly sweet, and Mairon smiled nervously at the praise before turning around to face her.

“Where did you get a nightgown like this?” He asked. After all, all her clothes had been gifts from him and he would never dare to give her such a thing before.

“So… You like it?” She giggled and Mairon’s heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how much he did. Or maybe she did – after all, she could get inside his head. “I know you do, my husband,” she sighed, “but I would like you to say it.”

“I… I do,” Mairon nodded and cleared his throat before sitting on the edge of his bed and carefully reaching his hand out to caress her cheek. “I like it. Very much,” he assured her. 

Oh, how the tables turned. Who was shy now?

When Mairon’s hand lowered and briefly touched (Y/N)’s nightgown, it suddenly disappeared completely, dissolved into air and there she was, naked for him. He looked into her eyes and she chuckled.

“So, it worked,” she whispered, proud of herself. “I learnt from you how to do it,” she confessed and sat up to cling to him and join their lips together in a kiss but this time it was him who was mostly sitting there, petrified to witness her being like that. “I’m sorry, am I doing something wrong?” (Y/N) furrowed her brow and moved away a little, shyly, visibly feeling embarrassed of herself.

And when she was like this, he felt way more confident. Mairon straightened his back and shook his head gently.

“No, my love, not at all. It’s just that I…” He took a deep breath in.

“That you’re a Maia, you were born to serve and not to experience such carnal desires,” she nodded and he closed his mouth. “And yet you do and you are confused but I know the answer.”

“You do?” Mairon inquired.

“I need you,” she breathed out and once more she moved closer to him to kiss the corner of his mouth as her hands caressed his neck with her fingertips. “And you love me. You serve me, Sauron. Therefore, when I need you, your flesh answers to my calling.”

And now it was him flinching at her words and she moved back once more, looking at him with confusion written all over her terrifyingly beautiful features.

“I’m sorry, I…” He fixed his hair with trembling hands as he looked away.

How could he tell her that when she was like this she reminded him of her father and it was not in the way he wanted to remember him? How could he tell her that it nearly scared him and it surely was not helping his desire? 

Melkor had reforged him the same way Mairon reforged his crown – his old self had been melted and twisted in the most wicked ways. But admitting it to her now would be humiliating.

When she was a shy, innocent maiden – he felt confident enough to give in to his desires and to devour her. But when she was showing confidence and was becoming needy herself – greedy for him and his service like his master once had been… He was simply shutting down.

“I would never hurt you, Sauron,” she whispered and he turned his head around to look at her, a little frustrated with the fact that she had been inside his head again – especially at a moment like that. “I would never hurt you first, that is,” she added. “And you have no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. I am your wife and your Queen,” she added.

“I want to be worthy of you but I do not think I ever will be…” He confessed, finally voicing out the fear he had been having for centuries now – from the moment he had seen her for the first time.

“Oh, but my sweet Sauron, do you not know…?” (Y/N) chuckled lovingly and moved closer to him once more but very slowly and carefully this time. She cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with her thumbs before leaning in to rub her nose with his. “I know you will never be and I still like you,” she smiled, probably thinking her words cheered him up but they only broke his heart.

Because what was her love then? Did she love him because he was a good pet? The most loyal servant? Was her love as wicked as her father’s?

“I am my mother’s daughter, too,” she reminded him and kissed his forehead. “I can be sweet and gentle with you, kiss every part of your flesh, every part my father hurt and twisted… Let me heal it,” she breathed out.

He would certainly let her try.

The fortress was the most quiet during the day because the Orcs mostly slept at that time. Mairon and (Y/N) laid in his bed for hours now, facing each other with their limbs tangled and noses brushing as they exchanged sweet kisses and her fingers caressed his hair.

“You are the most extraordinary creature I have ever laid my eyes on,” he breathed out.

“I know,” she smirked. “When will we leave here? I want to see the world,” her eyes sparkled.

“Do you really want to see it or perhaps you can’t wait for the world to fall on its knees at the sight of you?” Mairon wondered teasingly and she chuckled.

“I am aware the realms you will take me to are far from perfect but I will shape them to fit my will and vision,” she said. “And for that, they will build me altars.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you will certainly make sure they do,” she smirked sweetly but her eyes filled with mischief.

Mairon moved his head up slightly to kiss her on the mouth instead of making a promise with his words. Then, he laid down on the pillow and sighed at the sight of the reforged crown of Morgoth on top of his dresser.

“I will forge you a crown, too. I have an idea for its design already,” he promised. “And then, we will coronate ourselves and marshal our legions out of here.”

“I am shutting myself out of your mind then,” (Y/N) giggled. “I want the design to be a surprise,” she explained and kissed his cheek.

He couldn’t help the feeling that he indeed was her pet but perhaps she would be a much kinder owner than her father had been.

