#I hope you do whatever makes you happy too!

[chastiefoul]

waking them up with kisses

ft. nanami, gojo, sukuna, toji short, fluff, light-hearted. honestly such a word-vomit, written while i was half asleep. but hey hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! slightly suggestive on gojo

nanami

there’s a slight smile on his face by the third time your lips made contact with his skin, yet he showed no of being awake to you, who’s still oblivious to his subtle change of expression as you kept peppering soft kisses across his cheekbone. finally a low chuckle escaped him, he just couldn’t help it. “good morning to you too, my love,” he muttered, pulling you who’s still in his arms closer. the warmth of your body as he embraced you sent an unexplainable ticklish feeling to his stomach.

“seriously, it took so many kisses to wake you up,” you said lightly, brushing the strand of his blond hair. such a weird sensation, to be this giddy right after you woke up, but it’s one nanami welcomed so openly. “hmm, i might need even more to be fully awake,” he replied with a teasing smile, closing his eyes. you felt his leg tangling with yours, there wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t touching yours. like a cat snuggling for warmth.

your hand couldn’t keep itself still, moving from his hair to his cheek. running along your thumb gently across his lashes, and the man suddenly fluttered them open. there wasn’t anything except love as he gazed at you so softly, grabbing your hand as he planted a kiss on your palm. all of it just felt so right, and you couldn’t help but wish that time ticked slower in small moments like this.

gojo

a big grin made its way to his face almost immediately when you started showering the man with kisses. his hair messy from sleep as he lied down, surrendering himself to your attacks; he laughed genuinely, the beautiful sound made you more determined. the mere expression of him being that happy brought you the same if not more amount of joy.

when you finally pulled away there’s a satisfied smile on his face as he opened his eyes. “best morning ever,” he said, pulling you close to his chest, forcing you to rest your head there as you listened to his steady heartbeat. “that’s what you said last time too when i woke you up with a head,” you bantered, there’s a lightness in your chest. he chuckled once more.

“well every morning i start by seeing your face is the best one baby, couldn’t help it,” he muttered, very lightly pinching your cheek as he said this. he then raised your chin with a finger, making you look up at him as he kissed your lips sweetly, moving slowly at the beat of his own drums as he pecked the outer corner of your mouth, and then your cheek. and then there’s just pure mischief on his eyes.

“my turn now!”

sukuna

sukuna indulged himself in a few more of your gentle touches on his face, the softness of it almost made him felt like he was out of place. yet he couldn’t help it, savoring each of your kiss as to making sure he won’t get used to it. finding wonders to every of your move as he cherished it so.

“i’m awake,” he mumbled, thinking it’ll stop you from doing it. but when your response was just to give you more of it he couldn’t help but blinked awake; the sight of you smiling down at him almost made his heart burst. “morning!” you said sweetly, resting the palm of your hand on his bare chest.

“i’m already exhausted looking at your energized-self on the first light of the day,” he claimed, covering your hand with his. “well, we have a date today, of course i’m excited,” you said, the exuberance was apparent on your voice. sukuna looked like he was thinking for a moment before making you lie back down on his arms.

“let me sleep a little longer, then we will do whatever it is that  you want.”

toji

“what’s got you so chirpy, hm?” he had an lazy smile on his face, eyes still closing. his calm expression betraying the giddy feeling in his chest; you were so fucking cute, what’s a man supposed to do? once again you planted a kiss on his lips, right on his scar. there it was again, the damn itch on his chest he couldn’t scratch.

“nothing, just happy,” you replied, drawing random patterns on his chest. “yeah?” he brought you closer with the hand that’s still wrapped around your waist. you nodded happily, snuggling closer to his neck.

toji thought words such as forever or eternity was bullshit until that moment, until he's got you tightly in his hold; all safe and cozy without a care in the world. yet in that split second he wanted it to be true. y’know, just to humor him a little.

“if i didn’t know any better i woulda thought you won a lottery or something.”

but it would be wrong. since he already won it when he met you.

[fishnapple]

How will they protect the relationship

(lover/partner/future spouse) - Channelled message

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

GROUP 1

Sometimes, I fear that you will get used to our relationship to the point of boredom, that our relationship will become just a habit, a routine that you do everyday, mechanically, without enthusiasm or passion. That fear crept in my mind, taking roots, and there will be moments when I let it grow and poke its branches out. Imaginary scenarios swirl in my mind, threatening to spiral out of control.

But I will snap out of it in no time. I'm a master at bringing myself out of the dark, I'm a good runner, running in the night long enough, and you're bound to see the sun rise again. I will try to look at myself first, from an objective lens, to find where I can change, what baggage I need to get rid of. Then I will look at our relationship, I will find a way to lift it up, make it exciting again. Do you like puzzles? Do you like sculpting? Would you like to try a new recipe? Let's forget for a moment all our adult responsibilities and be free. To be excited teenagers again, falling in love for the first time again. I will write you love letters full of typos, sending you half-baked cakes and cringy T-shirts, you will laugh and you will join me.

I do notice that there are some people around us, people who shouldn't come that close, who shouldn't be there at all. They don't understand the concept of respecting other people's boundaries. They will try to turn a blind eye to our commitment, pretend that it doesn't exist. Blatantly coming in without knocking, thinking that they can just take you away from me and me from you. They think that their tactics are subtle enough, that in time, they can corrode our bond. Little touches here and there, the gaze, the "innocent" banters. I can see them all, I will try to put a distance between me and them, so I hope you will do that too, I also hope that you will patiently listen to me when I warn you of those people. Yes, sometimes you will have to call me a possessive person. I just want to shut out everyone dare to threaten us, to find a place where only us exist. But that's impossible, I know, so the best I can do is tell them off as clear as possible, trying to show that we're together, there's no space between us. Let them be jealous, we just need to focus on us and walk away, hand in hand.

GROUP 2

I know we have a lot of unspoken words stuck inside. The silence between can sometimes grow to such a suffocating weight, pushing us down, deeper and deeper into our own abyss.

We both will be so uncertain of our future together, where will we go, is there a place strong enough to shelter us, are we strong enough? We hope for the same things, we are so alike, even our fears are alike, and I don't know whether to be happy or sad about this.

Our bond will be tested numerous times. There will be a time when we've almost given up, but fate or whatever higher powers are at play here, will bring us back together, anew and ready to try again. I wasn't a spiritual person, but by being with you, being in this relationship, I began to believe in something intangible, in the unknown, it scared me, but all I can do is to move forward, with you, and that's where our fears begin. We move forward together, into the unknown future that holds no concrete promise.

Then I realised we've forgotten to remember where we've put our wishes in, what we've wished for. If we can just remember, then there's no point in worrying. I will give you a hint: it's a wish that spans from the past to the future. We felt like we've known each other for a long time when we first met, and I believe we will be in each other's lives for the far future to see. That belief alone is enough for me to feel brave. And I will sit down, take out my pens and notebook, and begin to scribble down the plan, the path for us, give voice to the stuck words inside, air them out. I will show you that plan and tell you to not worry about the future, instead just focus on this current life in front of us, we got this, believe in us.

GROUP 3

Sometimes, I think that we are two pieces of puzzles fit perfectly together. If not, then there's no way to explain how you have everything I lack, and I, in turn, have an abundance of things that you don't. We have our fair share of issues that alone, we seem to lack the strength to tackle them, but together, they seem so silly and easy. You can be the wind and I will be the pipes, you can be the water and I will be the pump. Now that sounds silly, but you get my gist. There will be times when you cry, I will be there, holding you close and being the cool headed one to make logical decisions. There will be times when I'm so down, you will be there, holding me close and being the soft pillow that raises my head up.

There will be problems, from inside and outside, but I believe we can weather them all. The problems will mainly come from the place of insecurities and misunderstanding. People's words can be cutting and unintentionally hurtful, sometimes intentionally. They sow the seeds of doubts inside our minds. But let's believe in the visions of ourselves and of each other. We see ourselves best. We will sit down, talk it all out, there's no barrier between us. I'm proud of our direct and open way of communicating. I can always count on us to be rational and discuss things until we can reach a solution. Yes, there might be tears and angry voices here and there, but they are the minority and will go away quickly. We're too sure of our commitment and ourselves to let those bother us for too long.

Whatever action needed to be taken, it would be taken swiftly. If it's required of me to be cutting something, somebody out of our life, I will do it, no hesitation. Because I trust in our judgement. And if it's required to move, I will move. I'm afraid distance will be our biggest hurdle. But we will find a way to be closer. Many things will need to be changed, our jobs, our homes. But we won't fear changes. Because changes will bring us to a better future.

GROUP 4

I want to prepare you beforehand, our relationship will be scrutinised by a lot of people. It's not like we are celebrities or anything. Why do they have to care so much? I honestly don't know and don't care either. Our bond just attracts a lot of jealousy and objections. The idea of us together will piss people off. They want something, a fixed future for us, they expect it, but then they have to watch a totally different outcome, surprises, surprises.

Particularly those who have authority over us, they're supposed to be the wise guidance, the benevolent power that can protect us, but they will turn their backs on us, worse, they will turn their sneering gaze and contemptuous words on us. That can't be helped, I guess, we're the rebels, we go against their rules and expectations. I know you will want our bond to be blessed by those around us, I want it too, but reality is something we will have to face. At first, we may even have to hide our love, it's frustrating.

Don't worry, I will be strong for us, you won't even have to fight anything, just let me take care of it. I have enough strength to do that. Don't picture the image of me making a foray against them like a bull thrusting its horn angrily. I have enough wit not to do that, just like how I've charmed you with my words, I can do it too, to other people, the people who are against us. If it doesn't work, then I will just be my best, showing them how much of a good life I'm having with you. In the end, I just don't really care. We have our love and that's enough. We can always move away, to a better place. You will be surprised just how much freedom we do have.

[just-some-random-blogger]

HAPPY NEW YEAR IN MID JANUARY! I HOPE EVEYTHING HAS BEEN AMAZING WITH YOUUU AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE <3

i bet the wedding was amazing but also a relief to be over now <3 slayed. also you telling me you peaked, as if this was an exam HAHHAHAH. PEAK TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT 😋 i dont believe in spoilers. you do you boo <3

What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

😬 death prolly

im gonna be honest with you, when i was writing the scene with her and caraxes, i wasnt trying to make it look like she wanted to kill herself... in all honesty, i dont think she was. i think she was mostly like 'if i cant have daemon, ill have caraxes' and then at some point she was like lmao this is a dragon 😆 i could get killed HAHAHAH

also HAHAA DAEMON ACCUSING HER OF INCEST HAHAHH NO CUZ WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY. tbf i think daemons just irrationally jealous of everyone. if she ever gets pregnant i dont think his first thought would be 'ah yes you fucked your twin brother' it would be like 'ah yes you fucked someone else because ive been pulling out' yknow

LAUGHING AT ARRYK IS REAL BUT ALSO FOULLLLLL. he loves herrr 🥺 dont be meannnnn

MEDIEVAL DNA TEST HAHAHAHAH. bestie i dont think daemon is smart enough to put one and one together

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

;KAGHSFLHA'LSFHL'HASFHSA I LOVE HOW IVE HAD PEOPLE GO AFTER ARRYK FOR TATTLING HAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. HE WAS A WOUNDED PUPPP. also the insinuation caraxes is emotionally constipated because daemon is 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 YOURE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THAT!!!!!!!! I kinda hate that for caraxes though. i 10000000% will be diving into caraxes and yn relationshippp ))))):

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

💯 no notes

[...] WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

and you're so right

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

I LOVE THE FACT IT HURT COS IT HURT ME FR WHEN I WROTE THIS I WAS CRYING TOO HAHAHHHAH. IF I DONT CRY WRITING IT, I DONT THINK ITS ANGSTY ENOUGH BESTIE. YOU PROLLY CRIED COS OUR BRAINS ARE LIKE THIS 🤞🤞🤞

UGH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I LOVE HOW YOU GET ME AND MY PARALELLS AND MY ANGST AND UGHHHHHHHHHHHH KISS YOU SO MUCHHH

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

[Rach: Why didn’t you get his number?] Iris: The entire conversation was five minutes. He was gone before I even thought about it. Besides, I spent half the time talking to his dog. He probably thought I was a weirdo.

[Rach: If he’s a dog person, he probably loved it.] Iris: Who knows. [Rach: Do you think you’ll run into him again?] Iris: Doubt it. I’m here almost every morning and I’ve never seen him before. He was just in the area for the vet clinic.

[Rach: Hmm. So, in theory, if you do see him again, it’s because he’s hoping to run into you.] Iris: [scoffs] Yeah, I’m not gonna hold my breath.

Iris: Shit. [Rach: What?] Iris: He’s here. What do I do? [Rach: Um, hang up the phone and go say hi?] Iris: Right. Okay. I’ll see you soon. Bye.

Iris: Hi. Ezra: Good morning. Iris: How’d Milo’s appointment go? Ezra: Great, he got a clean bill of health. More importantly, you were right about the biscuits, he was very happy. Iris: [smiles] Good.

Barista: What can I get for you? Ezra: An oat milk latte… and whatever she’s having. Iris: Oh, um, a macchiato.

