#Marriage Operation Before Romance

[luminnara]

Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

[mononijikayu]

marry you — ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?" Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!" Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again!!!)~ this is the final (maybe) installment of amnesia and a day in a life . reader and sukuna have been together for a while after this. they're much happier and healthy here. yuji loves his unckuna and auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a ball writing this because i just, this was fun. seeing sukuna be silly. anyway i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3 also @midnight-138, this is for you, im sorry for my angsty writing <3

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THERE WAS NEVER A TIME IN HIS LIFE THAT ANYTHING WAS NOT MEASURED. Ryomen Sukuna had always lived by the belief that precision and decisiveness were the cornerstones of strength. His brother, Jin, was the opposite in that regard.

Jin was easygoing, someone who flowed through life with a relaxed confidence. That’s how he had ended up casually taking his wife Kaori’s name without a second thought after marriage, something that had never sat well with Sukuna. 

It wasn’t that Sukuna found it disrespectful; rather, he simply couldn't understand how someone could relinquish a piece of themselves so easily. To Sukuna, names held power, identity, and control. They were not to be changed on a whim.

And most of all, it was who he was. If his brother was going to let the name die, who would continue it? Yet maybe, that’s besides the point. Because it wasn’t the point.

The point was this — Ryomen Sukuna found himself in an unusual position, plagued by doubt. Unlike his brother, who easily adapted and made decisions without looking back, Sukuna was being dragged through an internal war, and this was uncharted territory for him.

He had always been sure—sure of his choices, sure of his actions, sure of his strength. Whether in battle or in the mundane aspects of life, he operated with an unshakable conviction. It had defined him for so long.

Except now, with the ring in his hand, everything felt different. 

For months, Sukuna had been reduced to a more fragile version of himself, struggling with emotions he thought he had long buried, emotions he used to scoff at as weakness.

But this—this wasn’t a trivial matter, not something he could merely slice through with a sharp blade or dismiss with his usual unyielding demeanor. This wasn’t about power or domination. It was about vulnerability, commitment, and the gravity of the choice he was about to make.

The ring wasn’t just a symbol; it was a testament to something far deeper. Sukuna had never hesitated before. But for the first time, he was wrestling with fear—the fear of being vulnerable, of giving a piece of himself away, just as his brother had done so easily. But was it really a weakness? Or had he, all this time, misunderstood the strength it took to let someone in?

He had bought it months ago. A shimmering band, simple yet unmistakably meaningful, one that carried the weight of everything he had come to feel for you. Every glance, every brush of your hand, every laugh—each moment had woven itself into the threads of his existence. And now, here he was, staring at this small, ridiculous piece of jewelry like it was the most dangerous object in the world.

He wanted to propose.

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. He wanted to tell you, to kneel (a position he never imagined himself in) and offer you the promise of forever. The thought was absurd, wasn’t it? Him kneeling before someone?

Yet for you, the idea seemed... right. He didn’t just want you; he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you happy, something he had never imagined himself capable of until you.

And that’s what drove him mad.

He didn’t know how to do it. How was a man like him supposed to express something so fragile? Words weren’t his strong suit, and even if he could gather them, they always seemed to fall short when it came to you. How could he ever explain the storm of emotions, the way you’d carved a place for yourself in his blackened heart? The very thought of it made his fingers clenched into fists.

The timing, too—it was never right. Every time he thought he might do it, something held him back. What if he wasn’t enough? What if, despite everything, you said no? The ring burned in his pocket like a curse of its own, a reminder of everything he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Ryomen Sukuna who’s been in delinquent clubs, who’s been the most fearsome wrestler and now undefeated weightlifter — who has done anything, and yet never been frightened. Not at all. But proposing to you? That terrified him.

Sukuna wasn’t used to nerves, but ever since he bought that ring, they seemed to follow him everywhere. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sukuna was struggling. So, he decided he was going to get this over with—no more overthinking. How hard could it be, really? It was just a proposal. 

Attempt one: At dinner.

The scene was set. A quiet, candlelit dinner at your favorite restaurant. It was your birthday. No perfect day, right? It was everything that you could ever want. It was intimate, it was heartfelt and it was just completely perfect.

Ryomen Sukuna had been uncharacteristically calm the whole night, which should have tipped you off that something was up. Between bites of your meal, you saw him fiddling with something in his pocket. Your face scrunches at the sight of him. And then your boyfriend cleared his throat—a sound that, for someone as confident as him, felt almost foreign.

“So, baby….” he began, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked just a bit. “How would you feel about spending the rest of your life—”

Suddenly, the waiter appeared with a massive tray of dessert samples.

“Would you like to try our seasonal—”

Sukuna glared at the waiter, his red eye twitching as the moment slipped through his fingers. You tried to stifle your laugh as the waiter, completely oblivious, kept talking about tiramisu. Sukuna nearly cursed the man on the spot, but instead, he dropped the conversation. That’s just as one would say — strike one.

Attempt two: Movie night.

Alright, he thought, a more relaxed setting would be better. Just you, him, and some stupid romantic movie you insisted on watching. This was just as intimate as the first one, but maybe a little bit more animated. Still, it was just between you two.

He thinks you would love it like this. The ring was ready in his hoodie pocket, and halfway through the movie, as the cheesy proposal scene played out on the screen, he thought, This is it. This is the moment.

But just as he leaned closer to you, reaching for the ring, the actor on screen dropped to one knee in front of the actress, who acted stunned. Everyone around the actors gasped and started freaking out and clapping. You groaned, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it.

“Oh my god, if anyone ever proposed to me like that!” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry baby, but I ain’t that gal. I’d die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Your boyfriend Sukuna froze, hand halfway to his pocket, and quickly pretended he was just stretching. He slumped back on the couch, gritting his teeth.

Not like that, got it.

Attempt three: At the gym.

This was it. No more romantic crap—just you and him doing something you both enjoyed. He’d taken you to the gym, your regular workout routine in full swing. He figured the casual vibe would work, that maybe he could just slip the proposal into conversation like it was no big deal. Everything about this was perfect. Everything was going to go the way he wanted. Yup, that’s how it will go.