Tasarë woke up and leaned on the barren, dry tree as she sighed at the sight of the huge fortress in the horizon. They would arrive there in the afternoon on that day but she had not seen it last night due to the darkness. Now, in the hazy morning she was able to see what was awaiting her – the dreadful place and even more dreadful master within its walls. 

“Why me?” She asked Mairon while he was watching her with a mix of pity and relief that his task would be done soon.

“He saw you in my memories,” he confessed. She deserved to know the truth now, at the very end of their road together.

“You were that huge werewolf watching me in the forest,” Tasarë chuckled and shook her head. “I sensed your eyes on me.”

“And that was your demise. You know what they say – curiosity killed the cat,” Mairon crossed his arms and stood by her side, looking at the fortress ahead of them with pride.

“Why were you staring at me?” Tasarë inquired and Mairon shrugged his arms. He truly did not know.

“Something drew me in. Perhaps it was your fate,” he explained cruelly.

Cruelly, because what could this young and innocent maiden possibly have done to deserve such punishment?

“Please,” she took off her humble ring with a ruby stone on it, “take it,” she offered it to him as her eyes filled with tears.

“What is the meaning behind this gesture?” Mairon raised his eyebrows, a little mockingly staring at the ring in her trembling hand.

“I want you to keep it, a memory of me,” she explained. “A memory of who I am now, before your master bends me to his will,” she added and Mairon swallowed thickly at her words. “Please,” she begged and he finally took the ring from her hand and caressed it with his fingers.

“Why are you giving this to me? It was me who brought this down upon you and it was me delivering you to him,” Mairon asked, confused.

“Who am I supposed to give it to?” She asked and laughed through the tears as she looked around. No one else was there. Then, her face became serious again. “I can still feel the light of Valinor deep within you,” she whispered, her voice nearly inaudible and a shiver went down his spine at her words. “You are a Maia. An emissary of the Valar.”

“I serve only one of them,” he explained.

“Whatever. You just do what you were made for – you serve,” she nodded and turned her head around, leaving his head a mess.

Her words were an explanation why she couldn’t hate him completely. But they also were an insulting reminder that he was nothing compared to his master – he was replaceable and meaningless.

“We should go,” he muttered and hid the ring inside one of his pockets.

Mairon played with Tasarë’s ring between his fingers for one last time before breaking it apart in his forge to extract the red ruby stone and put it in (Y/N)’s crown. Made of her father’s iron and decorated with her mother’s stone, it was pretty humble and smaller than Mairon’s but he made sure it looked as intimidating as his own.

He did not mean to insult his wife with its design – quite the contrary. Her power was of the raw kind and she did not need any further decorations. Unlike him, humbly Maia who was constantly trying to hide the fact he still felt like a nobody. And he knew he would not have to explain it to her because she would know – she could read his mind, after all.

When the crown was forged, he took it carefully into his hands and carried it back to the chambers he was sharing now with her. (Y/N) was standing by the window and staring outside, sighing at the only sight she had ever known – endless snow and cold.

“When will we leave here, Sauron?” She asked with a whine.

“Soon, my darling. Very soon. Look what I have for you,” she smiled gently and could feel his cheeks burning.

This, so far, was the most significant gift he had ever given her. Perhaps even while proposing to her he had not been so nervous.

She turned around and he held his breath, waiting for her opinion and he knew that she was a cruel judge of his presents and craft.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she froze for a moment before approaching him to take a better look.

“It surely holds lots of power,” she nodded as her fingertips caressed the ruby of the crown. She smiled to herself, sensing her mother as she looked at her husband’s face, finding his eyes. She searched his mind to look for the explanation and then she nodded at him. “Did you love my mother?” She asked, suddenly.

Mairon’s heart skipped a beat.

“She was not mine to love,” he only answered.

“And I am?” (Y/N)’s eyes sparkled cruelly. She could have promised him hundreds of times she would never hurt him but sometimes her father’s nature would overtake her in those little moments, keeping him on his toes. He did not believe her promises at all.

In fact, he was quite scared of his own wife. But that was the price he had to pay for binding himself to such a powerful creature just to be able to bask in her light and to use her power to increase his own influence.

“I understand that you do not like the crown,” he admitted his defeat, looking down.

“On the contrary. It is splendid. Your finest work so far, husband,” she explained and took the item gently from his hands as he laid his eyes on her once more – his needy, yearning gaze, desperate for her praise. “It is simple and humble and yet so powerful, detailed and exquisite. It takes real talent of the greatest craftsman to forge such a beauty,” she admitted and put it onto her head before turning around to look at herself in the mirror. She was smiling and Mairon took a deep breath out of relief.

“I shall inform Adar to gather his armies for our coronation,” Mairon bowed his head slightly.

“Do we need an official coronation? In front of these… creatures?” (Y/N) winced. “We can do whatever we want, can we not?”