Iris: Why did you do that? Ezra: It’s just a thing I do sometimes, buying coffee for the person behind me. Iris: [skeptical] Why?

Ezra: [shrugs] To brighten their day, and hope they’ll pay it forward. Iris: Making the world a better place, one coffee at a time? Ezra: Something like that.

Iris: You should be careful about that. Ezra: How so? Iris: You might give someone the wrong impression. You don’t want them thinking you’re interested if you’re not.

Ezra: I’ll admit, I am usually more discreet about it than I was today. Iris: Oh? Ezra: I have some time before I have to be to work. I was thinking about grabbing a table outside and enjoying the nice weather if you’d like to join me. Iris: Um… sure. I have about thirty minutes to spare. Ezra: I’ll take it.

--

Iris: So, what do you do, Ezra? Ezra: I’m a teacher. Brindleton Bay High. Iris: [sarcastic] Go Huskies. Ezra: [laughs] Right.

Iris: Did you go to that school? Ezra: No, I just moved here a few years ago. Iris: That’s good. I don’t trust people who choose to work at the same high school they went to. Ezra: Why’s that?

Iris: Too many memories. Seems you’d be haunted by the past every time you walked down the halls. Personally, I don’t think I could ever step foot in that building again. Ezra: You were a husky? Iris: [nods] Born and raised in the Bay. Ezra: There are worse places.   Iris: I suppose.

Iris: What do you teach? Ezra: Biology. Tenth Grade. Iris: Yikes. Must be awful. Ezra: You’d think so, but I love it.  

Iris: Hm. Tell me, do you still make kids dissect frogs? Ezra: Every year. Iris: Horrific. Ezra: Let me guess, you were one of the students that refused, taking a moral stance?

Iris: Oh, I didn’t just refuse, I organized a protest. Got half the school to walk out. We were on the local news. Ezra: You were quite the activist. Iris: Hardly. I was just bored. And I was trying to get the attention of a boy I liked who happened to be vegan.

Ezra: Did it work? Iris: It did, for a while. Ezra: What happened? Iris: He caught me devouring a hamburger at the mall with my friends. Turns out I’m not cut out for the long con.

Ezra: I’d say that’s a good thing. Unless you’ve improved since then? Iris: No. I gave up on lying. It’s exhausting. If anything, I’m too honest. People don’t like it, but [shrugs]. Ezra: I like honesty. Iris: Me too.

Iris: Shit, you get oat milk in your latte. You’re not vegan, are you? Ezra: No, just lactose intolerant. Iris: Thank god. Not that I’d care if you were, but I have a habit of saying the wrong thing and I worried I’d embarrassed myself. Ezra: No no, not at all.

Iris: Good. Well, um, thank you for the coffee. I have to go or I’m going to be late for work. Ezra: Wait, you didn’t tell me what you do. Iris: I guess we’ll have to do this again tomorrow then. That is, unless you’re secretly married, in which case, I’m not interested in some weird coffeeshop affair. Ezra: [laughs] No. Divorced, and very much single.

Iris: In that case, if tomorrow goes well, I might let you ask me out on a proper date.

[sleepycg]

aw, sweetheart, you're not feeling well today? okay, hm, let's try a few things and see if they make you feel a little better, okay?

⋆ have you taken your meds today? if not, please do so. your body might be upset because it doesn't have its medicine!

⭒ drink some water! even just a little can make a huge difference.

⋆ eat something! it doesn't have to be a big meal. a small snack is good, too! getting any kind of fuel in your tummy is better than no fuel at all.

⭒ clean yourself up! a shower or bath can help you relax and feel fresh. if you don't have the energy or motivation for that, it's okay! there's many other ways you can freshen yourself up: brush your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face, put on deodorant, use dry shampoo, wipe yourself down with a wet rag or baby wipes, put on lotion, etc.

⋆ move around! take a walk outside, pace around your room, dance to music you love (you could play a fun game like just dance!), play a game like tag or soccer, or even just stretch while you're in bed! both your body and mind will thank you for getting some movement in.

⭒ tidy your space up! you don't have to do a full deep cleaning of your room. picking up a few things and putting them away is just as good. a cleaner space can improve your mood a ton!

⋆ talk to someone! it can be anyone: a friend, a family member, a partner, a caregiver, or even someone new. talk about your interests, a show, the weather, or whatever else you feel like! having someone to talk to can make you feel less lonely and a lot happier.

⭒ do something that makes you happy! you can enjoy a hobby you love, or try a new hobby. you could watch a movie, read a book, or play a game. whatever you want, kiddo!

⋆ get some sleep! having a consistent bedtime and getting over 8 hours of sleep is very important for a little mind like yours. you can always grab your favorite stuffies and take a nap during the day. they'd love to cuddle with you while you get some rest!

i hope you feel better soon, sweetheart!

[gothghostiie]

Hello! I looove your work, and I had a thought on like a cod firefighter au??? It would kinda be like a scent kink thing I guess... Please feel free to ignore this completely if it makes you uncomfortable at all!!!!!

Ok so, when firefighters come back from a fire they REEK of smoke and chemicals and stuff and honestly it makes me think of two different scenarios:

Scenario 1: cod man gets home from a fire and this man is smelly. Butttt you're so excited he's home and you're just all over him, burying your face in his neck, licking the grime and sweat off of his torso- all of it. Just obsessed with him, his smell, and the fact that he's alive and healthy.

Scenario 2: (Ngl, this one makes me think of your bully!soap). Okay, cod man gets home and you're happy he's home, happy he's safe, but you beg him to go shower because yuck. He finds how grossed out you are funny or something, and it leads to some deviant activities... Such as being stuck with your face buried in his armpit as he drills you from whatever position and makes fun of you. Or grabs your hair and makes you huff his scent from his crotch before he encourages you to suck him off. That kinda stuff.

With either scenario I can just imagine reader getting dizzy off of the smells and stuff and it's just- yeah.

Anyways! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a wonderful day/night! Remember to stay hydrated and eat good food :)

have the greatest day and take care of yourself lovie🫶🏻 and i LOOOOVE this and ill be damned if that isnt bully!soap as your boyfriend bc c'mon. you don't seriously think he'd stop being a bully just because hes your boyfriend now, right?

cw: bully!soap is his own warning, CNC, scent kink, facesitting, gn!reader

It's natural and normal that he sweats when he's at work, considering his profession. it's normal for you that he smells a little funky when coming home, but today? today he just reeks for some reason. he comes home and hugs you, kissing your head, you scrunch up your face and push him off slightly. his brows furrow and he almost pouts, holding you tighter. "the hell are you doing?" he asks, you frown softly, tell him to plesse just shower really quick, he can get all the hugs and kisses he wants after, just get washed up.

its needless to say this turned on you the second the words left your lips.

hes grinning, grip on you tightening. "what, y'dont like the smell of a workin' man? a man providing for ya?" he scoffs playfully as you try to squirm out of his big, calloused hands, his grip only tightens. "can't even fuckin' handle a little bit of me huh? might have to help ya get used to it, aye?" your eyes widen at the implications. you know you're in for it now. he picks you up with ease, hands under your ass, you wrap your legs around his waist for support. with a devious grin on his face he carries you into your bedroom, dropping you on the soft bed unceremoniously. his hands fiddle with his pants as you think about your poor sheets, before you even realise it he's already crawling over you in just his underwear. you can't even speak up to ask him what he's doing as his thighs find home on either side of your head, you see him grin down at you before he sits down, planting himself firmly on your poor face. you make a protesting noise, being forced to breathe in his musky scent, the sweat of a long day of work. you cry out, hands grabbing at his thighs, he laughs at you.

"what's the matter babe? don't like your own boyfriend's smell? that's devastating." he says, his tone mocking as he rocks his hips slightly, making sure to really rub it in. you cry out again, nails digging into his skin, trying to somehow get him to get off your face, even if you know the attempts are for nothing. he laughs, patting your hands gently, shaking his head even if you can't see it. "y'really dont like having to endure that do ya? want me to get up off that pretty little face?" the offer is almost too good to be true, you don't even think before nodding; only when you hear his deep chuckle you know he already has another thing to put you through.

he ruts his hips sharply one more time, his semi twitching before he lifts his hip, staying knelt down. you gasp for air, sputtering with a proper pout on your face, it makes him laugh. he pats your cheek briefly, cooing at you. "poor fuckin' thing, can't even handle that, hm?" he chuckles, his hands going to his underwear, pulling it off off him with skilled movements, never getting off of you. you whimper, pressing your lips together, expecting him to shove his filthy cock into your mouth - but no. one hand grabs your face, the other bunches up his underwear. "open up. now." his tone leaves no room for argument, neither does the harsh grip on your face, forcing your mouth open. you whimper in defeat, jaw going slack, he smiles. "there ya go.. thats my baby.." he says softly, genuine affection in his voice, despite what he's doing to you. his other hand forces the bunched up fabric into your mouth, making you gag briefly.

"there there.." he chuckles, patting your head like a dog. "don't worry, gonna distract ya." finally, he gets off your face, you blink at him with teary eyes, letting him have his way as his taste fills your mouth. his hands undress you with a surprising gentleness, caressing and squeezing softly as he smiles down at you. his touch stays gentle even as he pushes his cock into you slowly, inch by inch as you moan, heat rising all throughout your body as muffled moans fill the room. he smiles down at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead as he bottoms out - thats the last bit of gentleness he gives you before putting his weight on you, immediately humping you like hes in heat. your eyes widen, moans growing more frequent and louder, mixing in with his low grunts and skin slapping against skin.

it takes a few moments before you let yourself relax into the brain melting fuck, but by now you should know better than to trust your boyfriend like that. a strong hand grips the back of your head, before you can even open your eyes your face is forced into his damp, unshaven armpit. you yelp, hands trying to push him off, but he just laughs once again, keeping you held there as his thrusts get firmer, knocking the breath out of you, forcing you to breathe him in.

"gonna keep ya like this 'til you learn to fucking love it.."

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Are these my hands, still? (scrubbed clean as they are?)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: hurt/comfort, angsty but happy ending always always always

warnings: we're back with the blood on hands analogy, this is vaguely and metaphorically about consent, love and redemption and finding yourself blah blah blah

a/n: me ?? posting a fic ?? new year miracle fr. I haven't written in,,, a long time. I'm getting back into it but guys I am kinda rlly fuckin unwell and couldn't rlly proofread so I HOPE you all enjoy it at least a bit <33

"Do you ever… miss it?" It's not often that your voice is quiet, but tonight Damian has to shut off the water in the bathroom sink and turn to you, cocking his head to the side as if to hear you better.

"Miss what, my love?" he asks gently, leaning his hip against the smooth, granite counter and watching as you stand at your own sink, scrubbing rather aggressively at the dried blood on your hands. It has been a messy patrol, to say the least, and the two of you are sort of thrumming from the adrenaline of it as you stand in the dull light of your bathroom.

"Just… well, I don't know," you mumble, and it's enough to make something that feels upsettingly close to worry begin to eat at Damian's heart. He's not used to you stumbling - not used to you sifting through words and searching so desperately. And he knows, with a fearful sort of vulnerability, that you're not used to it, either.

So he can't really stop himself from chasing after you, can't find it within himself to leave you drowning. Damian moves toward you slowly as you stare down at your hands and scrub, and you find it difficult to stop even when he covers your frantic movements with one large palm while he reaches his other hand to turn off the water. It had been hot, he realizes rather abruptly, and your skin is too warm to the touch, steam still rising from the white sink basin.

"My love," he says slowly, leaning down a bit with slouched shoulders so that he can crane his head enough to look at your downturned face. "Please talk to me. Please."

You pull your hands out from under his instead of speaking, and he turns his palm to face upward so that you can place your hands there, dried blood ground into the grooves and prints of your skin.

"How long has it been?" you ask dully. "Since our hands looked like this?" Our, you think, a sickening sort of nausea twisting within you. But his are clean these days, always always always.

"It… doesn't happen often," Damian says slowly, a frown tugging at his lips as he feels himself chasing after you - feels himself trying desperately to catch up with whatever's dragging you under right now. "But there's… never a last time for things like these. It's not up to us to know when we'll have to get our hands dirty again."

When you look up at him, then, your eyes are big and shining and open, staring with something that looks a bit less like love and a bit more like longing. It makes Damian's stomach twist, just a bit, and he reaches one arm to wrap around your waist and pull you into him while his other hand abandons yours to tangle into your hair and guide your face to his chest.

There's no space for longing here, he thinks. There is only love. There is only love here and it belongs to you. He hopes, a bit desperately, that the sound of his heart thumping in his chest is enough to say that - to remind you of that. When you press your face closer to him and tangle your bloodied hands into his shirt, he can't help the touch of relief that courses through him.

"I need you to tell me what's going on, beloved," he says softly, and in any other situation you might've laughed at him - might've poked fun at the fact that Damian Wayne is practically begging at your feet like a dog desperate for a bone. 

You just sigh at his words tonight, though, tipping back and away from him as you untangle his arms from around you. He lets you, notably, his hands ever gentle and pliable under your touch. But when you spin back to the sink, turning the hot water back on with a steaming hiss, he lets one large palm cover yours again. 

"Let me do it for you, please?" And there's something about the way he asks it, something about the love in his begging that makes you crumble and nod. 