The problem? Sukuna wasn’t built for “casual.” 

He spotted you while you were doing squats, casually throwing out, “You know… we should, uh, work on something long-term together, baby.”

“Huh? A long term plan?” You huffed back at him, your brows furrowed.

“I mean….something concrete. Like….like, something for us, you know? A long time.”

You blinked up at him, catching your breath. “Like a couple’s fitness plan?”

“Or... you know... life. Forever. Together.”

You squinted at him. “Are you feeling okay, baby? You sound delirious.”

He muttered something about “too many reps” and practically sprinted to the other side of the gym, leaving you utterly confused. Everyone was just as confused. You looked at the store clerk, Uraume but they just shrugged at you. You guess it was just one of those days.

Attempt four: The kitchen.

Ryomen Sukuna had woken up that morning and decided today’s the day. He was done failing, and he wasn’t going to overthink it anymore. He could do this. He knows he can. It wasn’t rocket science. People proposed all the time, and somehow they survived. And it happens, it ends up happening. Everything after that always ends up in a wedding. Yeah, he can do this. 

You were making breakfast, humming to yourself, when Sukuna casually strolled into the kitchen, the ring in his pocket yet again. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. You were the only person who could make something as mundane as cracking eggs look beautiful. 

You looked up to him and smiled, greeting him sweetly. God, you were so beautiful. You looked like you were made from heaven. A genuine angel, as you asked him if he wanted coffee. He mumbled back and cleared his throat. You moved over to the other counter and started the coffee machine.

“Hey, babe.” he began, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was an odd edge to his voice. “How do you feel about... I don’t know... spending the rest of your life with me?”

Without looking up, you shrugged. “Sounds good. Can you pass me the salt?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—what?”

You finally glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “I said, yeah, sounds good. Now the salt, please?”

Sukuna stood there, frozen. Was that a yes? Did you even know he was proposing?

You stared at him, still waiting for the salt shaker. When he didn’t move, you walked over and grabbed it yourself. “Thanks, big guy.” you said with a playful smile, clearly unaware that Sukuna had just (sort of) proposed.  “Now, do you want some avocado on your toast today or nah?”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. It was hard for him to be angry with you either. You were too cute. Another failure.

Attempt five: The supermarket.

The ring still in his pocket, Ryomen Sukuna was now truly desperate. At this point, he was just winging it. You were both running errands, and as you reached for a carton of eggs in the store, he thought, Screw it. There were no romantic backdrops, no candles, no cheesy movie scenes—just the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. Your day to day. Nothing too much. This was now or never.

“Listen, baby.” he said, his tone more urgent than usual. “What if we just—”

At that moment, a kid ran by with a cart, ramming it right into Sukuna’s leg. A light groan came out of Sukuna as the kid’s eyes grew wide. Sukuna’s eyes turned dark as he glared at the kid. The kid swallowed the bile down his throat. As he was about to move, you called Sukuna. The kid let out a yelp and started pushing his cart. 

The child screamed, “Sorry, mister!” and ran off, leaving your boyfriend in a state of pandemonium.

You, still holding the eggs, glanced at him for a moment and burst out laughing.

He sighed, slumping against the shelf. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

You smiled, stepping closer and poking his chest. “Get what right, baby?”

Sukuna glanced at the ring still burning in his pocket and grumbled, “Nothing. Just... forget it.”

You didn’t push him, but your knowing smile told him you weren’t entirely clueless. Maybe you had been waiting all along. Maybe, despite all his ridiculous failed attempts, you already knew what was coming. 

Maybe, the next time he tried, you’d say yes before he even finished his sentence.

And maybe, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

HIS MOTHER USED TO SAY THAT OLDER BROTHERS KNEW BEST. But in all his life, Ryomen Sukuna liked to pride himself never needing to end up asking his elder brother for advice. Or any help at all, if he was being honest. The scarlet eyed man never liked having his brother do things for him. He doesn’t like owing anyone anything. 

Because Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for asking anyone for advice—especially not about matters of the heart. 

But after months of failed attempts, Sukuna could only find himself sitting in his brother Jin’s living room, slouched on the couch with his hands pressed against his face. He had to give in and concede to what his mother said. His brother knew best. And he should ask him. The ring still weighed heavy in his pocket, mocking him at every turn. His mother’s nagging words came to him, almost as though she would still be pinching his ear. Maybe if you asked your brother, you wouldn’t be suffering like this!

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, bro.” Sukuna muttered, his voice low, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been trying for months, bro. Months. Every time I think I’ve got it right, something goes wrong. I’ve got the ring. I’ve got the words. But I don’t know... it’s like nothing’s perfect enough. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Jin, ever calm and collected compared to his fiery younger brother, chuckled from across the room. He sat in his armchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking up from the book he had been reading. “You’re overthinking it, Kuna.”

“Overthinking?” Sukuna scoffed, sitting up and glaring at his brother. “I can’t just walk up and throw the ring at the love of my life, you know? They deserve something... more from me. I want it to be perfect.”

Jin set his book down and leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning up in a nostalgic smile. “You know, I went through something similar when I proposed to Kaori.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “You? Really? You seem so... calm about all of this.”

Jin laughed, shaking his head. “Calm? Hardly. I was a wreck. I had all these elaborate plans I worked really hard on. I thought I’d propose on a sunset beach or during some elegant dinner. But none of it worked out the way I thought.”

Sukuna frowned, curious despite himself. “So what did you do?”

Jin scratched the back of his head, clearly amused by the memory. “We were on a road trip—just a spontaneous one. I think that’s when we decided to go north. We got lost. The car broke down multiple times in the middle of nowhere, and it started pouring rain. Hard. We were soaked, stuck under a leaky gas station awning, of all places. There was nothing romantic about all of it. And yet…..well, it was what it was.”