“Yes, of course we can,” Mairon cleared his throat. What he really meant was that she could do whatever she wanted. But even that was not entirely true because her lack of experience would soon overshadow her natural inheritance. “It will just send a message to all the right people and look more significant in their eyes if we go through with the whole ceremony.”

“We did not have any ceremony for our wedding,” she pointed out. “You truly show your priorities now, dear husband.”

“Marriage is a sacred and intimate union, I do not care for the audience when it comes to it. My love and devotion are only for you to see,” he answered.

“I understand,” she nodded and turned her head around to look directly into his eyes instead of reading his face from the mirror’s reflection. “But on the next day after our coronation we are leaving this place. And we are never coming back here.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Mairon nodded.

“In fact, I have a perfect usage for the North,” she shrugged her arms and looked back into the mirror to adjust the crown on her head and admire herself.

“And that is…?” Mairon furrowed his brows, a little scared of her answer.

“It will be a perfect prison for our enemies, it is going to be where we will send those who refuse to follow us,” she smiled.

“Why would we not simply kill them?” Mairon wondered out loud. That seemed like a waste of resources.

“And where is the fun in that?” She huffed, reminding him of her father once more.

And then, she reminded him of Melkor even more because she added the line his old master had often been repeating:

“You are too stiff. One of the best things about holding power is that we set the rules and we can make them as enjoyable as we wish.”

They completed each other. His robes were red and heavily decorated with golden elements and details such as chains and embroidered words in black speech. Her robes were the same, only golden with red thread and red decorations. Together they presented themselves very regal but it was very clear which one of them held more power even though she was standing behind him with her hands clasped behind her back.

(Y/N) could feel Adar’s eyes on her, eyeing her up and down constantly but as much as she tried to get inside his mind, he was pushing her away. It was nearly embarrassing that she could not get through but there were things her husband did not know of – for example that her power was not as vast as he thought. 

With proper training, perhaps one day she could live up to the image he had of her inside his mind but the real reason why she could search through him so easily was because she shared a special bond with Mairon. Her father had left the door open within his servant’s broken and twisted mind and it was easy for her to sneak in now, especially when he was not really fighting her abilities back – trained like a good dog by Melkor to obey such infiltrating requests and just allow it to happen.

Adar was shaped by Melkor, too, but he was different. He held no love in his heart for his former master. And… simply – nearly embarrassingly simply – (Y/N) did not love him.

But she loved Mairon and he loved her. That was making the whole deal of reading his mind much easier.

She could only guess what Adar was thinking but she could sense some odd mix of pity and resentment upon his face whenever he looked at her. 

When the right time came, he nodded at her and she took a step ahead to touch her husband’s arm and squeeze it. He turned his head to glance at her with a soft smile.

“We can start now,” she whispered and he nodded.

“Are you sure you do not want to do this with me?” He asked.

“No, better not… I am not yet prepared to give speeches,” she took a few steps back again to hide a little in the shadows, as if it was possible while wearing such robes.

Mairon licked his lips and took a deep breath in before addressing the filthy creatures staring at him with widened eyes, curiously waiting for his words.

He nearly felt embarrassed that they were the army he was offering to his wife. She deserved real, powerful battalions. And she would have them very soon once they’d conquer more lands.

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again,” he began, watching two Orcs carrying two crowns on black, velvet cushions. Once more, he winced a little at the realisation how humiliating it had to be for his wife to have her crown being carried to her by such a filthy creature. “Morgoth is gone,” he continued, “leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and fidgeted with his fingers, nervously. “Under me and my wife. Your new masters. Sauron and Lady (Y/N),” he introduced the woman the Orcs were the most curious about as he reached out his arm and she sighed, taking it and walking up to him to show herself although she had just asked him not to put her on display.

“What they say is true. My wife is a daughter of Morgoth,” Mairon announced, proudly and with a big grin on his face.

“And my husband – his most faithful and powerful Lieutenant,” (Y/N) announced, trying to legitimise his claims in the eyes of their army.

Perhaps she deserved it all more than him but the truth was that without his support she would not go far. He was far more experienced than her and he had been taking part in real battles for her father. 

“And with a new age, we bring you a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest,” Mairon promised, addressing the Orcs but squeezing his wife’s hand and she squeezed his back, sensing his nervousness. “For we seek a new kind of power,” he let go of her hand and raised his own as he spoke as if he was giving them all a lesson. (Y/N) clasped her hands on her abdomen, nearly humbly, but she remained right by his side this time without retreating to the shadows. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will,” Mairon explained.

The Orcs looked at each other and hummed to themselves, quite satisfied with such a promise. (Y/N) cracked a smile at her husband and he smiled back but his face went very serious again.

“Many Orcs will die,” he added and the atmosphere inside the room shifted immediately as the Orcs changed their humming into growling.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon tried to show some excitement while explaining his plan to the Orcs, hoping they would share his enthusiasm. After all, they were not very intelligent beings. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but the Orcs were not calmed down at all.