"You don't have to ask, you know," you say quietly as he takes your hands gently into his own over the sink and begins to scrub ever so gently at your skin. "You don't need my permission."

"You don't belong to me," Damian points out softly, but a frown tugs at his lips once more because he thought you knew that. 

"No, I - I know that. I just mean…" You trail off, though, as you stare at your hands engulfed in his, the gentle motions of his fingers wiping the red from your hands over and over and over again. "I belong to myself, I know," you continue, ignoring the thick unfamiliarity of the sentiment. "But we… we've given ourselves to each other, right? You don't have to ask."

"It's not a formality," Damian muses in the quiet bathroom, the pale light reflecting down onto the two of you. "It's a promise. It's… a reminder, my love."

"Of what?"

"Of what you just said," he reminds you patiently, his eyes flickering up to you as you keep your own gaze locked on your intertwined hands. "You belong to yourself now. These hands are yours now, completely. You get to choose what to do with them. You get to choose what's done with them."

"Ah," you say flatly, Damian's words jarring in a familiar sort of way. None of it's new, but sometimes it slips away from you just a bit too much on nights like this.

Your hands, you realize sort of distantly, are clean again, and Damian's taken a towel to dry them with a gentleness that the two of you seem incapable of most days. He moves with a softness that feels learned rather than inherited and it makes something that feels dangerously like hope flutter through your chest.

You don't speak through the rest of it, content to stare down at your clean palms as he smoothes his fingers over your skin and throws the wet, used towel onto the counter. As your eyes flicker to track the movement, watching as it splats onto the solid granite with a dull, muffled flop, you find your gaze searching for the red that you're sure should be there. You find yourself looking for the blood that must've been scrubbed from your hands - that must've seeped into the white fabric and stained the towel into something unusable. 

"You cleaned them enough on your own, you know," Damian muses gently, smoothing a stray hair away from your face as he wedges himself between you and the counter to block your view from the towel. "You didn't really need me to do it for you."

"Didn't I?" you say haltingly. "Why did I - why did you do it, then?"

"Do you remember when we were children?" he asks in lieu of answering, a confused look scrunching over your face at his words. "The first time we really fought - the first time you cut me with your sword."

"Yes," you snap just a bit, and you find yourself balling your hands into fists so that you can't stare at your palms any longer.

"I remember it, too," Damian muses further, and you look up at him with furrowed brows while he smiles - something soft and sweet and loving beaming down toward you. "I remember feeling it."

"…What?"

"It's so human to bleed, isn't it? So human to be beaten." Your face morphs into bewilderment at his rambling, at the sweet reminiscence that passes through his voice. He takes your hands into his with a gentleness that wasn't supposed to belong to him, and as he smoothes his thumb over your knuckles you can't help but wonder if there was ever anything really wrong with your hands at all.

"Why are you bringing this up right now?" you ask quietly, and he flips your hands over in his hold so that your palms are facing up, staring back at you as you glare down at them.

"Because I was always human. I just needed you to remind me of it. Sometimes we need to be reminded, beloved. That's all." He says it simply, of course, like the words haven't ripped the ground from underneath you. But they have - and you both know it, you both feel it as you teeter on your feet.

"They don't look like my hands when they're clean like this," you offer hollowly, your voice swallowed by the dim light of the bathroom, shrouded by the love that pours from Damian as he lifts your hands to press kisses to each one of your fingertips. "These aren't my hands anymore."

"But they are, aren't they?" he says simply. "They're yours now more than ever before."

"What am I…" you falter. Damian waits - ever patient, ever solid under your touch. "What do I do with them?"

"Whatever you'd like."

"Should I…" you trail off, staring up at him first and then down to your palms again, his hands tangled with yours. "Should I do something good with them?"

"Do you want to?"

"Always," you answer quickly. "Yes, I - you know I do."

"Well, then," Damian shrugs - like loving you is easy, like knowing you is something he was born to do, "I suppose it's inevitable that you will."

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 18

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Oral (f.recieving), fingering, semi public, slightest of dirty talk.

Minors do not interract!!!

Aria

There's a 99% chance that an alien took over Chris's body in the past week. And the remaining 1% is that he's actually changing. Trying to change, at least, if we put it in a proper sense.

Getting one step closer to Chris feels like discovering a new part of him and a part of myself I buried down after my last relationship.

Blond, blue eyes, class topper and who looked like the perfect boyfriend, Luke was my ex who I met in business school during my first year. We were made for eachother, or so I thought. We dated for two years, until I walked into him having sex with my best friend on MY birthday.

What an amazing surprise. The bastard had been cheating on me since our 2nd anniversary, that betrayal felt like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find yourself trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.

I had grown distant from everyone since then, shutting myself from any relationships after that. Unable to see me suffer internally while not being myself in the outlook was why my parents asked me to get married to Chris, hoping it would make me forget everything.

The heartbreak I went through with Luke is a scar that refused to heal so fast or easily.

But I don't blame them. Some things were easier to be left than to explain and the in the end we have different perspectives of viewing the world. To their eyes settling down after business school was the solution.

Although unknown to my parents was also a certain lingering deadline between Chris and me, that I wasn't healed and still played a fake version of myself in front of others.

I was never destined for true love or a happy ending.

Our marriage was stable, predictable, and perhaps a bit too routine. I had grown accustomed to Chris's cold nature, his affection expressed in the form of providing comfort and security rather than warm embraces or whispered sweet nothings.

The security system in the mansion was tightened, Chris didn't bring up about that Victor guy again, so I didn't ask about it again. Assuming he had whatever of that under control.

But this past week, something had changed. It was in the small things—like how he would pause to ask about my day with genuine interest, or the way his fingers would linger just a bit longer when he brushed against my hand.

Or how today I'm roaming inside one of the biggest bookstores in the city, but is closed for the public because Chris wanted me to spend however long I wanted freely. He had rented the whole place for the entire day.

"Chris, this is too much," I said, turning to face him.

The soft lighting of the empty bookstore with no signs of staff but just the two of us created an intimate atmosphere, making the moment feel surreal. Chris was in a simple tee, jacket and denim trousers today, unlike his usual coat suit and dress shirt outfits, the casual attire adding to the sense that I was seeing a different side of him.

"It's not too much. I could have bought the place if you hadn't stopped me." He said smirking, giving me a view of his leathal dimple that made my stomach do a summersault.

That he would have. As COO of Aurelius, he will go beyond limits to get and do whatever he wanted.

"Well, good that you listened," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "Buying the entire bookstore might have been a bit over the top, even for you."

"I'll have you know sweetheart, I've bought things that are way more than a bookstore." A cocky eyebrow arched as he let out a deep chuckle.

"Like what?" I asked, crossing my arms joining his banter.

"The guys and I wanted to go to the Bahamas last summer but our yacht was under maintenance," He slipped his hands into his pockets, "So I bought another one."

My jaw fell unhinged, and eyes widening as I struggled to comprehend the audacity of his statement. "You...bought another yacht? Just like that?"

Chris nodded casually, his posture and expression relaxed as if discussing the purchase of a new pair of shoes.

"Yeah, it seemed like the logical solution at the time."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "Logical solution? Most people would just postpone the trip or I don't know fly there."

"Well, it seemed like a good excuse to upgrade so I figured why not?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, his smirk widening.

"Sure," I slowly nodded, "But it doesn't mean you have to go to such extremes. Like this one right now," I countered, though I couldn't help but smile at his grand gesture.

"Extremes are kind of my thing, Aria," Chris said, leaning against a bookshelf, his buff bicep against the books made my stomach do another flip.

"You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, shaking my head, running my fingers through the spines of the Lord of the Rings series.

"You're like a bull in a china shop"

"I prefer 'strategic disruptor,'" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Our eyes locked briefly for a second, then I turned away, browsing the shelves.

From Shakespeare to best selling authors today, having their own shelves of their books, the building was spacious and three floors high, giving any reader an experience of a lifetime.

There were small lounges in two corners of each floor, cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs and warm lighting, perfect for curling up with a book. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, a fragrance that always brought me comfort.

"Thank you, for this" I turned back to him as I took a random book off a shelf, Chris's eyes were already on me, watching my every move.

"You don't have to thank me for everything," Chris walked towards to me, closing the distance, "You're worth it."

I felt my cheeks flush as well as the butterflies in my stomach frantically erupt, as if closing down a store for a day was the most natural thing in the world.

His words warmed something deep inside me, a place I had thought long frozen. The old Aria, the one who believed in grand gestures and romantic surprises, stirred within me. But I had to remind myself to be cautious; just a week of change could not erase the last months of indifference.

But we'll never know.

As we walked shelf after shelf, an exclusive copy of one my favourite books caught my eyes. I immediately went and took it in my hands, the cover of the book held me captive in my spot.

The title was embossed in gold, glistening under the lights. The rich, deep red background was adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and foliage, intertwining with dragons that seemed almost alive. Each petal and leaf was meticulously detailed, their colors vibrant against the dark, quilted texture behind them.

"Hmm?" Chris came behind me, he was carrying two baskets that were full of the newest thrillers and romance. I kind of felt bad for making him trail after me like a pack mule.

"This is the last one I promise. It's a special edition" I showed him the book, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

Chris glanced at the cover, his expression remaining stoic but with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "A special edition? Looks like I'm not the only one around here with expensive tastes."

I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. "Well, this is worth it. Look at the detail. It's a piece of art."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," He brought the basket up and I placed the book on the top of the stack, a wide smile spread across my face that refused to go away.

"Is this all you want? You're free to get as many as you like Aria. This whole place is yours." He said genuinely, his tone matter-of-fact. I shook my head, still smiling, a warm feeling spreading across my chest.

"As a slow reader these are going to keep me alive for a year or even more. They are enough."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "If you say so"

For a moment, I felt a rare connection with him. It wasn't about grand emotions or declarations; it was about this simple, shared experience. Chris might not be the most emotionally expressive person, but in his own way, he was trying.

And that effort meant more to me than any expensive gift ever could.

"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "This really means a lot."

"Well, I hope you have a good place to put all these," he replied, a touch of sarcasm returning to his voice.

"Because my study is not turning into a library."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry, I have it covered."

After I got all the books I wanted, we made our way from the section and instead of going to the counter on the ground floor, Chris stopped walking and placed the baskets on a table, turning to me with a mischievous smirk spread playing on his lips.

I froze in my place, feeling my pulse race as he slowly strode towards me like a majestic wolf, his eyes on me. The way he moved, so confident and purposeful, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the tremor in my voice.

Chris stopped just inches from me, his gaze intense. "Just thought we could take a moment to enjoy this place properly. No rush, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop me. "No rush," I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "Good...because,"

Before he finished, he lifted my chin and his mouth met mine, burying his tongue while his hand traced my cheek then sank in my hair. My fingers pressed on his arms as I melted into his taste of mint and sugar, it was an addiction.

I preferred vanilla and cinnamon but I suppose the taste of Chris is much better.

He pulled me closer to him, we were pressed against eachother and there, I felt him growing hard, excitement and anticipation rushed through my body. Chris's hand gently closed behind my neck as he deepend the kiss, slowly slowly striding and having me pressed against a shelf.

I opened my eyes and looked above him, ironically we were under the romance section. Chris removed his mouth from mine, his hand still around my neck, while his other hand went to the hem of my skirt, tracing the line.

"Because what?" I pulled back, arching a brow as I challenged him, my voice breathless yet defiant.

"Because," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to make sure you have the best time."

His fingers slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the firmness of his grip on my neck, made my heart race. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate and electrifying.

"Chris..." I whispered, my resolve wavering as his hand inched higher, the thrill of being in such a public, yet intimate setting and the chance someone might walk in on us only heightened the sensations coursing through me.

"Shh," he hushed me softly, his lips brushing against my earlobe, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"No rush, remember?"

His words echoed in my mind, the promise of slow, tantalizing pleasure as his hand reached the edge of my panties. I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his touch, leaving fire in their wake.

Chris's lips found mine again, more demanding this time. I could feel his desire, his need, and it mirrored my own. Our kiss deepened, becoming a battle of wills and passion, his hand tightened around my neck, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left me breathless.

With a smooth glid, he slid my panties to the side and a finger found its way through my wet folds. I jerked as he inserted another, a knowing smirk spread across his face looking at how easily and quickly wet and turned on I get.

Paced pumps, breathless kisses and pinned among the shelves of love stories and whispered promises, only added a layer of forbidden excitement to our encounter. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making a soft moan gasp free out of me.

"Mmm... you're clenching me babydoll."

My lips parted, I wanted to say things but nothing came out at how good his fingers curled inside of me, my blood was on liquid fire. The only sensations were pleasure, want and pure need.

Time lost its meaning along with my senses, Chris had pushed my top up, his mouth was closed around my sensitive nipple and his digits pushed deeper inside me. He was licking, sucking, teasing, stretching and playing with me tearing moans, and cries from my throat.

He then sank onto his knees, parting my legs, circling my sensitized clit with the tip of his tongue. His chin grazed my skin as he kissed the nub, his breath fanning over me and burying his face in my heat, drawing my clit into his mouth and sucked.

"Oh my...oh my God..."