Sukuna stared at him, baffled. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was, little brother.” Jin agreed, grinning. “But Kaori laughed through the whole thing. She thought it was hilarious. And that’s when I realized—there wasn’t going to be a perfect moment. So, I just asked her. Right there, soaking wet, covered in mud and all the dirt in the world. I didn’t even have the ring on me because I’d left it in the car. But I asked anyway.”

“And she said yes?” Sukuna asked, still trying to wrap his mind around how his brother had managed to pull that off.

Jin nodded with a wide smile. “Without hesitation. Because, little brother, it didn’t matter where we were or how it looked. What mattered was that I was asking her to spend her life with me. She didn’t care about the setting or the way I asked. She just cared about me. And wanting to continue loving me. So, she just said yes. Damn the world or what was good. She just…wanted me.”

Sukuna exhaled, leaning back again and letting that sink in. “I just... I don’t know if I can be that casual about it. I want the love of my life to love it. I want it to be... memorable.”

Jin leaned forward, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Kuna. It just has to be you. And about your love together. If sis in law does love you, it’ll be great no matter what. It will just happen. Trust me.”

Sukuna sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. “I hope you’re right. I just—” 

Before he could finish, the door to the room burst open, and Yuji bounced in, grinning from ear to ear. He was still dressed in his football uniform. “Uncle Sukuna! I heard you’re going to propose! Let me help!”

Sukuna groaned. The kid had such good ears, damn him. “Oi, brat! This is... it’s not something I need help with.’specially not from you! It’s—”

“Oh, come on! I’ve got great ideas, unc! We can do fireworks, or... or maybe we can surprise auntie with, like, a whole flash mob at the mall!” Yuji’s excitement was contagious, but Sukuna could feel a headache forming at the thought of any of those ideas. “I think auntie will love it, you know?”

“No flash mobs, Yuji.”

Yuji pouted for a moment, but then his face brightened again. “Okay, okay, what about a treasure hunt? Like, you leave little clues everywhere, and the final clue leads to you with the ring! I mean, auntie would love that! Auntie’s always been someone who likes puzzles!”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jin, who was barely hiding his laughter behind his hand. His brother was enjoying this little misery of his. His nephew’s barely thirteen and yet he’s got the idealistic mind. Too much like his brother, Sukuna thinks. But then again, his mother’s the same sort of human being. 

“Hey brat, I don’t think your auntie appreciates getting dragged across the city just to find me with a ring at the end.” Sukuna said, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “Auntie would get tired really fast then ask where’s the nearest soda shop.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well, whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. You’re awesome! Auntie will totally say yes.” He gave Sukuna a thumbs up, his usual boundless optimism shining through. “I mean, auntie’s been with you too long, so it's just bound to settle like that.”

“Wait, what do you mean settle—”

“Hey, hey! I didn’t mean anything mean about it.” Yuji pouted at his uncle defensively. “You know that much, unc! I love seeing you and auntie together.”

Sukuna shook his head at his nephew, though a small, begrudging smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, brat.”

Jin, watching the exchange, nodded in agreement. “See, Kuna? It doesn’t matter how you do it. It’ll be great, because it’s coming from you.”

Sukuna sighed, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket one more time. “I guess... I’ll just have to stop thinking so much and go for it.”

Yuji’s grin stretched even wider. “That’s the spirit now, unc! And if you change your mind about the flash mob, I’m totally in.”

Sukuna chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuji, still bouncing with excitement, suddenly lit up with an idea. "Oh! I know! Why don’t you come and coach my football team for a day? You can do it there!" 

Sukuna blinked, utterly baffled by the suggestion. "Coach... football? What are you talking about, brat?"

Yuji was practically vibrating with energy now. "It’s perfect! You can come to practice, and we’ll, I don’t know, pretend something happened—like, I could pretend I twisted my ankle or something—and then, boom! You step in, gather everyone around, and propose! Auntie will be there all excited to be there and cheer us and you on."

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?"

Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!"

Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

But before he could properly dismiss the idea, Jin let out a hearty laugh from his chair. “Why not, little brother? It’s certainly different. Do you have any better ideas?” 

Sukuna shot him a look, but Jin just grinned. He could see his brother’s frustration boiling over, but there was also something else—maybe Sukuna was finally realizing that no moment was ever going to feel perfect. Not in the way he imagined.

“Come on, come on.” Jin said, still chuckling. “I mean, think about it. It’s so out of character for you that it might actually work. A little spontaneity never hurts anyone.”

Sukuna rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “You really think I should just... go to a football practice and pop the question in front of a bunch of sweaty teenagers?”

Yuji jumped in again, totally on board with his own wild idea. “Yeah! And I’ll totally sell it—I’ll limp off the field, everyone will be worried, and then you step up like a hero. I can already picture it!” He waved his arms dramatically, trying to sell the scene. "It’ll be epic."

Jin crossed his arms, his grin still plastered on his face. "It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s definitely memorable. And isn’t that what you wanted?"

Sukuna sighed, the absurdity of it all weighing on him. Coaching Yuji’s football team, of all things, to propose? He couldn’t believe this was even a conversation. Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it might actually work.

Not because it was perfect—but because it was so wildly unexpected that it would leave you speechless. Maybe, after all these failed attempts, that was what he needed.

Still, he grumbled, "If this goes wrong, I’m cursing both of you."

Yuji laughed, slinging an arm over Sukuna’s shoulder, clearly unfazed by the threat. "It’s going to be great, Unc Sukuna! Trust me!"

Jin, still leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes? You’re actually going to do this, little brother? No more backing out?”

Sukuna slumped back on the couch, rubbing his temples. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... yeah. Fine. Let’s try it your way, Yuji."

Yuji fist-pumped the air, grinning ear to ear. "Yes! This is going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see their faces when you finally propose!"

Sukuna let out a deep sigh, glancing at Jin one last time. His older brother gave him an encouraging nod. What does he have left to lose? If anything, if it works — maybe you’ll laugh it off. And he…he likes seeing you smile anyway. What does he have left to lose?