Malicious whispers in Black Speech echoed through the room – “Sauron lies”.

(Y/N) moved uncomfortably and glanced at her husband but he was too embarrassed to lay his eyes upon her as well. He was slowly starting to feel humiliated and to be humbled in front of her was nearly as dreadful as death. He was desperate to prove his worth to her, to make her see that he was truly a worthy successor of her father. But whatever he was proving now was the fact he was nothing but still his pathetic servant. A shadow of Melkor.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he continued but his voice slightly trembled out of nervousness and he clasped his hands in the same manner as his wife had clasped hers. However, he managed to lower his voice once more and make it sound dark again. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

The Orcs’ growling did not stop. In fact it had gotten worse.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” Mairon ignored their unhappy reaction as he went on.

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted one of the Orcs standing nearby – chosen to be one of their personal guards – shifting slightly and she spotted a dagger in his hands.

“Watch out!” She gasped at her husband and took a step back, watching him turn around quite elegantly and slitting the Orc’s throat swiftly in self-defence.

The audience went completely quiet and (Y/N) blinked a few times at the sight. She had never witnessed her husband like that and if he cared so much about proving his worth – perhaps at this very moment he just had.

The Orc fell down to his knees, choking on his own blood. (Y/N) approached Mairon, feeling Adar’s intense gaze on her back. Her husband pulled the Orc even closer to himself and watched the life leaving his victim with fascination and resentment. (Y/N) tilted her head and watched, too.

And after a while, she reached for her own dagger and finished the assassin off with a few systematic and rough thrusts. After the last one, the Orc’s body fell down lifeless and bleeding. (Y/N) looked up into her husband’s eyes. She could sense he was surprised and impressed but he chose not to show it.

Mairon turned around to run his hands through his ginger hair that had gotten ruffled in the fight. He wanted to always present himself neatly in front of his followers, therefore he smoothed them in a nonchalant manner that also betrayed his nervousness.

(Y/N) did not bother to fix anything about her appearance while she hid her blade away without even wiping it. Her anger rose as she looked at the filthy army of the Orcs below them.

“We are your only future and our path is your only path!” She yelled at them, feeling her face swelling up with thick, black blood she inherited from her father’s cursed flesh he had been bound to. Another long silence occurred at her outburst and she felt herself calming down a little at the sight of the Orcs tilting their heads. Perhaps only now they had truly realised whose daughter she really was and that it was not wise to raise her anger. “Who among you dare say otherwise?” She asked, calmly.

No one dared to say anything, therefore she stood by Adar’s side and he took Mairon’s crown from one of the velvet cushions. Her husband was supposed to be crowned first and she cracked a smile at him once he was kneeling down, presenting himself nearly humbly as he waited for Morgoth’s reforged crown to be put onto his head.

The Orcs were growling and snarling when Adar raised the crown to show it to them but now, when (Y/N) had tasted their blood, she was not afraid to taste more. She would fight each one of them if she had to. It was her right. Her father had created them and they had no right to question her or her husband.

She had chosen Mairon to be her companion. Perhaps he had been manipulating her into this choice but, in the end, it had been entirely her decision to choose him despite everything. The only person in the whole world who had any right to question him was she. Nobody else.

She was about to become the Queen of Middle-earth and only the Queen could question her King Consort. The one she had chosen for herself.

She got a little dreamy thinking all these thoughts and spotted Mairon looking up to meet her gaze. He was so uncertain at the moment, so humiliated and so humble… Her heart clenched inside her chest as she sent him an encouraging and loving smile. It visibly soothed him and he looked down once more.

Perhaps he would never be truly worthy of her but still – out of all the men in Middle-earth – he was the most worthy one.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron and Lady (Y/N)!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord and The Dark Queen.”

A shiver of anticipation travelled down her body. Perhaps her husband would never be truly worthy of her but the truth was – she would not have been there if it was not for him. He made it all possible. He was the one to take her back from her father’s cold realm created to protect her. Because, genuinely, she was not sure if she had been able to get out of there alone.

She owed him everything just like he owed everything to her.

“All hail!” The Orcs chanted hesitantly and Adar walked up to Mairon.

(Y/N) watched Adar carefully – something was not right about him, something was very off-putting and very worrying. She furrowed her brows and then she realised what he was about to do after raising the crown up and turning it around in a swift movement, directing the iron spikes at Mairon.

“No!” She yelled and jumped into the front but a sharp pain in the abdomen stopped her from continuing.

“No!” It was Mairon’s turn to scream now as she looked down and saw the spikes of her father’s crown buried deep into her stomach. She raised her eyes and furrowed her brows at Adar – her assassin. There was satisfaction written all over his face.

“I pitied you… But you are just like him,” he whispered before taking the spikes out of her body and turning around to attack Mairon with them now. (Y/N) reached her hands out weakly but she fell to her knees and grabbed her hurt stomach.