I instantly arched against the shelf, the books shook threatening to fall but thankfully they were pushed to the back. My hand went over my face to cover my squeals and whimpers escaping and echoing off the quiet walls, I felt his eyes watch me from beneath me.

Every thought was erased away from my brain as pleasure fogged like a mirror after a hot shower.

My hand fisted his hair as his teeth grazed over my swollen, tender clit, going from slow and languid licks, lapping away my arousal like a man possessed. My hips bucked, seeking for relief but Chris's strong fingers held me in place.

Chris had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was seeing stars during the day, even when we were under a roof. His hands and mouth worked magic on me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and craving more.

The tingles of an orgasm began to build deep within me as he expertly moved his tongue over my clit, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. If I tried, I would surely implode.

The pressure finally erupted as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, making my body shudder uncontrollably. My thighs trembled as I came, my arousal dripping down my legs and onto his face. 

But Chris wasn't done with me yet. Not by a long shot. One moment I was arching against the shelf praying for the books not to fall on us as he tongue fucked me, the next I was on my back, pinned on the floor.

He switched positions just like that.

"You have quite an interesting taste in literature sweetheart," Chris murmured into my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His words were teasing, but they carried a dark edge that made my pulse quicken. As he spoke, he pushed my skirt up, a cool air hitting my exposed and vulnerable self.

"Wha—what?" I stammered, my own voice sounded different to my ears. "Did you read—" Heat flushed up my cheeks when I realised he must have flipped through one of the romance books from the stack.

Oh God.

"I might have read a page or two," he admitted, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and full of intent. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a simple gesture that made my core throb with renewed need.

"And I thought, why not create our own scene?"

Before I could even form a response, Chris's mouth crashed down on mine in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. It was as if he was punishing me for the guilty pleasure of my reading material, but also claiming his approval in the most primal way possible.

He held my hips with a bruising force, I dimly heard the rasp of the zipper and then he hammered inside me in one powerful thrust. The sudden invasion made me gasp out, the sharp sound echoing softly in the confined space.

My nails dug into the carpet as I clung to him, one hand gripping his stiff bicep. God, I could never get used to the feel of him inside me.

So hot, so huge, so impossibly hard.

Every time he entered me, it felt like the first time, my body straining to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, making my head spin and my body tremble.

A strong hand came over my mouth to silence my embarrassing moans, my eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris's intense gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched in a knowing smug smirk as he continued thrusting into me with relentless precision.

"Shh," he chuckled as he continued wrecking me. "You don't want someone to hear how much you love being fucked in your little haven, now do you?"

The fact that someone actually could walk in on us was disastrous but there was no time to process anything other than the feel and the heat of him against me, flesh against flesh as he shattered me apart, the pressure and pleasure was beyond ecstacy. 

The telltale tingles built inside me again, threatening to spill over as he took me apart piece by piece.

"Your pussy is made for me sweetheart. Fuck you're so tight." He growled,his voice thick with lust as he watched me writhe beneath him.

My body responded to his every word, my muscles clenching around his cock as the nerves in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. My heart pounded frantically against my ribcage, and I could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

I hadn't imagined Chris would surprise me with a whole day at a bookstore when he proposed we go out. And I definitely hadn't imagined we'd end up like this—fucking in the romance section, surrounded by books, with nothing but the tall shelves to seclude us from reality.

"God, Chris..." I gasped, my voice breaking as I felt the pressure reach its peak.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it baby," He groaned or chuckled. I couldn't say.

I was too lost in my world of lust, I forgot my own name. Everything else faded away until all that existed was the feel of him inside me, driving me to madness.

Tears leaked out of my eyes at the sensation, fingers clawing and mouth falling open in a reckless cries. Thrust after thrust, another toe-curling orgasm gushed through me like fire rushing and igniting in a pool of gasoline, bursting stars behind my eyes.

I fell into a boneless mess. 

Chris groaned and I felt his cock twitching uncontrollably as a hot load of cum gathered inside me. He slowed his movements, his breath coming in heavy pants as he rode out the last of his own release.

He leaned down, softly brushing his lips against mine, and I could feel the smile that lingered there—a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

We hung there, breathless and tangled together, the aftershocks of my climax still rippling through me. My mind was still swimming in the aftermath, trying to process the sheer intensity of what had just happened, when I felt Chris begin to move.

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle as he got up, adjusting his clothes with a nonchalant ease. With just one casual swipe of his hand through his hair, he looked completely composed—flawless, even—as if he hadn't just fucked me into another dimension.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. My legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold me up as I struggled to regain my balance. Every nerve in my body was still buzzing, my core pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. I most definitely won't be able to walk tomorrow or probably right now.

My breath hitched lightly when I felt him clean me up with a tissue. A tender gesture that made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

Chris helped me get up and fixed my clothes, smoothing down my hair. His fingers brushed lightly over my tear-stained cheeks, lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the feel of my skin. The silence between us spoke volumes. 

Chris wasn't one to use words carelessly, and in moments like this, his actions said more than any words ever could. I clung to him, still trying to find my footing, both physically and emotionally.

His eyes were on me, those burning brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me, and even though he didn't say a word, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

We've had sex countless times by now, but every time it feels different—more intense, more profound. But this time, this was something else entirely. It was as if he had pushed me beyond my limits, only to pull me back again, leaving me reeling from the sheer force of it.

This was, hands down, the best one yet, and I could feel it in every aching muscle and every rapid heartbeat.

My eyes drifted down to the damp stain on the green carpet, a vivid reminder of just how lost I had been in the throes of pleasure. Embarrassment flooded me, my face flushing hot as I imagined the poor soul who would have to clean up after us.

I glared up at Chris, half-expecting him to share in my mortification, but instead, he just smirked, his expression completely unapologetic, not giving a flying fuck.

"Let's get your books home." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking the book baskets from the table and walking me to towards the elevator to get to the ground floor.

I couldn't process how he went from fucking me on the floor like it was the last day on the planet to smiling casually as if he had been doing nothing but accompany me with my shopping spree.

Once we made it to the ground floor, Chris placed the baskets on the counter and the woman behind started scanning the books. He payed for them and I saw him leave a huge tip to the staff, again my face flushed crimson.

A young boy brought the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk, after settling in, we made our home.

"Enjoyed your day?" Chris's eyes were fixed on the road, but I knew he meant more than just the shopping.

"Every moment of it." I looked at him, those silver hoop earrings glinted in the daylight, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Chris's eyes fell on me for a second, he nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

As we drove through the city streets, Chris's hand gently slipped with mine, the comfortable silence between us spoke volumes. The day had been filled with more than just books, it had been a day of connection, of tentative steps towards understanding each other better.

When we arrived to the mansion, Chris carried the bags inside, placing them on the living room coffee table. I followed him, feeling a sense of contentment that had been absent for so long.

He turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I instinctively leaned into his palm, savoring the rare moment of tenderness.

"I don't want to leave, but um..." His words trailed off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but I knew what he was going to say next.

My heart sank just a little bit.

"Go on," I said, his expression softed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "I'm gonna spend the all the time reading while you're at work."

I played a soft smile, knowing he had to go back to his responsibilities. Chris sighed, his thumb gently grazing my cheek.

"I'll try to be back soon." He said softly, a rare hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I know," my smile widened just a bit.

"Alright," He pulled me to another bruising kiss, breathing me in as he bit my bottom lip. "I'll see you later."

As he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was the usual frustration of him having to rush off, but also a newfound appreciation for the tiny effort he was making to connect with me.

I watched him drive away, the mansion fell into a deep silence again as I went back inside and picked up the special edition book that had caught my eye earlier.

Running my fingers over the intricate cover, I felt a surge of gratitude for this day and for Chris's efforts to make it memorable.

I opened the book, ready to lose myself in its pages, knowing that Chris and I were slowly finding our way to each other, one small step at a time.

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

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123 @mrs-hwangh @greyyeti @sociallyawkward18 @stephanieeeyang @piscesrising01 @jaquisos @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @princess-sunshyn @my-neurodivergent-world @ladyeagle @nchhuhi

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[angelicchris]

at your worst | chris sturniolo

in which ₊˚ the happiest triplet is the one who’s quietly struggling.

˖⋆࿐໋ for all my lovelies who find themselves having to play a happy role for others, while they’re actually at their lowest (me too ᡣ𐭩)

honourable mention ⊹ ‧₊˚ for all my glass children

word count ₊˚ 883

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chris found himself laying awake at night, staring at his ceiling, with some random background music playing on his tv. he had initially tried to listen to his favourite artists—skies, travis, mac— to try to find it in himself to be happy, but he just couldn’t. normally music was his go-to for feeling better, or a hug from one of his brothers, but chris felt as if he would be burdening them if they found out what was really, truly happening inside his head.

his entire life, chris was the triplet who was the happiest. he was the one always smiling, always cracking jokes to try and bring others up if they were feeling low. this fact was something even his fans picked up on, noting how chris was the triplet who had changed the least throughout their growing fame, and was usually the one always joking around with his brothers in their videos. unbeknownst to chris, this role he established—both within his family and fans—had taken a toll on him, and lead to a lack of expressing his feelings, unless they were positive.

still staring at the ceiling and the intricate cracks of white paint that ran along it, chris felt a tear roll down the side of his right eye, landing on his pillow. he reached up and wiped his eye, wishing, hoping that he could fix whatever was wrong with him and his mind. he considered talking to one of his brothers about his sadness, but they both have their own lives and their own problems. chris hated to say it, but matt was the one who openly struggled with mental health the most in their family, and chris knew that he would feel guilty taking any attention away from matt and his struggles. he thought, deep down, that if he told matt, maybe he’d understand what he’s feeling, but, does chris even know what he’s feeling? having enough of this, chris sits up, turning off his tv, and leaves the comfort of his room, finding himself walking up the stairs to their kitchen table. chris looks around—he notices an empty can of pepsi he left on the counter from earlier, nick’s headphones lying on the table, a half-completed lego poinsettia set that matt had been working on—and, he’s unsure why, but seeing this causes more tears to well in his eyes. his brothers, who were a constant variable in his life, yet who he felt as if he was letting down. “i can’t do this,” chris said, rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes, hard. “i can’t, i can’t,” he continued to cry. having to act like there was nothing burdening his mind—in front of both his brothers and his fans—was finally catching up to him. chris wasn’t even sure what was causing this sadness within him. he had everything he could have ever wished for—a loving family, loving friends, a roof over his head—so, for the love of God, why was he feeling like this?

chris’ continuous sobs from the kitchen were enough to draw the attention of his older brother, matt. rubbing his eyes, confused, having been awoken from his unconscious state, matt checks the time on his phone. 4:36 a.m. he knew him and his brothers had a fucked up sleep schedule, but this was different. removing himself from the comfort of his blanket, his stuffed pug falling precariously onto the floor, matt makes his way into the hallway. as he nears the kitchen, he hears the sobs becoming louder and louder—the sobs of his younger brother, chris.

“chris?” matt says cautiously. chris looks abruptly over his shoulder at the voice, caught off guard. “oh,” he says, wiping his eyes and cheeks as quickly as he can. “hey matt,” chris sniffles a little, but tries to act as if nothing had just happened. “why are you up?” chris asks his brother. “i was about to ask you the same thing..” says matt, confused. “couldn’t sleep,” replies chris, staring straight ahead at a wall. “were you.. crying?” unsure of how to reply, chris pauses for a moment, then musters up a fake, boneless laugh. “i don’t cry,” states chris, jokingly or not, matt couldn’t tell. “chris, what’s wrong?” “God matt, nothing’s wrong, can’t you just knock it off?” chris, who was always the one asking him if he was okay, the one always making him smile, offering him a hug, was now sitting alone at their table, using his own arms as a shield, a tight embrace around his own fragile state. matt pauses for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his brother’s newfound behaviour, before deciding on the truth. “i heard you crying while i was sleeping.” what matt hadn’t expected, however, was for this revelation to trigger something within chris. “i said i’m fine, why can’t you just learn to mind your own business for once in your goddamn life, matt? geez.” chris abruptly pushes up from his spot at the table, making his way over to the stairs leading to his room, matt quickly following his brother’s strides. “chris, please..” matt pleads, not exactly sure what for. before he could receive a response, he’s greeted with a door slamming in his face, the rusty turn of a lock following suit.

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my oh my, my first fanfic ᡣ𐭩.

i honestly thought about the plot of this in my sleep, and i woke up and just kinda wrote about it.

i’m not too sure how i like this, i kinda cringed at my own writing, esp when chris & matt were talking w one another. ik i’m gonna cringe at this when i look back in a few years and see how much my writing has (hopefully) progressed, and, honestly, i can’t wait ᡣ𐭩

i’m interested to know if any of you are actually interested in writings like this, where there’s no female character/interest. ik most fanfics on here are kind of centered around romance involving the triplets, so i thought i would try something a little different that explored their relationships w one another (i didn’t forget nick, i promise)

to everyone who made it to the end, thank you so much, it means the world to me ᡣ𐭩. if u couldn’t bring yourself to read the whole thing, thank you for still taking a chance on my writing and i ᡣ𐭩

all my love x

[ariasakka]

Flames of Fate

Most of you followed me from my Viktor arcane smut…I have a feeling you won’t be interested in my Enji works so please just pretend you don’t see these ones thank you 😊

Your Fuyumi’s new work best friend you go to her house one night to drink and talk boys that’s when you meet her dad…

Female reader, age gap, daddy kink, size difference, smut with plot, fluff, etc

MDNI

Yeah so for some reason my Enji obsession always gets so bad when I’m ovulating…I had to give in and write Enji again for my own guilty pleasure. Hope you like the fic!