“You’re overthinking it again, little brother.” Jin reminded him. “Just do it, hm? It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna could only hope his brother was right.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THE NEXT DAY, YOU DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GOING TO WORK. So, you had decided to stay lazily at home with Sukuna and just enjoy his day off together. Well, it worked out better considering that Sukuna informed your office you’ll be out for a while anyway. You happily hummed as you started making your cup of matcha milk for yourself. So far everything was well. In fact, the day had been going pretty normally. 

But then you could only blink at him when Sukuna, of all people, approached you in the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter. He looked... slightly awkward, which was unusual for him. His scarlet eyes darted away for a moment before landing back on you.

“Hey, baby….” he said, almost too casually. “You wanna come to Yuji’s football game tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the type to invite you to these things. Usually, Yuji was the one who asked, and then Sukuna would begrudgingly tag along, acting like he was too cool to care. But now, he was asking you directly?

“You’re asking me to go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And also….you wanna go?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Is that... a problem or something?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide your smile. “No, not at all. I’d love to go. It’s just... surprising coming from you. Usually, you wait until Yuji begs you to show up.”

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing just a bit. “Yeah, well... I’m gonna be more involved this time.”

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. “What do you mean? Like, are you finally going to cheer from the sidelines instead of pretending not to care?”

He looked away again, mumbling under his breath, “I’m coaching the team.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”

Sukuna shot you a look, already regretting this conversation. “You heard me. I’m gonna be their coach... for the game. Just a trial…..It’s just…. Maybe a one time thing.”

The shock only lasted a second before you burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The image of Sukuna, towering and intimidating, trying to coach a bunch of high school kids was just too much. It was all too much for you to think about your boyfriend. He crossed his arms on his chest like a little kid.

“Stop laughing.” he grumbled, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed.

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m just... I’m just imagining you barking orders at those poor kids like you do with your clients at the gym.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you, crossing his arms. “That’s not how I coach at the gym.”

“Oh really?” you teased, still giggling. “You’re not going to stand on the sidelines, yelling ‘Run faster, you idiot!’ and ‘Stop slacking off, sweat it off!’ like you do with your trainees?”

“Of course not, babe.” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips now. “Those brats won’t know what hit them.”

Your laughter continued, but now it was filled with genuine amusement. “I can’t wait to see this. You, coaching a bunch of teenagers, pretending to know anything about football. Oh, this will be gold, baby. I’m in!”

Sukuna groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not helping, you know.”

“I’m sorry baby.” you said, still grinning as you put a thumb up. “I just can’t picture it without laughing. But hey, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He grumbled under his breath again, but you could see the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’d better not laugh when you see me out there.”

“No promises here, baby.” you teased, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But I’ll be there, front and center, cheering you on.”

Ryomen Sukuna rolled his eyes, but the blush creeping up his neck told you everything you needed to know. Despite his gruff demeanor, he was secretly pleased. And maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous plan wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You know Yuji loves some good orange juice, so you brought cold packs of that in the cooler too. You supposed you could say that you were more excited than most. You had the full gear from their team and everything. It was something you requested from Sukuna and he got it for you before yesterday, when he got his own uniform. 

YOU DIDN’T SLEEP A WINK. But you couldn’t help it. You were too excited. The practices wee nice but each time you had to leave earlier for work. But this time, you got to have a full day just being there. These past few days, Sukuna's been in a gloom but he reassured you that its nothing. You wanted to press, but you knew your boyfriend too well to pry.

You were just one excited soul to be here. It was the tournament league now. And Yuji's team made it through the finals. You brought packs of snacks for you and Sukuna, some for the kids too in case their moms didn’t have anything on them. Some cold drinks too.

And now, you found yourself standing by the field, watching as Sukuna walked out with the team. The sun was brilliantly bright, and there was a decent crowd, mostly parents and students, filling the bleachers.

But your beaming eyes were glued to the unlikely sight before you: Ryomen Sukuna, your intimidating, tough-as-nails partner, now wearing a whistle around his neck and a deeply annoyed expression as he dealt with a bunch of teenage boys.

You could see precious Itadori Yuji bouncing around excitedly, clearly thrilled that Sukuna had agreed to coach. The rest of the team, however, seemed slightly nervous under Sukuna’s intense gaze.

Yuji’s two close friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, didn’t seem to care and were just playing with the balls and gloves, tossing to each other. But their nonchalant behavior was a stark contrast from everyone else. Some of them glanced back at you, probably wondering why this mountain of a man was suddenly in charge. But you don’t blame any of them. Your boyfriend did look imposing. 

Sukuna blew the whistle sharply, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing again. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant, his deep voice carrying across the field. “You—stop dragging your feet! Move it! You think this is a joke? Pick up the pace!”

You couldn’t help but lean against the fence, shaking your head with a smile. Well, you were right. It was exactly as you had imagined—Sukuna treating this football practice like a high-intensity training session at the gym. The kids were all scrambling around, trying their best not to get on his bad side.

After a particularly harsh instruction, you caught his scarlet eye from across the field. He gave you a look, clearly daring you to laugh, and you had to press your lips together to keep from cracking up. When you got it together, you started clapping and cheering for him. And for a moment, you could see a scarlet tint flush on your boyfriend’s cheek. That had made you smile.

During a water break, Yuji came jogging over, grinning from ear to ear. “How’s Unc Sukuna doing, Auntie? He’s totally killing it, right?”

You smiled and raised an eyebrow. “He’s certainly... in charge. The team looks a little terrified, though. Well, except Nobara and Megumi.”

Yuji chuckled, not even a little bit phased. “Yeah, but they’ll respect him. He’s making them work harder than our regular coach.”

You glanced back at Sukuna, who was currently standing with his arms crossed, scowling as one of the players asked him a question. He looked like he belonged in a weightlifting competition, not on a football field. Your boyfriend could have done so many things, you knew. But he said he got bored of it all, since people keep telling him what to do. But either way, your boyfriend would have ended up looking like this. This hunk of muscular muscle. 

“Well, as long as no one cries, I think it’ll be a success, Yuji!” you teased.

Yuji laughed and then leaned in closer. “So, do you think they suspect anything yet?”