She should not die easily – after all she was half a Vala. But she was also half an Elf and the Vala who was her father had been bound to his flesh. Therefore, an item so powerful was able to defeat her – or at least to destroy her flesh.

She choked at the blurred sight of her husband being pierced through with Morgoth’s crown and then a bunch of Orcs came at him. He was trying to fight them back bravely and get to her, shouting her name but it was all for nothing. There were too many of the Orcs keeping them apart and tearing him to pieces.

(Y/N) sobbed and Adar crouched down next to her, holding her chin up so her dying eyes could still see her husband’s torment.

“The legacy of your father is gone now,” Adar whispered right before she lost consciousness.

When (Y/N) came back to reality, she felt her own presence but there was no shape nor flesh around it. She existed as a spirit and she found herself inside the very same hall she had been slain in but it was empty now. There were dark shadows where her body and her husband’s body had laid in the puddles of thick, black blood as anger filled her whole presence at the memory of betrayal.

She felt the cold wind coming inside through the doors and she was on her way outside, already trying to come up with what her next flesh would look like. She had lost the one she was given by birth – the one which actually looked like a mix of her mother and the body her father had been bound to. But now she would forge a new flesh for herself and she had to admit that was quite exciting. Perhaps without pointy ears this time – to blend in with the crowd.

Her plan was to leave the North and to go South. To join the humans and the Elves and all the other creatures living there – to meet them, to see how they lived, to learn their patterns and about the world she was supposed to rule one day.

Finally she would leave the land of the endless snow. Where once her father and then her husband had kept her as if she was their prisoner.

But as she moved closer and closer to the door, she felt a tugging presence within the walls of the abandoned fortress. Sauron.

He was still alive somehow – in a way – just like she was but much weaker and not as aware of his own self as she was. It was no surprise, after all he was only a Maia.

And if she left him now, perhaps he would never survive on his own.

(Y/N) froze right in front of the doors leading outside. She wanted to go, she really did. She had craved to see the world ever since she had been a little girl…

But she could not leave him. She could not leave Sauron. Her husband. 

She remembered his nervous smile, his fidgeting fingers, his ginger hair, his blushing cheeks. How he would steal delicate kisses from her, how they would lay in each other’s arms under the covers and whisper sweet things. How his eyelashes would brush the skin of her cheeks in the most intimate moments.

She could not leave him. He needed her.

Even though she was not sure if he would do the same thing for her.

And just like that, she retreated and went down to the dark, cold and damp corridors under the fortress. And even though she was capable of forging herself a new flesh much quicker than he was, she delayed it because she allowed his weak and pathetic form to feed off of her energy to keep him strong and alive. She was giving herself away to him – piece by piece, which was slowing down her own progress of forging new body but it was increasing the speed of his. And she nearly felt chained with her own devotion instead of the real chains – just like her mother remained chained to her father in some foreign realm where Melkor was being punished.

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured (Y/N) and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” (Y/N) noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly.

This conversation had taken place when they had first met. Apparently, she found out the answer to her question – who would ever be worthy of sharing her power? He was.

(Y/N) was half-Elf and Elves were mortal creatures in a way they could be slain or fatally injured. When Adar had killed her, he had killed the elven part of her. The light was gone from her body now and it was no longer a question of whether she would tilt into the light or the darkness. Oh, no… The decision was made.

“Once we get out of here, once we forge ourselves new flesh, my darling,” she cooed to the black, slimy creature that remained all left of her husband at the moment, “we will have our revenge. And do not even try to stop me from destroying anything or anyone,” she threatened as the black, weakly breathing substance whined. “You are right, my sweet, the world needs to be healed. But it is far too rotten. We have to start over. We have to rebuild it once more, from the ashes of the current one. The Dark Queen and her Dark Lord.”

She had been nothing but a chrysalis so far but – soon – she would bloom into a beautifully terrifying butterfly.

Into her father’s daughter.

MASTERLIST

[nhmkhnh]

#SERIES—01 ──── CHAPTER—03

i blame it on my love, i can't help it, i can't stop.

pairings: dom!top!vi x sub!bot!fem!reader

author's note: finally done this series haha! enjoy, my girls!

rating: explicit. (minors & men dni) | words: 1.1k list: pevert!amab!vi ;; desperate!vi ;; obsession ;; unhinged behavior ;; bathroom sex ;; semi-public sex ;; dom/sub energy.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

1 | 2 | 3

you weren’t supposed to show up tonight.

vi had come to milo’s party ready to act normal. ready to hang out, drink a little, crack dumb jokes. she told herself she could keep it cool. told herself she wouldn’t think about the pair of panties still under her pillow, the scent she buried her face into when the nights got too long.

and then you walked in — laughing, hair down, skirt short — and all her resolve crumbled.

she stared.