Fuyumi is 25, Enji is 45, you are around the same as as them in this story. (In my head y/n is 23-25 but you can make the reader whatever age you wish)

Song I was thinking of while writing “guys my age” by hey Violet

Fuyumi work’s at a hero day care. It’s nothing too special but it pays really good and it’s secure. Her dad gave her a good recommendation so she knows for sure they’d never dare fire Endeavor’s daughter.

She’s been working there since she was 20. Fuyumi went to college for about a year then dropped out. Enji didn’t mind as long as she was able to find a good job which she did. She hasn’t been able to make friends at day care because most of the women working there are far older and have little to nothing in common other than good cooking skills. That was until you started working there a few months ago.

Fuyumi was so happy to have someone close to her age working there with her! You are a bit shy so it took a few months for you guys to start being close. Finally you both got close enough for her to ask you over for drinks.

Fuyumi wanted to talk boy problems. She didn’t have anyone to vent to about stuff like this. She definitely couldn’t talk to her brothers about this sort of thing. You honestly found it amusing you had always thought Fuyumi was the innocent type you were eager to learn more about her.

Fuyumi had picked you up from your apartment to bring you over to her house.

When she had parked outside a massive house you were confused. You didn’t know she was Endeavors daughter. She doesn’t ever talk about her family aside from her brothers. You had thought she lived alone. You felt a little underdressed now. You were wearing a black fitted long sleeve shirt with a long skirt, still a nice choice but still.

You “Hey um, this is where you live?”

Fuyumi “Yeah! Sorry I forgot to mention. I still live with my brothers and dad! Though my brothers all live in school dorms so mostly just my dad.”

You “No worries. I now feel a bit underdressed for such a nice house haha”

Fuyumi “Don’t worry about it, you always look great y/n! If anything you always make me feel underdressed at work with all your natural beauty. Well here we are! Do you have any drink preferences?”

You “Nothing too strong I can’t handle alcohol that well.”

You both walk into the house. It’s absolutely beautiful and spotless. You wonder if her father hires a cleaner or if Fuyumi does this all herself. She leads you to the living room, it’s almost the size of your apartment. You can imagine she must get lonely being in such a big house all the time with her brothers at school.

Fuyumi comes back with a few bottles of wine and some glasses.

Fuyumi “Stealing some of my dad’s fancy wine tonight. But don’t worry he won’t mind. It’ll be just us for a while dad doesn’t get back till late.”

You smirk while pouring a glass “So…what are these so called boy problems you were so eager to tell me about mm?”

You both spend a few hours chatting about boys. Turns out Fuyumi had been sleeping with two men at the same time. They found out and now she doesn’t know who to choose. She’s considering being polygamous with them. So unexpected but you figure she needs some excitement in her life. After all working at a daycare isn’t really all that exciting even if they do all have quirks.

Endeavor had arrived back home from work earlier than his daughter expected. It’s around 7 she wasn’t expecting him till 10 especially since it’s a Friday. Fuyumi was laughing so loudly talking about the sex she had last night neither one of you heard Endeavor come in. He knew when his daughter was laughing so loudly she had to be drinking again. Enji knew whenever she drank she forgot to eat he wouldn’t let her go to bed on an empty stomach. Trying his best to Ignore the topic she was talking about he walked up to the living room and knocked gently on the already half open sliding door.

Enji teases “Fuyumi are you stealing my wine again?”

Fuyumi “Oh my god dad! I- I thought you’d be home later.”

Enji “Oh, hello, I am Fuyumi’s father. Sorry I didn’t know anyone else was here. I’m Mister Todoroki. Have either of you girls eaten? If not I’ll order something. What do you both want?”

As soon as he walks through the door you lock eyes with him. He’s the largest man you’ve ever seen. He looked so sexy and intimidating at the same time. Then when he opened his mouth, oh my god. You’d never known someone could speak that low. His voice had too big of an effect on you. You had to gently press your legs together hoping no one would notice since the table was in the way. You shouldn’t be thinking this way about your best friend’s father. She’d probably hate you if she found out. It’s even worse that both of you hadn’t broken eye contact since he walked in. You were desperately waiting for Fuyumi to answer. The only thing you wanted to eat right now was her dad.

Fuyumi “No not yet, Chinese takeout is good. Is that okay for you y/n?”

You smile and nod at Enji “Yes thats fine. Thank you sir.” before turning your gaze back to Fuyumi.

You were the first thing Enji noticed when he came in the living room. You were striking. He knew Fuyumi had mentioned making a new friend at work but he never thought she would be this breathtaking. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were smaller than most women. A little smaller than Fuyumi who was also already small. He wanted you to look up at him like that forever. Enji was going to call to get a pickup order but instead heads right out to get it himself. He needs time to wash those thoughts out of his head. It didn’t help the whole time he was gone he thought about how beautiful your hair looked. How cute your flushed face was when you weren’t expecting anyone to come home. He figured he just needed to get fucked. Though it hadn’t been that long since he had a one night stand. Something about you was different, more intriguing. It didn’t help that he knew he probably wouldn’t think anything was more beautiful than you. He shouldn’t be thinking about his daughters only friend like this.

As soon as Enji left the awkward tension left and the two of you got back to chatting as if he was never there.

Fuyumi “I’m sorry i should’ve told you who my dad was! I didn’t think he’d be home at all he usually works really late Fridays. I didn’t want you to just be my friend because of my dad a lot of girls in college used to talk to me only because of him.”

Oh, you hadn’t even realized it was Endeavor for a few minutes the only thing you could think about was how attractive that man was. He looked so different out of his Hero costume.

You “I guess it explains the house haha. It’s alright Fuyumi don’t feel bad for not telling me. I get it, I do. When I was younger both of my parents were drunks. They left me to fend for myself. I had to live out of random guys houses until I had enough money for my own rent. I never told anyone that because I knew they wouldn’t want to be my friend. They’d think I was too troubled. Some people found out in highschool and well let’s just say that’s the reason you’re my only friend right now.”

Fuyumi “I would never judge you for that. I’m glad we both know eachother better now. You could probably already tell but you’re my only friend too. I was so happy when you started working at the daycare!”

Fuyumi “So tell me about your boy life now, I’ve basically told you all of mine. It’s only fair y/n”

You “Well about those “guys” I used to live with in highschool. I guess those were sort of relationships if you want to call it that. I didn’t have any money so they asked me to sleep with them to “make up for it” I didn’t really enjoy it. None of them could make me cum but it was fine at least I had a roof over my head. Thank god for this job now. Pays for a decent apartment.”

Fuyumi had no idea why you lived in such a small apartment with your job. It was the size of her bedroom. Granted her bedroom was bigger than average and due to her dad being Endeavor she gets payed more than everyone else but she doesn’t know that.

Fuyumi “Very glad you have an apartment now. Were there better guys after that?”

You “Well I dated two guys after that who were our age. The first one, horrible in bed, and had such a major cheating problem. Fuck that many girls and you still don’t know how to make one finish? Funny because he was the one that left actually. The second guy was so sweet. I tried to like him I really did. I figured if I was with someone nice then I’d actually be treated well and able to finish for once. No luck there. He was so boring he couldn’t even make me laugh once. I felt bad because I knew he was a good person but after two years I just had to end it. I thought the relationship would get better as it aged but I only grew more tired. Recently I started talking to someone new. We aren’t dating yet. Still the talking stages. He can’t seem to remember a single thing about me though. He even called me the wrong name last night. But I’m bored so I guess I’ll date him. It’s not like there’s any other better men out there right now for me. Maybe he can be useful and go down on me. Speaking of, why are so many men so scared to do that nowadays as if they don’t shove themselves down our mouths not caring if we like it? So annoying!”

Fuyumi smirks “Can’t finish? I can give you some toys later to help with that. Maybe plastic can treat you better than a man.”

You “Fuyumi!”

You both laugh so loud after that. Both of you even more drunk now and unaware that Enji had been back to hear that conversation. He shouldn’t have been listening but he couldn’t help it. You seemed so sweet with the way Fuyumi always talks about you. You’re drop dead gorgeous too he couldn’t believe you’ve had such bad luck with men. Before he waits too long that someone awkwardly sees him he makes his way to the living room. He walks a little heavier so you both can hear him.

Enji “Hi girls. Here’s your food. Don’t drink too much you’ll make yourselfs sick.”

You were so embarrassed hoping he didn’t hear any of the conversation. Fuyumi was too drunk to care she started filling her face with the food immediately.

You “Thank you so much Mister Todoroki sir, you didn’t have to. I really appreciate the food.”

Enji “You’re welcome y/n, I hope you like the food.” He points to Fuyumi “Did she drink too much?”

You chuckle “Yeah i think a little.”

Fuck her laugh is cute

Why is he looking at me like that did I do something?

Enji “I’ll leave both of you be, I’ll be in my office if you need something.”

I hope I didn’t stare too long I don’t want her thinking Fuyumi’s dad is a creep.

A little while after eating it’s midnight now. Fuyumi was supposed to drive you home but she’s passed out on the couch now. You loudly stumble your way all to the front door. You’re going to call a late night cab once you’re outside. Enji hears the noise of your heels walking about. Right before you can open the front door you feel a strong heat radiating behind you and feel a hard push on the door. Oh fuck. Endeavor is standing behind me isn’t he. You look up and see his hand pressed against the door. You turn around to look up at his face. “I was going to call a cab sir-“

Enji “It’s far too late and you’re far too drunk to go home. We have spare rooms. I’ll make you a bed. Don’t try to argue I won’t take no for an answer. I know Fuyumi will be happy to talk more with you in the morning. Now let me show you to your room.”

Was he always this hot when he was stern? All you can do is nod and follow him. Just as you thought the house couldn’t get any bigger the upstairs was even more beautiful. There were so many rooms you wondered what they were all for. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you were telling Fuyumi about men. He should be more nervous to say anything but he feels like he has to.

Enji “I know it’s not my place but I overheard a little. A nice respectable young woman like you should not settle for awful men. You should drop that fool who can’t remember simple things about you. Y/n you can find much better.”

You “oh- I um. Thanks I will.”

You had just met did he really think that highly of you?

Enji “Here’s the bathroom. Please brush your teeth while I bring you something to wear to sleep.”

He would’ve got something of Fuyumi’s for you to wear but he wasn’t sure what clothes she was okay having borrowed. He got one of his sons old sweatshirts and instead.

Enji “Here’s a sweatshirt it should be comfortable enough for tonight.”

Without thinking you start to undress infront of him to put the sweatshirt on. He should really look away but you don’t seem to notice. You’re too drunk to care. He can’t bring himself to look away anyways. Your breasts look so soft. He could fit both of them in one hand. You’re even shorter without your heels on. And the sweatshirt, oh god. The sweatshirt goes down long enough that he can’t see anything more as you undo your skirt from under the sweatshirt.

You looked so small in it. It came above your knees. He wants to see what you look like in one of his shirts next. Maybe next time you sleep over he can lend you one of his.

Enji “I’ll wash your clothes tomorrow morning. I brought some of Fuyumi’s makeup remover too-“

You wine in protest “Ew no! I don’t want you to see me without makeup you already are seeing me drunk!”

Enji “Come on, don’t be bad. It’s not good to sleep in your makeup.”

The way he said that so sternly yet so calm is making you feel more wet than you want to admit. You immediately submit and grab the makeup wipes away from him to wipe off the makeup yourself. As you do you are a bit wobbly standing up, you feel so dizzy. Your reflection in the mirror is fuzzy from a mix of wine, makeup in your eyes, and tiredness.

Enji sits down and pats his lap. “Here let me. You’re too drunk. I’ll help you.”

You sit in his lap. He immediately praises you with a “good girl” thinking nothing of it. His touch was so warm. If only he knew what he was doing to you.

You’re soft, so small in his lap. Much smaller than his ex wife ever was. Fuck the thought of splitting your little cunt open on his cock..no wait why is he still thinking that. He can’t think that. Not about his daughter’s friend. Why did Fuyumi have to make friends with someone so tempting?!

Enji helps take off your makeup as you sit in his lap. The way he wipes it off so soft despite being so strong was surprising. It was nice. Maybe he’s helped Fuyumi with her makeup when she’s been drunk before or maybe..a wife? Fuyumi didn’t mention a mom, does she have a mom? Oh no if you’re feeling this way about your best friend’s dad AND a married man that’s awful.

Enji finishes removing your makeup. Fuck, I really didn’t think someone could be more beautiful without makeup he thinks to himself.

“You’re just as beautiful without makeup. Now, don’t drink as much next time please. It’s bad for your health.”

He gently brushes your messy hair with his fingers after setting the makeup wipes aside. You’re too far gone and sleepy to have any more self control over your words. You drunkly say “Why didn’t Fuyumi ever tell me her dad was so hot?”