You raised an eyebrow. You were confused. “About what?”

He gave you a mischievous look, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “You know... Uncle Sukuna’s plan. The proposal.”

You blinked, your smile fading as confusion washed over you. Wait, hold on. Was Yuji talking about Sukuna’s proposal to expand the gym? He’d been telling you about that for months now, outlining every detail, every plan. Surely Sukuna hadn’t forgotten.

“Wait. That’s today?” you asked, half-expecting to hear more about Sukuna's latest gym renovation idea. 

But something in Yuji’s expression didn’t quite fit the usual conversation. His grin widened, almost teasing. You suddenly had the sinking feeling you might not be on the same page at all. But just as you were going to go and talk to him about it, the whistle blew again, and the game began. Yuji saluted you and ran off to the field once again.

You tried to keep your eyes on the match, the sounds of cheers and the smack of fists hitting against gloves filling the air, but your mind was elsewhere. Sukuna’s plan. It kept creeping into your thoughts, pulling your focus away from the fight.

He had been working tirelessly on the gym expansion for months, meticulously coordinating every detail. The proposal with the contractor was a major step, one he had been looking forward to with a mix of excitement and that quiet intensity he always had when he wanted something done perfectly.

But now, you couldn’t shake the worry creeping up your spine. If Yuji’s casual comment about the proposal meant what you thought it did, then something had gone wrong. Sukuna must have missed the meeting with the contractor. Your boyfriend never missed important business meetings, especially not one like this, which was practically the culmination of weeks of hard work and planning. 

You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back to the field, but all you could think about was Sukuna. His sense of control, of always being on top of things—what could have possibly distracted him? And why hadn’t he told you? Maybe you could’ve reminded him or helped him juggle things better. 

Your stomach tightened with unease. Sukuna wasn’t the type to slip up like this, not unless something bigger was weighing on him. You’d seen the way he had been acting recently—distracted, quieter than usual, though he would shrug it off if you ever asked. Was this just about the proposal, or was there something else, something deeper he hadn’t shared yet?

As the game continued, it became even more intense, but not nearly as intense as the look Sukuna had on his face as he barked orders from the sidelines. You could see him glancing your way every now and then, his jaw set, his eyes determined. This was insane, even for a league of teenagers in middle school. But you suppose that’s what happens when you put your boyfriend to coach on the field.

As the game drew to a close, with Yuji’s team pulling off a narrow victory, you noticed Sukuna’s posture shift. He was still his usual composed self, but there was something nervous about the way he kept adjusting the whistle around his neck. He takes a moment for a breath. 

When the final whistle blew and the players began congratulating each other, Ryomen Sukuna called out to them. “Alright, listen up! Get over here. I’ve got something to say.”

The entire team gathered around him, and you stood at the edge of the field, your heart pounding as you watched the scene unfold. You could see Yuji trying (and failing) to hide his excitement as he joined the group. Everything about was making you feel like you were going to lose it.

Sukuna cleared his throat, looking oddly serious. “There’s someone here today who’s... important to me.”

The players exchanged confused glances, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realized he was talking about you.

Sukuna continued, his voice a little gruffer than usual. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’ve been trying really hard to make this happen. I really have been. And I just…I’ve been thinking, to hell with it. We might as well go through with it. Even if it's going to be too much and lame.” He shot a pointed look at Yuji, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel the eyes of the team turning toward you. Sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box from his pockets. He opened it and you could clearly see it. There was something small and shiny inside of it. 

“This…..” he said, holding up the ring for everyone to see. “ This is what I’ve been working up the nerve to do for months.”

The entire field went dead silent. The team, the parents in the stands—everyone was watching.

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, all the tough, intimidating layers seemed to peel away. He stepped toward you in the bleachers, his beautiful face softening as he held the ring in his hand.

“I’m not good at speeches. Or, apparently, proposals.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but smile through the nerves. “But I know one thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The world seemed to blur around you as Sukuna knelt down, holding out the ring. “So, what do you say?”

Your heart swelled as you took in the sight of him—this fierce, stubborn man who had somehow, in his own awkward way, found the perfect moment. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as you whispered the only answer you could give.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, with Yuji practically jumping up and down as the team whooped and clapped. Sukuna stood, slipping the ring onto your finger, and pulled you into a tight embrace, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “Told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

You laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “It was more than perfect.”

Ryomen Sukuna grinned, leaning down to kiss you as the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Everything about the past? That didn’t matter at all now. Because all this, this is what mattered. After all that you both went through, after all that happens — everything was well. Because he was going to marry you. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

As Sukuna pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours, the cheers and whistles from the crowd surrounded you both. Yuji, of course, was the loudest, pumping his fists in the air and hyping up the team, who were now clapping and laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

“Unc Sukuna’s engaged!” Yuji shouted, jumping onto the field. “Best day ever!”

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, your face flushed and your heart still racing, meeting Sukuna’s gaze. His scarlet eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of a whirlwind of noise and celebration. He took your hand, where the ring sat on your finger and placed a small kiss upon it. You grew even more flustered.

Sukuna sighed, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

You chuckled, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Believe it. You just proposed in front of an entire football team.”

He groaned slightly, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope. But I love that you did it.”

His arms tightened around you for a moment before he pulled back, glancing at the team who were still buzzing with excitement. He gave them a half-hearted glare. “Alright, enough gawking. Get off the field. We still have a game to win.”

The boys quickly scattered, though you could see the smirks and murmurs they exchanged as they left. Megumi and Nobara were snickering at how soft their coach Sukuna was looking at you. Your nephew Yuji, of course, was the last one standing there, grinning like an idiot.

“So, Unc Sukuna,” Yuji said, nudging his uncle’s arm. “How’d it feel to propose in front of an audience? Pretty cool, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a deadpan look. “Brat, don’t think I’ve forgotten this was your idea.”