you didn’t even notice. you hugged your brother, waved at some friends, sipped a drink with that soft little smile that made vi’s hands curl into fists in her jacket pockets.

it was a warm night, and your skin glowed in the party lights. every now and then, your gloss caught the light when you licked your lips. you wore a perfume that made her stomach clench.

vi tried not to hover.

tried to be normal.

she drank a beer. laughed at someone’s joke. nodded along to the music thumping from the living room speakers.

but then she caught you looking at her.

just a second — just a glance — but it felt like a fucking bullet to the chest.

you smiled at her. not coy. not sultry. just nice. sweet.

and that was somehow worse.

you didn’t know. you had no idea what you were doing to her. no idea that vi was sitting there remembering the way your panties felt in her fist while she came moaning your name.

you ended up on the couch beside her an hour later, laughing at something milo said.

your leg brushed hers. she tensed.

“vi,” you said, tapping her arm lightly with your drink. “you’re quiet.”

too quiet. too stiff. too close.

she gave you a tight smile. “just enjoying the view.”

you laughed, not catching the way her eyes dropped to your lips again.

your thigh pressed into hers again and she nearly groaned.

fuck this.

she couldn’t take it anymore.

she grabbed your wrist mid-conversation.

you blinked. “vi?”

“c’mere.”

you followed, too trusting, too unaware — giggling like it was some kind of game as she led you down the hallway, away from the noise, the lights, the watchful eyes.

“where are we—”

she didn’t answer.

the bathroom door slammed shut behind you. lock clicked.

“vi—”

and then she was on you.

hands on your waist. mouth against your neck. breathing like she was starving, like she hadn’t tasted water in days and you were the first clean sip.

you gasped, pushed at her shoulders — “what are you—” — but her mouth found your collarbone, her hand sliding up your thigh, and your breath caught.

“been thinking about you,” she murmured, lips dragging hot against your skin. “for so fucking long.”

you trembled, heart racing. “vi—this—”

“i know,” she groaned, pressing you back against the sink. “i know you don’t get it. but i can’t—fuck, i can’t stop.”

her mouth met yours before you could speak again — open, desperate, messy. her hand cupped your face, tilting it just right, her tongue claiming you like she was staking something primal.

you whimpered, legs trembling, hands curling into the front of her hoodie.

she kissed you like she needed to — like it was this or death.

and you… you kissed her back.

your mind was foggy, spinning.

you didn’t understand what was happening. didn’t understand how her hands knew exactly where to grip — how her mouth found every soft spot with a kind of reverence that felt terrifying and addictive all at once.

her thigh slipped between yours. you gasped.

“fuck,” vi whispered. “you feel that?”

you nodded, barely.

“been dreaming about this,” she said against your jaw. “about you.”

your breath caught. “w-what?”

she didn’t answer.

her hand was already hiking up your skirt, palm hot and heavy against your thigh. she stared at you like you were something divine — lips parted, pupils blown, jaw clenched.

“i shouldn’t,” she muttered.

but her hand slid higher anyway.

“i know i shouldn’t.”

she pressed her fingers to the front of your panties. damp.

you whimpered.

her eyes darkened. “but you’re fucking soaked for me.”

“vi,” you choked out.

“i knew you would be,” she whispered. “knew you’d be so good for me.”

she didn’t even bother pulling your panties off — just dragged them to the side and slipped two fingers between your folds like she owned the place.

your back hit the mirror. “oh—fuck—”

“so wet,” she growled, fingers curling. “all this for me?”

your hips jerked.

“yeah?” she rasped. “you gonna let me have it?”

you nodded. desperate. weak. melting.

she kissed you again, filthier this time — tongue deep, possessive, dragging moans out of your throat like confessions.

her fingers fucked you slow at first. deep. measured.

she watched your face the whole time. memorizing. worshipping.

“you’re so pretty like this,” she whispered. “so fuckin’ soft.”

“v-vi—please—”

“you want more?”

you nodded frantically.

she added a third finger. your thighs clenched.

“there you go, baby,” she whispered. “taking it so good.”

she twisted her wrist, hitting that spot inside you with the precision of someone who’d practiced this in her head a hundred times.

maybe she had.

her thumb found your clit and your knees nearly gave out.

she held you up with one arm, fingers relentless, hips grinding against your thigh like she couldn’t help herself.

“can’t stop thinking about you,” she groaned against your neck. “your voice. your smile. those fuckin’ legs.”

you cried out, clinging to her hoodie.

“touch yourself to your selfies,” she admitted like a sin. “to the sound of your laugh. to your fucking underwear, baby.”

your eyes flew open. “wh-what?”

vi didn’t stop.

her fingers pumped harder. deeper. her eyes were wild, mouth trembling with how close she was to snapping completely.

“wanted to be good,” she gasped. “tried. swear i did. but you kept… wearing those shorts. smiling at me.”

you couldn’t breathe.