Before he can even say anything like he would anyways he’s too stunned to speak, you fall asleep in his chest. He gently lifts you up and lays you down on the spare bed. He places some blankets over you so you won’t fall cold. He stays there for a moment watching you sleep. He questions your words. Could she really find me attractive? An old man like me, I’m a pro hero yes but women only ever want me for my wealth not my looks? Maybe if I touch myself tonight thinking of her I’ll get over it. She’s probably just drunk. Yeah that’s it, she’s just drunk. She won’t even remember it tomorrow. It definitely didn’t mean anything.

When he goes to his room he’s already hard. He touches himself to the thought of you. Little did he know it would only make him want you more.

When you wake up you shower before putting on the sweatshirt again. You go downstairs to see if Fuyumi is awake yet. When you go down stairs you instantly lock eyes with Enji in the kitchen. He’s sitting down drinking coffee. Somehow he seems hotter than last night. His hair is slightly damp from a shower you want to run your fingers through it. You don’t remember anything from last night after he started to take your makeup off.

Enji “Good morning. I heard you showering and made you some coffee. Fuyumi just got in the shower she should be out shortly with some spare clothes. Your clothes are outside hanging to dry.”

You take a sip of the coffee. Your head is aching. “Thank you Mister Todoroki and thank you again for letting me stay the night.”

You expected he would have Fuyumi wash your clothes. You think it’s sweet he took the time to do that. You wonder why she never talks about her dad when he’s such a gentlemen.

Fuyumi lended you some clothes to wear shortly after. You’re a different bra size than her so that was the only thing you couldn’t share of hers. Unfortunately for Enji he would be able to see your hard nipples perfectly in that tight sweater. The second he saw them he nearly choked on his coffee. You were too nervous to look at his face much with worry you’d get too obviously flustered so you didn’t notice much his gazes. Anytime you did notice you just assumed he was observing you and Fuyumi talking like any dad would. Fuyumi on the other hand noticed exactly what her father was choking at. She assumed it was just because he was more old fashioned. After all he did always used to make Rei dress proper when they were still together. She didn’t want to embarrass you by explaining to her dad why you were without a bra especially since you didn’t seem to notice he was looking so she decided to change the subject.

Fuyumi “Um dad. Have you eaten yet? I was going to start breakfest what would you like?”

Enji “You can make whatever you wish. I have some work to do so please put it in the refrigerator. Thank you Fuyumi.”

He quickly gets up and rushes off to his office locking the door behind him. He was suppressing himself from getting hard just long enough until he left the kitchen. Why were you having this effect on him? He’s not a teenager anymore. Once again he touches himself to the thought of you. It would be so fun to fuck you on his office table. Or even have you soaking on his cock while he’s working.

While Enji is away Fuyumi takes this opportunity to give you the sex toys she mentioned last night before making breakfast.

Fuyumi giggles “While dad’s gone come up to my room let me give you some things.”

You “Oh god girl why do you have so many?”

Fuyumi “Some guys I slept with before bought me some but since i already had so many I figured you could use the ones I haven’t opened. Can’t let them go to waste. Here I’ll give you a bag to hide it in so dad doesn’t see. Have you really never used them before?”

You “No but I guess it doesn’t hurt to try. Most guys got insecure anytime I even suggested them.”

You knew exactly what you were going to think about next time you used them. Maybe once you came to Mister Todoroki you’d stop thinking about him so foully and could get under someone else.

While the two of you are eating together Fuyumi says “So what did you think of my dad I know he can be a little intimidating.”

You “Well at first i thought he looked a little scary but I think he’s sweet actually. He helped me take my makeup off last night.”

Fuyumi “Oh good! I was worried you’d get scared and never come over again.”

You “Fuyumi definitely not even if he was awful you’re still my only friend and I’d still find a way to hangout with you.”

A bit later Enji walks up to the both of you. “Whenever you’re ready to go home y/n I can drive you.”

Fuyumi “Dad I-“

Enji teases “Don’t let Fuyumi drive you home when she’s hungover she’d end up driving you to a random house or getting my car crashed.”

Fuyumi “Finee dad. Well are you ready to go home then? I can text you a few dates I was thinking we could hang out next.”

You “Okay yeah, that’s great thanks.”

Enji walks away for a moment bringing back a coat. He gently places it over you. “Alright let’s go y/n. I’ll hold your bag.” It’s one of his coats he definitely did that to see how small you’d be in something of his. It did not disappoint.

You were expecting Fuyumi to come with you even though she wasn’t going to be driving. To your surprise she stayed perfectly still enjoying whatever she was looking at on her phone. She hadn’t thought about going with you not after you told her you thought her dad was sweet. You’re just hoping more alone time with her dad can help you find one ick about him. So you can stop thinking about your best friend’s father like this.

Unfortunately the more time you spend alone with him the more charming he gets. First he asked your music preferences for the ride back. Then when he saw how small your apartment was he told you a job at his agency was always welcome. Not just so he could see you more but also so his daughter’s friend could have a good life. He knows how caring she can be about people close to her for better or for worse. Then when he saw nearly all your light bulbs were either flickering or out in your apartment he changed them all without being asked. The second he left you immediately headed straight for the sex toys. How the hell was just thinking of him getting you off more than being with an actual man. You’re definitely cutting off that new guy you’re talking too, thinking about Fuyumi’s dad having his way with you is much better.

Enji comes back from driving you home.

Fuyumi “Heyy dad y/n called you sweet. Thanks for taking care of her last night. She’s my first friend I’ve had in a while. Most of my friends were usually scared of you. I’m glad she isn’t. She’ll definitely be coming over more.”

Oh she thinks I’m sweet? Could she be thinking about me too? No. No, definitely not. She’s just being a kind young lady.

Enji “All your old friends thought I was scary?”

Fuyumi “I- oh um- sorry! It’s just, you can be intimidating but I’m not saying it’s a bad thing it’s just-“

Enji “It’s alright I’d rather them not think I’m too inviting. I don’t want people all over me like they are with Toshinori. I’m glad you have a good friend now. Although I didn’t realize that job pays most of their employees so poorly her apartment is quite small.”

Fuyumi “Is it? I haven’t been yet but she’s told me about it. My pay is good…wait..that’s not because of you is it?”

Enji “I’m sorry I-“

Fuyumi “it’s fine, thank you dad.”

Fuyumi looks over at the clothing rack “Oh are those her clothes? Are they dry yet? I’ll text her to come get them tomorrow. You could’ve asked me to wash them”

Enji “It’s alright I didn’t mind.”

Mainly because he wanted to use your panties last night. Sucking on them while he got himself off. He could wash away any evidence of his own saliva on them himself. No one would know, no one would get hurt.

Tomorrow you come over to get your clothes. You’re expecting Fuyumi but Enji answers the door.

You “Oh hi Mister Todoroki, where’s Fuyumi?”Enji “She’s out getting groceries for this week she won’t be back for a couple more hours.”

You “Oh alright. I brought Fuyumi her clothes back too.”

She just loved leaving the two of you alone didn’t she. It’s so awkward being alone after you practically came to the thought of him last night. Maybe you should’ve told her you were scared of him. His bright blue eyes nearly blind you everytime you look at them. It doesn’t help that looking at the rest of him also makes you flustered as well too.

Enji “Your clothes are laying on the bed in the spare room upstairs. Fuyumi also left out a few clothes she didn’t want anymore on the bed too. I can discard whatever you don’t want.”

You follow him upstairs to the spare room. He stands behind you giving you space to look over the clothes.

You “Thank you again for washing my clothes Mister Todoroki.”

You bend over on the bed to fold your clothes, your skirt rides up a bit. Your thong is showing. Enji was going to do the right thing and look away until he noticed it was wet. You were soaking wet. You weren’t trying to be but the more he talks, the more you’re around him, the wetter you get.

You were wet. Did he do that? He groans quietly “fuck” oh he didn’t mean to say that out loud

You turn your head around “Sorry?”

Against his better judgment he says “Your skirt is awfully short. Paired with those panties as well? I can see how wet you are that’s awfully naughty. Did you do it on purpose?”

You “No! Sir I’m sorry. I just saw Fuyumi’s text this morning and I didn’t have anything else to wear I need to do laundry. It won’t happen again.”

Is he mad at me? He talks way too sexy for being so mad.

He shouldn’t go further but he does.

Enji “Do you want to feel what it’s like to cum?”

You “Mister Todoroki- What about your wife?”

Enji “Divorced. Yes or no.”

You should be saying no but the only thing that can come out of your mouth is “Yes please.”

He pushes your stomach back down on the bed harshly. Leaving you ass up forcing you to arch your back. “Good girl” he says before he rips your thong off completely. It took such little force for him to break the fabric it makes you weak. He uses the broken fabric to tie your hands behind your back. Who knew Endeavor was so kinky?

Enji “Fuyumi would hate me if she found out can you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut?”

You “Yes sir, I won’t tell. Promise!”

He moans so loud it sends shivers down your spine. Oh? Does sir turn him on?

He pushes your back to the bed harder making you arch. He puts two fingers inside you he knows with how tight you feel on him now you wouldn’t be able to comfortably take his cock but this is enough for him today.

You gasp forgetting how to breathe. You’re drooling onto your clothes. Two of this man’s fingers are thicker and longer than any dick you’ve ever had inside you before.

Enji growls “Fuck so tight for me! Let daddy rub your pretty pussy so you can take it better okay?”

Oh fuck, he likes a lot more than just sir. You whimper at his touch. You can tell he’s doing his best to be gentle. If you could take any more you’d be on your knees begging him not to hold back. You feel closer to cumming from his voice than you ever have from anyone or anything else.

Enji “Pretty girl likes when her pussy gets rubbed? I can tell you just opened up for my fingers so nicely. They’re all the way inside now. I can feel you pulsing all over them baby. Does it feel good, does daddy make your pussy feel good?”

All you can manage to get out in response are nods and soft moans. He suddenly increases the pace he’s rubbing your clit.

Enji “Be a good girl use your words.”

You “Yes, d-daddy it feels so good. I think I’m going to- oh my god.”

Enji “That’s it cum for me sweetheart. Let go for me.”

You’ve never came so hard in your life. He doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers despite your body shaking uncontrollably. Nobody will ever be able to satisfy you after this.

Enji “Say thank you daddy”

You “Oh fuck- thank you daddy!”

Enji “Good girl”

He licks his fingers clean. “tastey”

He grabs your ass spreading you apart before kneeling on the ground below you, eating your pussy out from behind. With his deep groans and thick tongue you’re so overstimulated you feel like you could cum again. He’s eating you out like he’s starved. It only took two minutes of Enji working your folds with his tongue for you to cum all over his face. The moans he lets out while lapping up your juices sound like he’s getting high off your taste. Your only hope is that Fuyumi doesn’t come home and walk in on this.

When he’s finished he grabs a warm towel to clean you up. Then unties your hands. He puts the broken thong in his pocket. What is he going to do with it?

Enji “Next time I want you stretched out on my cock. Would you be alright with that?”

You “Yes, Mister Todoroki I would be more than okay with that.”

He grabs your phone to give you his number. he puts his contact in as the letter E. He places his phone in your hand for you to do the same.

Enji “You can call me Enji outside of the bedroom, text me if you want to feel good again.”

I might make another part but I suck at being consistent so don’t take my word for it.

Notes:

Endeavor is such a guilty pleasure I need to sort the daddy issues out but i don’t want to. I hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry I know I’m not the best at grammar or spelling I hope you still like my works regardless. Comment down below any future endeavor fic ideas you’d like to see from me in the future.

Help?

I’ve resorted back to using apple notes to write all my work ahh. I was using google docs but people I know keep getting their accounts closed for writing fan fiction it was scaring me. Do you guys know any free things I could use to write on for my work? I was thinking about maybe trying word. Not sure if it’s good! I’m really bad with computers which is why I still use my phone haha. It’s so much easier to copy and paste my work than try to figure out how to use files or whatever. I need to start writing on the computer eventually though.

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Part II)

Hi everyone, this is the second part of the adopted sister x Sinclair!brothers little series. It's based on an image I posted a while ago (here).

You can find part I here and my masterlist here.

I hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : no proof reading, toxic family, overprotective Sinclair brothers, negative thoughts about yourself, insecurities, violent discussion with your family, distress, crying, mentions of deadly sickness, angst / comfort

Everything was supposed to be alright, so you couldn’t understand how your day could have gone downhill so quickly and so badly.

Your day started like the other days.

You woke up in Bo’s bed. He was already up and about, preparing breakfast for everyone in the kitchen. You grabbed a quick shower, you dressed up and joined him. You kissed his cheek and thanked him for having taken care of you the night before. He told you to not mention it and gently stroked your face. Soon after Vincent came, he greeted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek as well.

You ate in a comfortable silence before sending a little message to Lester to wish him a good day. When he wasn’t coming for breakfast, you always sent him a message because you didn’t want him to think he was less loved than the twins. He was grateful you made him feel like he was part of the family, like he mattered.

And then you went to work after the twins hugged you goodbye and asked you to be careful on the roads. Bo reminded you that if you were too tired, he or Lester could come get you at the end of your shift. You smiled and nodded, knowing how overprotective and paranoid the brothers could be when it was about you.