Yuji only grinned wider, completely unfazed. “But it worked! Look at that ring! And look at auntie’s face!” He pointed to you, beaming. “You guys are the cutest engaged couple ever!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yuji, stop embarrassing your uncle.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’ve been spending too much time around Gojo, I swear to god.” he muttered under his breath, glancing at Yuji with mock annoyance. “I better tell your dad to never let you back in Fushiguro’s house.”

Yuji just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just a romantic at heart. I love seeing love win!”

Before Sukuna could retaliate, his elder brother Jin appeared from the sidelines, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder. “See? I told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, shooting Jin a look. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you were right.”

Jin raised an amused brow. “Guess?”

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna grumbled, a reluctant smirk forming. “You were right.”

Jin grinned. “That’s more like it. And for what it’s worth, little brother, you pulled it off pretty damn well. Look at that, you’re getting married. I’m so proud of you, hm?”

Sukuna grunted, still not entirely comfortable with the praise, but you could see the tension slowly leave his body. He wasn’t one to bask in sentimental moments, but for this one, he was letting himself enjoy it. 

“Thanks….big brother.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go back to the bleachers. Kaori’s gonna get lonely.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s meet down here so we can have dinner together.”

Jin grinned. “Oh, you’re paying tonight?”

“Oh, don’t think too far like that, big brother.”

Yuji, still full of energy, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright! Since you two are officially engaged, I think it’s time we celebrate!”

You glanced at Sukuna, who rolled his eyes but didn’t object. “Sure, why not?” he said with a shrug. “But I’m picking the place. No weird restaurants.”

Yuji pouted. “But there’s this ramen shop Gojo–sensei recommended—”

“No.” Sukuna said flatly, his tone brooking no argument.

You smiled, leaning into Sukuna’s side. “Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.”

Sukuna looked down at you, a rare warmth softening the usual intensity of his gaze. His voice, normally edged with authority, held a surprising tenderness. “I’ll think of something. Now go on. Go finish the game.”

You turned toward Yuji, who was standing there, clearly wanting to argue. “But unc—” he started, but Sukuna cut him off before he could finish.

“I said go!” Sukuna’s voice, firm but not unkind, sent Yuji running back to the field, his frustration bubbling over as he shouted, “It’s not fair!”

You watched Yuji dash off, his protests lost in the sound of his feet pounding the grass, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. He had always been full of energy, bouncing between enthusiasm and impatience, and Sukuna loved to tease him for it—though Yuji never seemed to take it lightly.

Turning back to your fiancé, you shot him a playful pout. “Must you tease him so much? He did help you propose, you know?”

Sukuna exhaled, a faint sigh escaping him as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Eh, He can handle a little teasing.”

You tilted your head, studying Sukuna’s face. Even though his words were casual, there was a deeper affection in them, one that wasn’t always so visible. Yuji, in his own way, had been a part of your lives, and you knew Sukuna cared for him more than he’d ever let on. But Sukuna’s way of showing love was always layered with a bit of roughness, teasing, and challenges—he never made things too easy, even for those closest to him.

“He’s just a kid,” you murmured, leaning into him, your pout softening as you placed your hands on his chest. “He looks up to you, you know.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Yeah, well, he should know by now I’m not gonna go easy on him.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your pout. “Maybe try cutting him some slack next time. You can’t torment him every time he tries to help.”

“Torment?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Come on, he loves it.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward the field, where Yuji was back in action, still muttering something under his breath. “Besides, if I didn’t push him, who would?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving his chest a playful shove. “Alright, alright. But don’t be too hard on him. He really did come through for us.”

Sukuna’s expression softened again, and he gave you a knowing look. “I know. I’ll make it up to him.”

As you both watch Jin go back to the bleachers with Kaori, you feel your fiance's arms wrap around you. Your hands intertwined and on top of his hand, was your own. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger, your heart swelling with happiness. 

Ryomen Sukuna had surprised you—more than you ever thought he would. And while it hadn’t been a grand, romantic gesture in a traditional sense, it had been perfect in the most Sukuna way possible. Unconventional, slightly chaotic, but undeniably heartfelt.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter 1: The Manuscript

“He thought about how they said-

Since she was wise beyond her years everything had been above board. Now he wasn’t sure…”

series masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance?

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n’s (I’m sorry, I know I’m sick of it too.), fake marriage, possibly eventual smut in later parts we’ll see, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything! And as always, lemme know what you think!

wordcount: 1.3k

“The professor said the write what you know”

Spencer sat at his desk, anxiously scribbling away at a case file that he knew he simply wasn’t ready to hand over just yet. Not ready to let go or say goodbye. The office was deserted with the exception of Emily still fussing around in her office like she always was these days, just like Hotch before her, and Gideon before him. Back in the days when he was the youngest member of the team— god how things had changed.

“Looking backward might be the only way to move forward-”

six months prior:

"Come on, Em. She’s too young. I’d hardly say she has any real-life experience, and as helpful as she’s been, she certainly doesn’t have the field experience. And you want to drop her into an undercover operation at a university thousands of miles away? I just can’t logically wrap my mind around how you think this is our best option,” Spencer sighed, anxiously pacing the length of Emily’s office. Maybe it was the lights, but more likely it was the outlandish plans being laid before him that were bringing on the all-too-familiar throb of a migraine.

Emily cleared her throat, glancing up at Spencer with a tight-lipped, not-quite smile. “If you would let me finish, I wouldn’t be sending her alone. I’d be sending her with you. The unsub—or rather, unsubs—are targeting couples where the man,” she pointed to him, eyes widening as if to say keep up, “in the relationship comes from a position of power above the woman.” She wildly waved her hand toward the door, motioning to the woman sitting just outside the office.

“You’d be posing as a professor, which technically isn’t anything new for you. Though we might have to rub a little dirt on your good name.” She shrugged, glancing back down to shuffle through the pile of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for, holding it out for Spencer. “A handsome professor and his new, albeit young, ex-TA of a wife... forced to move after your relationship went public. Tragic.” She quirked a brow, offering Spencer a playful smirk. He did not return it, instead rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the file containing what could be his life for the next couple of months.