“started stealing shit. couldn’t help it. just wanted pieces of you.”

your orgasm hit hard and sudden — shuddering through you with a high-pitched gasp, thighs clenching around her wrist as you buried your face in her neck.

vi groaned like she came.

“fuck, yes,” she growled. “that’s my girl.”

she didn’t stop moving until you were shaking, overstimulated, hips twitching every time her fingers slid home again.

you sagged against the counter, weak, dazed.

vi kissed your cheek.

“i’ll be good now,” she whispered. “promise.”

but her hand was still between your legs.

and she was already hard in her jeans.

[steddieasitgoes]

i wanna be close to you

written for @steddie-week Day 3 prompt: Longing/Mutual Pining Rating: T | wc: 1825 | no cw special thank you to @sidekickjoey for beta-ing this at the last minute (and my day 1 one too because I forgot to mention it on the post!) Read on ao3

The smell of chlorine lingers on their skin. 

Eddie’s hair is a tangled mess, partly from the hours spent horsing around in the pool with the kids and partly because that’s just its default state. He claims it’s for proper curl maintenance, but Steve has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t like the way a brush or comb feels working through the tangles.  

They’re lying on the roof of Steve’s house. It’s not the smartest of ideas — what with the handful of beers and joint or two they’ve shared in the hours since the kids rode their bikes home — but he can’t deny that it’s nice. There’s an evening breeze chasing off the humid summer heat as the sun sets in the distance. Soon, they’ll be plunged into darkness, with nothing but the dim stars above them and the distant streetlights to keep them visible. 

Steve’s counting down the moments until the darkness overtakes them, until he doesn’t have to worry about Eddie rolling over and spotting the flush that’s spread from the tips of his ears all the way down to his newly pierced belly button (that’s the last time he makes an Uno bet with Robin, that cheater). Until the moment when Eddie won’t be bathed in warm yellows and oranges from the setting sun like some painting that belongs in a museum. 

It’s quiet up here, aside from Eddie’s restless fingers tapping on the tiles of the roof beside him.  Two short taps, another, then a drag, two short taps, three drags, three taps, and so on. It’s not steady like the usual beats he plucks out with his fingers, but he keeps repeating it over and over and over again. It’s a welcome noise, a nice distraction from Steve’s racing heart that he’s sure Eddie could hear if he wasn’t lost in his own thoughts. 

Steve’s never been in a situation like this before, lying so close to someone — thighs touching, hands practically pinned between their sides — and being unable to reach out and touch. 

Not in the way he wants to, at least. 

He wants his lips on Eddie’s. 

He wants to know what the slight stubble on his jaw would feel like against his cheek.

He wants to chart every scar, every imperfection, every tattoo with his hands and then his lips. Maybe even his tongue and teeth. 

He craves to know what it feels like to have Eddie’s weight on top of him and what his warm eyes will look like when he’s the one hovering over him. 

He wants other things, too. 

More moments like this for one, the two of them perfectly content in the stillness of the night. And more moments like earlier, where the noise reached questionable levels as they goofed around with the kids. 

He wants to cook Eddie breakfast, even if it takes him three tries to get the eggs right because he knows he’s picky about the consistency. He wants to hold his hand in public and not have to worry about what anyone is going to say about it. He wants Eddie to be the last person he sees when he goes to bed, and the first person when he wakes up.

He wants and wants and wants, and Steve is used to getting what he wants.

But, Eddie is a want he can’t have. 

It’s too risky. Maybe, if it was just their relationship at stake, Steve would be brave enough to curl his finger around Eddie’s tapping away beside him, give a little tentative touch to test the waters before he fully gives in to his desires. 

But it’s not just his relationship at stake. No, it’s the kids’ and Robin’s and Nance’s. Hell, even Joyce and Hopper’s relationship with Wayne would be muddled if Steve did something to make Eddie uncomfortable. 

He can’t risk it. 

They’ve lost too much over the years to risk losing a friend like Eddie, too. 

So, Steve resides himself to the longing deep in his bones and steals another quick glance at Eddie in all his glory beside him. 

He’s sitting up now, knees pulled up to his bare chest as he looks out into the darkness that’s spreading by the second. He wraps his restless arms around his legs, pillowing his head on the tops of his skinned knees. His eyelashes are long, fanning against his cheek with every slow blink. Eddie stays like that for a moment or two before he turns his head, squinting into the darkness of night until Steve comes into focus.

Steve watches as Eddie’s lips slowly twitch up into a smile that makes his entire body turn molten. It takes every muscle in Steve’s body to keep himself planted on the roof. Internally, he’s at war with himself — one side telling him to run, to dive inside the window to his bedroom and get as far away from Eddie as he can; the other side telling him to throw caution to the wind, close the distance, and go after what he wants just like he’s always done. 