You arrived at work and you thought that everything was going to be alright. You sent messages to Lester because you needed him to buy you some snacks, and to the twins to make sure that they were careful with the tourists. You hated to come back home with them injured. Your messages were always answered in the instant, the boys smiling at their screen.

Everything was going alright until, during your lunch break, someone asked for you.

You were a little bit surprised because no one could ask for you. A man younger than you was waiting for you at the reception. He smiled at you and greeted you with a honey-like voice. He seemed very sweet, but you grew up with killers so you knew the voice Bo was using when he needed to lure a victim in his traps. It felt the same. You might look innocent and naïve, but you knew better. You smiled back, but soon enough you lost your good mood.

“What do you mean, you are my brother?” you asked, it felt like a bad dream or a nasty prank

“I’m Sean, your brother. We have the same parents, Lydia and Mark. They lost you when you were 7, but I’ve been able to find you again. I was so excited to meet you, and I’m sure you’ll be so happy to finally have your family back.” he told you and you felt sick

“What do you mean, they lost me? They knew what orphanage they left me at. And they never came back. Look, I’ve moved on. I don’t want to talk to you.” you replied in pure instinct. 

Something inside of you was panicking. You had wanted to leave this dark past behind you, and to understand that your parents were actually alive and had another child, whom they kept, was making you feel nauseous.

But Sean was smart, he begged for your phone number, and you gave in, so he could leave you alone. You were shaking when you came back to your office and you just couldn’t focus on your work anymore. You didn’t even finish your food.

You had barely calmed down at the end of your day. You were getting ready to get back home when you received a message from Sean. He invited you to meet your parents, so you could all be a family again. You refused and went back home as fast as you could, as if being in Ambrose would protect you from whatever the hell was going on.

You didn’t tell the twins what happened. You didn’t know why, you just didn’t feel like telling them. You were afraid of their reaction and you were afraid that if you talked about it, it would make all of this even more real.

Your parents were alive.

Your parents never came for you because they hated you.

But they had another child they loved this time.

What if it was the proof you weren’t lovable? What if it would allow the Sinclairs to realise it?

You were oddly silent that night and the twins noticed how you seemed thoughtful and tense. They didn’t manage to make you talk, and it worried them. You always told them everything, because you knew they always had your back. You got away from their interrogation by saying you just had a lot in your mind because of work, but that everything was alright. They knew when you lied, but they trusted you. They knew you would tell them if something was really off. Still, they hated to see their girl so out of her usual self.

You didn’t sleep well that night and Bo asked you if you were alright the next morning, gently cradling your face into his hands as he was looking for your eyes. You simply nodded and kissed the palm of his hands. He let you go, unconvinced. You barely ate and left before Vincent was up. You remembered to send him a message, as well to Lester though. It still concerned the three men; you never acted that way before.

They had always been a little bit worried you would meet someone, one day, which would drive you away from them. They wondered what was going on, even more because it seemed like you were upset, which was unbearable to them. You barely answered their messages today. They knew they would interrogate you that night. 

Even more so when you told them you were going to come back home late. It never happened before.

You had agreed to meet your parents. Your “brother” was good with words and he convinced you. A part of you was a little bit curious as to why they left you. And another part of you hoped that if you accepted to see them just once, then you could forget about them forever. It would be your way to make peace with your past self and to say goodbye to this era of your life. You were really stressed out but you always dealt with your problems holding your head high.

You were strong and you kept repeating it to yourself as you settled in front of your “family”, in a bar nearby your workplace. You couldn’t deny how shocked you were to be in front of your parents. They were obviously older than in your memories, but it was truly them.

At first, they all tried to be gentle to you, like when you try to get someone to do what you want them to do. You could tell they were sweet talking to you, but you weren’t too sure why. They hadn’t looked for you for over a decade, so why did they care now?

Your parents explained to you that the orphanage refused to give you back; and when they finally had all the papers to take you again, you had been adopted away. The orphanage refused to give the name of your new family. But now you could be a family again, you could be everything you should have been. You listened for a while, without saying anything. You weren’t stupid enough to believe them.

A little voice inside your head was telling you that they never tried to find you after they abandoned you, and you were believing it.

“I have a family” you finally replied as you felt your phone buzzing inside your pocket, knowing it was one of your brothers messaging you.

You saw that your parents tried no to laugh at that and their son sent them a little warning look, as to tell them “don’t fuck this up”. You leaned into your seat, waiting.

“I’m very happy you found a family, despite everything” Sean said as he took your hand in his. You did your best to not remove it from his grasp. “But I want my big sister home, I want to know you and to take care of you. I’m sure you want to discover who I am too; you don’t have to be alone anymore. We can be a real family. You have been missed so much” he continued and you knew that if you didn’t have the Sinclairs in your life, you would have fallen for this. 

“Why now?” you asked

“It has been difficult to find you before. When I finally managed to find the name of Victor Sinclair, it was impossible to find where Ambrose was. I promise we’ve been looking for you for quite a while now.” he explained

“You could have looked for us too” Lydia said with a little bit of venom in her voice; a venom you used to know so much. It made you want to throw up but you didn’t show anything.

“You abandoned me.” you simply replied

“And we want you back” Sean said before his mother could reply “But we don’t have a lot of time” he continued

He proceeded to explain that your mother was heavily sick and that she needed a very expensive treatment they couldn’t pay for her. They needed your help, they needed your money, they needed you in their lives.

The little girl inside you wanted to cry; she wanted to be a good girl to her family, she wanted to obey like she used to. She thought she could finally be loved by her parents and to show them how useful she could be.

But you had grown up, and you now knew what it was to be loved and wanted. You didn’t need them for that, even if a toxic part of you wished to know more of Sean; to understand why he was loved by your parents when they never cared about you.

However, you were smart so you refused to help them and to be part of their family. Your answer displeased your parents who started to tell you all the awful things they used to yell at you. They woke up all your most primitive insecurities; the ones they created when you were a child and the ones you could barely make shut up.

You were a waste of space, you were clingy, stupid, you were talking too much, you were asking too much, you were unlovable and pathetic, you were going to end all alone because even your real family couldn’t stand you, you didn’t deserve to be part of anything. 

Sean tried to appease the situation but you got up and left without a word. You didn’t want to give them that kind of power over you. You didn’t want to cry in front of them; you just wanted to come back home, where you felt safe and loved.

You noticed the missed calls from Bo and Lester, the messages from Vincent. You sent a message on the family group chat “On my way home, sorry I’m later than I thought I’d be”. Bo instantly offered to give you a ride but you refused. You needed some time to yourself, to calm down.

One thing was certain: you didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened.

You didn’t know how they would react to such news and you were afraid they wouldn’t want you anymore in their lives. What if they realised you were indeed unbearable, clingy, stupid, too talkative? What if they realised your parents were right to abandon you? What if they thought family was too important and that you needed to get back to yours?

When you parked your car outside the house, the three men instantly opened the front door to welcome you home. They quickly were all over you, checking on you and asking you what was going on. It warmed your heart and it appeased you a little bit. You were loved, you needed to remind yourself that.

You still barely managed to smile at them and you weren’t hungry. You told them you were going to go to bed, but they weren’t going to let you go that easily. You had always told them what was wrong. You were far too important to them for them to drop the subject. If something was wrong, then it was their duty to find a solution.

They needed you to be happy.

Despite your arguments, they settled you on one of the kitchen chairs and Bo knelt in front of you as Vincent brought his chair closer to yours. Lester was behind you, his hands on your shoulders in a comforting way while Jonesy was whining at your feet. They coaxed you into telling them the truth. After a little while, you finally let escape the words that were burning your heart, throat and mouth.

“My biological family found me”

Pure panic wracked through the three men as they exchanged a look. They couldn’t understand what was going on. Their first thought was “Are we losing her?” and then “We have to get rid of them or to lock her up. We can’t lose her.”

“They are dead,” Bo simply said, trying to make sense of the situation.

You only had the strength to shake your head, before you started crying. And it broke the men’s hearts. They had no idea what was going on, but they did their best to comfort you with soft cuddles and gentle words. It had been such a long time ago since the last time they saw you crying and they remembered very well how much they hated it. They felt quite powerless but they kept trying to make you feel better.

“Ya sure it’s really them?” Lester tried to question and you nodded

“They know too much for them to not be… And I recognised my parents. Can’t fucking believe they had a son…” you babbled and the mention of another man tense the brothers even more. A brother could so easily take their place, and they couldn’t let that happen. You were a Sinclair. “He tried to be nice to me, but how can I trust him?” you whispered

“Ya can’t darl’. What do they want from you anyways?” Bo replied, trying to hide his anger

“They said they want me back, but it’s for my money because she is sick” you said, crying even more

“Those fuckers. She should die then. They ain’t your family” Bo groaned

“They said they didn’t come back to get me because I was too much” you continued, needing everything out so the brothers could comfort you

“Ya ain’t too much” Bo replied with annoyance now; he was getting really mad at those people

“We love ya so damn much, ya know it” Lester whispered to you “They ain’t deservin’ your tears” he added

“And we can get rid of them if it could make you happy again” Vincent signed and it instantly made you stop crying. 

You stared at him, wondering if it was indeed what you wanted.

“I don’t want the police to find you. And Sean…” you started

“What ‘bout him?” Bo asked, grabbing your face into his right hand, for your attention to be on him. 

Your eyes widened as this time you heard it in his voice; the love, the jealousy and the worry. You seemed to have forgotten how possessive Sinclairs were over their own people. You dried your tears and tried to calm down, before softly smiling at the three of them. 

It was going to be alright again, you knew it.

--

Part 3

[maxmoffs]

guys i am gonna make this super VERY CLEAR AND QUICK , I think it’s actually pretty obvious too, so to update you all my mains especially, and you my angel mutuals so that you know that im not dead and I am writing again 😅 but that I had been resting , and had a very very very unprompted but needed MAJOR INTERNET DETOX which is not something that I really need to ask permission for not update bc these blogs are my space to have fun and be creative with yall. ( this includes here , my personal life social medias and completely off the radar , even my friends in person/irl thought I disappeared … ) but , that I AM BACK BUT I AM GOING TO BE SEMI TIME + MOOD DEPENDANT ACTIVITY . because while im so incredibly excited and made my squid game muses as well as made amazing changes to my blogs i also had a busy schedule irl so suddenly especially with my musical coming up so i will be very weird timezone because during the night is when I usually am around and that is when my musical rehearsals will be :( for the next two months , hence time dependant, … this doesn’t mean I won’t be around , it just means my replies via dms + plots will be a day opposite because im in a bad timezone 🥺😭 it’s just uncontrollable, if this is going to be an inconvenience for you personally / prefer fast replies i totally understand its a preference but also for me to feel happy here to come on whenever without feeling guilty or anxious that i ‘lose’ interactions , this is very clear in my rules that just bc im slow doesn’t mean i dont want to write with u. hence why I also do have my mains because I want wanda and ALL OF MY MUSES to have permanent and constant interactions . but that is not limited and once we have interactions going ic or ooc , you are forever locked in with me. second update is that , I just want to update yall , that im okay and feeling better . this is the first time ive logged on to my laptop and my blogs for the past two and half weeks , as some of you know i did have my musical audition for a week and then i got sick with a flu this week . so I hadn’t left my bed and had pretty much just writing in my journal to exude my will to write and playing marvel rivals lol. other than that, I am okay. I wanted to clear this up so that im not worrying any of you and that im grateful for the check ins 🤍🫶🏼 pls understand i want to be on , but i will be quite slow for the next two months during my musical commitments. i hope you are all still interested in writing with me bc I really really don’t want to delete and have you not returned to tumblr for only four months now , i want to stay bc this space is actually quite healing for me to be creative in this avenue and I hope to keep that going and hope my speed doesn’t affect whatever we have going, especially with my friends/mains.

thank you! much love, ellie 🤍

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Hello! This might be a silly question, but I was curious if you have any future Hazbin/Helluva fics or ideas planned once transmissions is completed? Whether it be Drift or Vox & Al centric or otherwise? Absolutely no pressure of course, you do whatever makes you happy at your own time, I know you’ve sorta elaborated a little on it in other asks before but I wasn’t completely sure lol (everyone btw please go read these fics and give them traction! They are so so good!)

Awww, Anon <3 You got me all blushy now! Really though, glad you like my fics! Was actually in the middle of writing up the next Transmission chapter too, coincidentally <33

But yeah, actually I have a list of different ideas for more helluva/hazbin shenanigans, mostly taking place in the same verse! Haven't decided which to actually start penning yet, and maybe you guys could let me know what interests you the most! Here's a short synopsizes of the ones I had sorta outlined:

For those of you that have read Statistical Outliers, you might remember Vox mentioning an event called the Grand Exhibition, an annual ball that's thrown by overlords for overlords. You might also recall that there's a party that originally inspired that one, a goetia party which even Vox described as 'beyond exclusive'. Well, our media man himself warrants an invitation to this exclusive event, the first overlord personally invited since the one that started the overlord ball! But there's both pluses and minuses to be one of the only Sinners among an echelon of demons who, um, have their own agendas. I say one of because now that's Lucifer is back and trying to spread his wings more, his daughter convinces him to take some of the guests from the hotel as a plus one, or two, or six. Which may include, the the ire of the devil himself, our favorite radio host. Sad as it is to say, Vox might just be safer dancing with Alastor than rubbing elbows with this crowd.