“Look, if we place you both at the university, she’ll fit in with the students, you’ll fit in with the professors, and now we have eyes and ears everywhere we need them. It’s logical enough, Spencer, and she’s already agreed as long as you’re up for it.”

There was a long pause as Spencer’s mind ran wild, figuring the probability of everything that could and likely would go wrong if he agreed to this plan.

“Look, we’ll even count this towards thirty days of teaching if that sweetens the deal at all?” Prentiss let out an exhausted sigh. Clearly, this was her only option, and everyone else, even the higher-ups, had approved this plan. It all now sat on Spencer’s shoulders. All he needed to do was agree.

“Fine…” he mumbled, his palm digging into his eye socket briefly trying to dull the growing pain behind his eyes. If Prentiss noticed, she chose not to address it. “Great! See, maybe it’ll be good for you? The faculty housing looks nice-ish..? And you’ve gotta admit, Y/N is sweet. I think she’ll learn a lot from you.”

Before Emily could finish her statement, Spencer turned on his heels, stalking out of the Unit Chief's office past the probie, her doe eyes fixed on him like he was a predator. Her gaze startled him in a way that sent him tripping over his own feet. He quickly righted himself, not daring to glance back at the younger agent on his way to the kitchenette.

An hour and several cups of coffee later, Spencer Reid found himself at the round table, sitting perfectly still as his breath caught in his lungs, watching the young woman in front of him sign her name on the dotted line. It’s official; Doctor Spencer Reid is officially a married man—sort of.

It felt so absurd, having to sign a marriage license. Though, logically, he understood. If they were using Spencer’s name and reputation as a backbone for this assignment, there should be a paper trail. At least when it came to this, he knew Penelope could fabricate anything and everything else they might need, but this silly piece of paper, declaring them man and wife—that was free and public information that needed to be real.

“So…” Y/N's voice was soft as it attempted to cut through the heavy weight of the awkward atmosphere. She fidgeted, tapping the pen against the table.

Spencer cleared his throat, eyes raking over her as the voice in his head told him once again that this was an awful idea, that she was too young, that she had no field experience, and there were far too many ways this could all go south. He tried his best to shake them off. “If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t mean this to be rude. I was a young agent—actually one of the youngest agents the BAU has ever had—” he caught himself in his ramble, his eyes searching her face for any kind of discomfort before blinking harder than necessary in an attempt to focus. “Sorry—uh, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ll be twenty-five in October… so twenty-four.”

"Right..." he chuckled, shaking his head, "that means...w-when you were born I already had two PhDs and was nearly finished with my third."

She groaned, a slight blush covering her cheeks as she fought the embarrassed grin threatening to take over her lips. “Doctor Reid—”

“Spencer.” He cut her off, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I—Uh… you can just call me Spencer. I don’t think couples typically use such formality when they’re addressing each other…”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, offering a little nod. “Spencer,” his name felt too personal on her lips, “I—” a rosy blush creeping up her neck as her mind went completely blank, every thought she’d ever had lost in the warm glow of his golden eyes.

As if on cue, Emily entered the room, a smirk on her lips as she observed the younger, seemingly awestruck agent gawking at her favorite genius. “Hope I’m not interrupting, but I thought these might be useful?” She shrugged, placing a velvet box down beside Spencer before sliding the other across the table to fall into the younger woman’s lap. “Congratulations. I now pronounce you man and wife or whatever they say—beware, Penelope is likely going to throw rice or glitter or whatever she found in her desk at you as you walk out of this room. You’ve been warned. And I’d say kiss the bride, but frankly, I don’t want to see that. Wheels up in thirty.”

With that, she offered the new couple a nod before retreating back out of the conference room, back to her office, leaving them to open the velvet boxes. The rings were simple, nothing too flashy, like something you’d expect a professor to be able to afford without breaking the bank.

“Right…” Spencer said, sliding his own ring onto his finger before rising to his feet, his fingers awkwardly clenching and flexing at the unfamiliar weight. “Maybe if we don’t leave together, Garcia won’t ambush us.” He turned towards the door, hesitating a moment to glance back at the woman he could now call his wife. “Unless—unless you’re ready to go… we could, uh, head out together?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Y/N nodded quickly, jumping to her feet as she organized the pile of papers back into their folders and into her bag. She crossed the room, stopping beside Spencer. She glanced up at him, her own ring feeling heavy on her finger as she hesitantly reached out, offering him her hand. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between her waiting palm and her eyes before reluctantly accepting the offer.

“Shall we, Mrs. Reid?”

“Now and then he re-reads the manuscript. Of the entire torrid affair~”

Chapter II: Guilty as Sin

Thanks for being interested in my silly little concept 🩵

@flowerpott1978 @olives-and-sunshine

[cricket-of-the-hill]

So what's the deal with Fiddleford McGucket? Why's he like that?

Fiddleford as a character is so FUN because he's so complicated and tragic and honestly a little pathetic. On one hand you have this absolutely brilliant scientist with the potential to have been the in universe Steve Jobs who figured out that the universe is a hologram and built an honest to betsy transdimensional portal (with Ford's help, yes, but let's be honest: as mathematically brilliant as Ford was, I think his intelligence laid more in the theoretical side of things, really doubt he could have actually built the portal himself).

On the other hand, we have this man who up and leves his FAMILY to chase after a college friend who calls him one day saying "hey, I'm out in Oregon building a portal to another dimension. Little help?" and he doesn't even think twice before being like "bet" and getting his ass to Oregon. And even if you take in the context clues that things weren't going well with his marriage before he left (as pieced together by the brilliant @divorcedfiddleford in this post), he still had his son and McGucket Computermajigs and he just sets all that aside for this guy, which... 😶

I am gonna write this whole post on the assumption that Fiddleford was in love with Ford, but look, even if that's the case it doesn't make any of his actions less unhinged. Break here, because the post gets kinda long 😶‍🌫️

So here's the thing: in the fandom, it's fun to think that Fidds knew about Bill and they had some sort of taunting rivalry/love triangle thing going on and that's really fun to mess with, but FIDDLEFORD HAD NO IDEA ABOUT BILL. Ford never told him! So even if Fidds leaves California thinking he's gonna have his hot girl summer/queer arthouse romcom where he reconnects with the love of his youth and they spend the summer working in this secluded house in the woods where they can finally live out their romance, what he actually gets is a fucking psychological horror thriller where the guy he loves and is kinda trapped with is either slowly going insane or straight up getting possessed.