He doesn’t do either. Instead, he pushes himself into a seated position until he’s mirroring Eddie, knees to his chest and his head turned in his direction, soaking in the quiet moment with his best friend. 

Steve’s gotten used to Eddie’s tapping on the roof, to the rustling of the trees in the evening breeze and the final chirps from the birds calling their flock to bed. To the occasional crackling of asphalt underneath worn tires as people come home from work.

Now, it’s quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Too still. 

Eddie doesn’t fidget. He barely even blinks, eyes too focused on Steve darting all around as if he’s trying to commit him to memory. He swears he notices Eddie’s cheeks turning pink — it’s subtle, but it’s there. He knows it is. 

Maybe he feels it too, Steve thinks, eyes closed as he muddles through the emotions swirling in his head. Maybe Eddie wants him, too.

When he opens them, Eddie’s still looking at him with those soft, warm eyes of his. Unwavering. He’s fully sitting up now, too, his head no longer buried in his folded arms over his knees.

His cheeks are still a rosy red color, and something inside Steve snaps at the little detail. His resolve weakens, his fingers itching to close the distance as his heart slows down for the first time since they clumsily climbed onto the roof. 

This is it, Steve thinks. If ever there was a moment to risk it all, it’s right now. 

“Hey, Ed—“ 

The words die on the tip of Steve’s tongue as Eddie kisses him. 

The world goes quiet; even his brain has hit the mute button, allowing him to focus on the press of his lips against Eddie’s. Unfortunately, that’s all it is. A chaste press of lips like middle school kids unsure of what the mechanics of a kiss look like beyond lip-to-lip contact.  

Just as Steve’s leaning in to deepen the kiss, Eddie pulls away. 

Steve watches as the moment registers in Eddie’s mind — his face going from a pleasant rosy red to scarlet in an instant. He fidgets beside him, desperately trying to get to his feet to make his great escape without rolling off the roof. 

It makes Steve nervous. 

So nervous, his hand moves on his own volition, wrapping around Eddie’s wrist to steady the man and his lanky limbs. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says in a rush. He shakes his head, tangled curls flying about haphazardly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t — fuck, I — I don’t know what I thought. I’m just —“ 

“Hey,” Steve calls, barely above a whisper because there’s no reason to yell. He reaches a tentative hand out and curls it underneath Eddie’s chin until he’s looking into those familiar brown eyes. “Don’t apologize. I wanted it, too. I want you.”

Steve's lips are on Eddie’s a moment later. It’s just as awkward, maybe even worse, and for a horrified second, he wonders if this is the universe’s way of saying that they don’t belong together. But then, Eddie’s kissing him back, and the world makes sense. 

It feels good — better than any kiss Steve’s ever had. The scratch of Eddie’s stubble against his cheek is perfect. Eddie’s lips are rougher than any girl he’s ever been with, sure, but Steve still loves it. It makes him feel less bad about grazing his bottom lip with his teeth until he’s pulling it, coaxing a gasp from Eddie that Steve takes advantage of immediately. 

They have to be careful —  way more careful than Steve wants to be right now — so they don’t go rolling off the roof, but they work with what they’ve got. Eddie’s hands settle on the backside of his neck, fingers curling into the strands at the base, pulling gently until Steve’s making his own embarrassing noises into the once quiet night. 

Steve never pulls away, breathing through his nose instead as his lips map the expanse of Eddie’s face — the curve of his lips, the dimple high on his cheekbone and down to the tender spot behind his ear. 

Eddie shifts, hands dropping until they’re resting on Steve’s bare thigh, dangerously close to the hem of his swim trunks. Steve feels himself twitch and as good as it feels, he really, really doesn’t want to do this on his roof where any one of his neighbors might see if they look out their windows. 

“Eddie,” Steve says, finally pulling his mouth away from his warm, inviting skin. “Fuck, Eddie. We can’t—“ Eddie’s face falls and Steve’s heart sinks to his feet as he starts rambling out an explanation. “We can. I mean, of course, we can. I want to. Just not here. Not on my roof—“ Pleased, Eddie resumes his touch, hands trailing closer and closer to the hem as his lips explore his neck now. Steve pants beside him, trying to control himself. “My room. Let’s move this to my room.” 

It’s not elegant in the slightest. The two of them push and shove their way through the small window, nearly getting stuck because they’re too impatient to take turns, but they manage to fall through the window and a second later onto Steve’s plush queen bed. And then they’re lost in each other, lips and hands, and it’s everything Steve thought it would be and somehow even better. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Eddie whispers later when they’re settled in the sheets. He’s using Steve as a pillow, head rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Steve’s got one hand in his hair, twirling a tangled lock between his fingers, the other wrapped around Eddie’s shoulder, holding him there just in case Eddie tries to run again. 

“Good.” Steve smiles, dipping his head down to press a kiss into the mess of curls. “I think I’m in love with you, too.” 

[mhsdatgo]

By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.