That's the short synopsis but it's kinda a celebration of the hellverse as a whole. You might see some appearances from characters you might not suspect, like Drift, the Sins, famous goetia, and potentially a dysfunctional work family of imps ;)

Another idea actually branches off an initiative that Charlie comes up with, with the assistance of Emily, hoping to help bridge the gap between sinners and winners. And what better way to do that than a friendly interview where Sinners can apologize to the Winners that they may have been sent upstairs before their time. That's the pitch, anyways. In reality? Vox, master of television, is brought on board to help make this whole thing run smooth. And of course he plans on bending it all to his own benefit. Everything kinda gets derailed when the first interview ends up being Drift, meeting the man he hit on accident. And you know? The victim here might not act the way you'd think for an angel.

Aside from some more Drift and Vox interactions, this one was going to go into the kid's backstory in more detail, and kinda comment on the disbalance between judgement of Winners and Sinners. What separates one from the other? Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day. Or being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And Vox is over here looking to make this whole thing turn to his advantage.

On the more Helluva boss centered side of things, I do have a fic regarding Striker and his backstory. Written from the perspective of Striker's childhood best friend, its a story about the wilds of Wrath, where rugged childhood adventures turn to gritty adult drama. Its a rollercoaster, meant to show off how exactly Striker got to be who he was and introducing another character who is going to feature here and there throughout the intertwined webs of stories, my helluva oc, Wyld. This one is already written out quite a bit, nearly 200,000 words at this point, just never published. Wasn't sure there'd be much interest in it. Fair warning, this one gets dark in places because it's very much inspired by gritty realistic westerns, like Eastwood's Unforgiven.

Those are the ones on the docket right now, mostly because those are the ones I've outlined so far, but I'm always adding to it. For anyone interested in my fics, the first one is Statistical Outliers, which is where the main man of television meets a scrawny hairball by the name of Drift and takes it upon himself to, uh, rehome him. And why does it seem like Alastor's sticky fingers are involved in this somehow? The sequel, currently ongoing, is called Transmission Not Received , which is a mystery that forces a reluctant Alastor and Vox to work together to figure out who's running across Pentagram City and nabbing kids from right under their parents' noses in the dead of night.

Hoping to get the next chapter of Transmission up soonish and, boy, is it a doozey!

Either way, let me know what you guys think, maybe check out the fics if ya see something that interests you, and a special shout out back to Anon for making my day! <3

Thanks for the ask! <33

[virtueofsanityx]

as the night goes on, ross goes more warm and fuzzy, and as that happens, he starts to feel more loose and uncareful. he says more things that he probably shouldn't say, he offers a few more little brushes of his hand or lets his eyes roam, but the night seems to come to an end before he can think to extend it, and though some part of him wants to offer maksim a sleepover, maybe a tour of his toybox, since the night is still so young, the man is already leaving and he feels like he's choking on the words.

like it's not the right time yet.

he watches the other man leave with mild interest, eyes definitely lingering even after the door is closed, the buzz of the alcohol making him too warm to function any longer in the clothes he'd tossed on, and he ends up stripped naked and laying sideways on his bed, asleep before he can truly think too much about it.

and then life seems to circle back to mundane. time spent in the classroom teaching, time spent out of it preping for more teaching, mind occasionally wandering toward maksim, pulling up their text thread to look at it, starting to type and then quickly deleting it. he wants to ask if maksim has been on the date yet, though the thought of it makes something in his stomach turn at the idea. he isn't interested in this absolute fucking jerk of a man, but...

maybe it's that tentative friendship thing that ross has been trying to convince himself might be there. he wants his possible friend to have good things. he wants him to find happiness or whatever. so he's feeling sick about the idea of some blind date that's probably gonna suck, and maybe he's hoping the person that maksim's going on a date with is also a little ugly, so what? normal possible tentative friend behavior, if you ask ross.

midterms finish up, and the couple of week break is a great chance for ross to try and get his place cleaned up, to catch up on some of the relaxing he barely lets himself do, and it startles him when his phone chimes with a new message, blinking at it for a moment, starting to respond and stopping when he notices the little dots appearing.

so the date had to have gone bad. that was the deal, right? he isn't sure why that makes his stomach swoop the way it does, but it certainly does.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] doms can sniff out other doms, right? i like a big guy, someone who could just hold me up and fuck me without straining too much, you know? that type. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] take it the date didn't go super well, then, since we're planning a night out? i'm sorry to hear it. but i'll keep an eye out. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] you know deep down inside that i have to make that weird, right? are you sure you aren't telling me to wear a pretty little plug so that you know i have it and you can get yourself all revved up to fuck whatever unsuspecting little bottom i find for you?

he's smirking as he sends the messages off, though some part of him is flustered, heart racing, cheeks pink, pants a little tighter. he doesn't want to admit that last part, even to himself, so he ignores it and moves toward his closer to find that stupid see-through top he said he's wear out. he could always say it lost it, but where's the fun in that. then, after a brief moment of what can only be insanity, he's digging through his toybox and pulling out an array of his plugs, laying them out across his mattress and snapping a photo.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] (image attached) [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] which one? if you're gonna offer advice, may as well go all the way. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i'm partial to the red one, myself, that's the thickest, but how warmed up do you think i should be? are you planning to actually get me laid?

his face is definitely red by the time he's done with that string of messages, and he's moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, breathe in and out, and then look at himself in the mirror, try to calm down a little. he feels almost foolish. this is just banter, why's he getting so worked up over it? blowing out another long, slow breath, he picks up his phone again.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] do you wanna talk about the date, btw? was it just not fun? boring? lame?

Initially, Maksim easily brushes off the beyond ridiculous chatter about toys and other trivialities-------- after all, none of it's directed towards him or meant to be suggestive. And so it's effortless to let everything roll off his shoulders. Everyone has their own ways of seeking pleasure, and if maybe they're hopeless in the dating department or uninterested in a string of meaningless hookups, there's nothing wrong with just getting the job done yourself. Maksim, however, can't fully relate. A big part of his ability to get off comes from something far more innate... domination. There’s nothing quite like the whimpered noises and soft mewls of someone succumbing to him completely, the intoxicating power of breaking them into submission. Of course, he keeps that to himself; Ross’s tipsy jabbering is far too amusing to interrupt, and, admittedly, Maksim finds it fun to poke and prod at the bratty little bottom. Whoever ends up dealing with that in the future is going to have their hands full. After spending just one morning with Ross, Maksim had felt an animalistic urge to fucking tear him apart. ...Annnnnd here he was now, making bets and somehow agreeing to hit a club with him someday. Was he really so bored (or maybe so stressed out of his fucking mind) that he’d let a singular human become his best source of entertainment? Perhaps. But it could’ve been worse. At least Ross was easy on the eyes, far more enjoyable to look at than to listen to when he was whining and bitching. Maksim could appreciate that, even if it meant tolerating the rest. Ahem.

After a bit more idle chatter about nothing of consequence, and with most of the food gone thanks to him, Maksim found himself feeling significantly looser, far more at ease than before. He credited the alcohol for that, along with the occasional laugh the human had managed to pull out of him, though he wouldn’t go as far as giving Ross any direct compliments. That just wasn’t his style. Once the cleanup was finished, a slow, relaxed smirk spread across Maksim’s lips, piercing blues roving down Ross’s form, lingering on the way the smaller man swayed unsteadily on his feet before bumping clumsily into the counter. "Looks like it’s bedtime for you," he remarked, and with a long arm of muscles rippling beneath his skin, Maksim reached around Ross to grab the half-full bottle of vodka sitting nearby. "Drink some more, and then go to bed," he instructed, the playful lilt in his tone matched by the wag of his brows. "Haven’t picked up on anything concerning in the area, so you’re free to get your beauty sleep." His gaze swept over Ross one final time, lasting just long enough to take in the sight of him, before he stepped back. Grabbing the keys to his motorcycle, the Alpha abruptly made his way toward the door, solidly hulking frame moving with mesmerizing purpose as he slipped out into the night. But just as the apartment door clicked shut behind him, he paused. That overpowering confidence faltered as a troubling thought crept its way into his mind; it wasn’t just the alcohol or the warmth of the night that had him hesitating. No------ deep down, buried beneath layers of hardened indifference, Maksim knew the truth. He didn’t want to leave. Not really. What nagged at him was the fact that he hadn’t been invited to stay, not because of danger or necessity, but simply because Ross wanted him there. It was an outlandish notion, one that made no fucking sense, and yet it rooted itself stubbornly in the carved masculinity of his chest. Frowning, Maksim glanced down at the crack beneath the door, his broad shoulders tense. Nah, that's not it, he decided firmly, brushing the thought aside. It’s definitely just the loneliness talking.

After that, Maksim heads back to his pack’s makeshift village, setting the wheels in motion for the upcoming date with a member of a neighboring pack. It’s with some little male Omega, apparently so stunning that he’s managed to get several Alphas and Betas fighting over him, and was currently fending them off like trying to beat back some wild dogs with a stick or some other absurd drama. Nevertheless, Maksim’s skepticism ran deep. When you’re used to beautiful bottoms practically throwing themselves at you, and you’ve had the kind of upbringing he’s had, your standards tend to be a bit more discerning, even complicated. Maksim knows the connection he seeks depends far more on physical chemistry. He wants that spark, the one-of-a-kind gravitational pull that tells him right away that this is the one, the mate. And though he’s never experienced that instant recognition, he’s not about to let his hopes run wild. So, he reaches out to the Omega, sets up the date, and goes about his pack duties------ leading meetings, lending a hand with family matters. In between, he makes a random stop in town at a dingy little bookstore to pick up Lord of the Flies, feeling slightly stupid for caring about some juvenile kindergartner's book. Finally, he takes care to ensure he’s well-groomed and presentable by the time the blind date rolls around.

For the date, Maksim brings the Omega on a typical werewolf-style adventure, nothing extravagant, but enough to feel like an experience. A hike through rugged terrain leads them to a stunning waterfall, its cascade shimmering in the daylight, before finishing with a peaceful picnic in a meadow. Maksim’s prepared for comfort, bringing enough blankets to keep them cozy, though the cold has no effect on them------- werewolves always run hot, after all. But as they settle in, Maksim quickly realizes he’s the one doing all the work in this conversation. He’s the one asking questions, pushing for any spark of energy or intrigue from the little wolf, but it’s like pulling teeth. The Omega only seems content to giggle softly and nod in agreement, never straying from the script, offering all of the submission but none of the personality. Maybe they’ve been told this is simply an arranged connection meant to unite their packs, with zero deeper elements of mate-selection even considered. It’s frustrating, because Maksim inherently knows the real bond with a mate is supposed to feel different. There should be chemistry, a shared fire, but there’s nothing here but polite pleasantries. Maksim can’t help but wonder: is this how they all see him? As the overbearing Alpha, too in love with the sound of his own voice? Does his pack truly believe that he needs someone who won’t challenge him, who’ll simply let him take charge and never rock the boat? That’s how this date feels-------- like a carefully orchestrated performance. And while it’s irritating, Maksim can’t really blame his loved ones. They just want him to be happy, even if they’ve got the whole thing wrong. But one thing’s for sure: he won’t be talked into this kind of bullshit again.

Despite the lackluster outing, Maksim manages to wrap things up on a relatively bright note, politely declining when the Omega shyly suggests coming over to his place . It would be easy, almost too easy, to snatch up the offer and get his dick wet, but for some inexplicable reason, Maksim finds himself more interested in heading home to have a heated conversation with Ross instead. He drops the Omega off with a courteous "thanks for the lovely time," his tone polite but distant, before making his way back to his own home. There, another Omega is already preparing his bath and getting his bed ready for the night. And later, in the quiet of the evening, Maksim lies sprawled across his crimson sheets, the luxurious fox fur pillows propping up his head as he relaxes completely naked, a single scrap of crimson silk draped across his chiseled thighs and hips. One massive arm gets tucked behind his head, supporting his weight as his other hand taps out a message, a devilish grin curling on his lips.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Hope you and your toy collection are ready, we're going out Saturday.

For a moment, Maksim’s mind goes into overdrive, thoughts spinning out of control as his brain becomes consumed by the dark and tempting fantasies. He can't help but imagine Ross, stretched out on the thickest toy, the image searing through his mind all too captivatingly. The idea of asking for a video of it crosses his thoughts, but he immediately discards it. There’s no way he’s letting himself be seen that desperate for a human. Sure, he’d have no problem if Ross introduced him to one, or even tried to set him up with one at the club. But that was different; Maksim owed nothing to an ordinary human, and the thought of them meant little beyond the moment. He wouldn't care if he killed them when his inner beast became too much; in fact, Ross would be leading a lamb to the slaughter on that night, much without his knowledge.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] What's your type btw? So I know what to look out for. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I like a man who's pretty, thick. Has some tummy, ass, thighs, all of that good shit. Enough for me to grab onto. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Also can I suggest something without you making it weird? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Wear a pretty little plug when we go. What guy doesn't want his sub all warmed up in public? Thank me later.

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much