Now, all that is 😵‍💫 enough, but it gets worse because instead of doing the normal person thing and getting the hell out of Dodge, Fiddleford stays. He continues to help Ford to build the portal despite how weird the other man is getting, he continues to go cryptid hunting even after the nightmare goblin almost eats him, even if Ford clearly doesn't appreciate the work he does (research assistant? Not even partner? Come on), and never reciprocates the kind of gestures Fidds has towards him (like the infamous double Christmas gift bonanza).

Here's where the duality of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket kicks in: the thing is that he is incredibly brave in some ways and obviously really smart but also kind of a coward and an idiot when it comes to his relationships with others. He'll hit Thee Krampus upside the head with his banjo one day to save his friend and run away to Oregon instead of discussing divorce with this wife the next. He will leave everything he knows to pursue this one guy, but he will never ever ever confess to feeling anything other than friendship towards him. He'll put up with Stanford's creepy as all hell behavior but will never confront him about it even as Ford loses more and more of himself into his project (so no little intervention not even to help this man he's giving so much up for). Like, what was he expecting to get out of all this? If he was never planning to confess to Ford or leave his wife, what was he going to do once the portal was completed? Just keep on bouncing between wherever Ford went next and his family? Did he really think his wife and son wouldn't mind him leaving them behind without so much as a thought?

Operating under the assumption that Fiddleford is a closeted queer guy from rural Deep Down South Hillbilly County Tennessee (said with love, I'm also from the south, but we all know what homophobia looks like here) during the '80s (height of the aids pandemic which would have made everything worse) one can maybe understand why Fiddleford is like that. Why he is so so so afraid and why he ultimately chooses to erase his memories rather than just go back to his family.

So picture this: you are in love with your best friend but you can't tell him 'cause best case scenario he leaves you out to dry and worst case scenario maybe someone finds your boots down by the river and lets your parents know (and we know Ford is sweet and fruity himself and with a thing for outcasts and would never. Fiddleford probably knows that himself, but let me tell you that when you grow up with that fear it goes deep. Because you've most likely seen people who are kind get absolutely bent out of shape when confronted with the mere idea of someone like you existing in their near vicinity). Eventually, you get married and have a son because that is what you were supposed to do all along and even though you love your son and maybe even love your wife everything feels wrong. They expect you to be something you are not, you can never let your guard down, never be yourself, not even in your own home. So then that call comes and it's like a golden thicket: you can leave, give it a rest for a little while, go see your friend, stretch out those inventing muscles.

As much as the fandom clowns him for it, I honestly don't even think he went out there with the intention of cheating (emotionally or otherwise). BUT I do think he was hoping something would happen. It's just that it all depended on Ford taking that first step because Fidds sure as hell wouldn't. And then Ford didn't because he was too busy doing the sin cos tan with his trigonometry homework, but if he had, we could have had a brokenback mountain situation on our hands, lads. Then Fiddleford could have just gone along with it, and done all sorts of mind parkour to convince himself that that's somehow less bad than "outright" cheating on his wife.

So he gets to the cabin, right? And maybe things are good for a little while, like when they were in college. Fiddleford lets loose a little, Ford is happy with the company, they're friends! And I get the sense that they're the kind of friends that mesh really well, like their energies really match. As much as the fandom paints Fiddleford like a sweet cinnamon roll, that man is also a freak. He's out here building psychotic post divorce revenge pterodactyl robots and drinking abducted cow milk just to see what it's like. He's a bit unhinged! He and Ford are the two people in the world that can be like "I think the universe is a hologram." "Cool! Let's prove it mathematically, bro" and "I want to build a portal to another dimension. Just cause." "Catching a ride to your place with my toolbox as we speak, buddy." (My own personal head cannon is that Fiddleford didn't really become such a shaky jelly until the nightmare goblin got him. Like, he was never as adventurous as Ford, but I think before that particular traumatizing event he was all right for it).

Anyways, things are good for a bit, but the real world is still out there. Fiddleford has to make trips home every now and then, and every time he comes back it seems like something is different. A little off. At first it's nothing big, just a smile a little sharper than usual, a coldness in a look, Ford calling him "Specs" where before he was always a variation of his name. Then it's pointed comments that Fidds chalks up to a lack of sleep (is Ford even sleeping at all? Because he could have sworn for the past three nights he he has appeared in the same place Fidds left him when he went to sleep). Then it's a flash of yellow eyes, a maniacal laugh that Ford never used to make before, spells where he seemingly forgets how to use his body (bumps into things, tries to drink soda with his eyes?). As time goes on it starts to become more and more obvious that something is seriously wrong with this friend. And things back home are just getting worse and worse, Emma May isn't happy about Fiddleford skipping town so often, Tate wont stop asking for him, and look, was Fiddleford even making money while he was with Ford? He gettin' paid? Is Emma May back home trying to bring home the bacon while virtually single parenting? (How was Ford even supporting himself while studying anomalies? I can't imagine there's a lot of grants for that.)

But Fiddleford can't leave his friend and he can't really own up to how much messier things are at home because of this whole thing. So he keeps coming back to Gravity Falls, where he also can't really face up to Ford and either demand a clear answer as to what is going on or try to get him some help (an exorcist, maybe). Because if he does say something and Ford decides that he doesn't want Fiddleford around asking questions he's gonna have to go back home where after the Christmas thing he's honestly not sure he's really wanted anymore, not really sure he deserves it if he still was. So he keeps on doing his thing, telling himself "this is fine 🙂," while he sits in a room on fire with a bill-possessed Ford hanging from the ceiling like a spider and an disapproving Emma May looking in through a window.

I think the portal incident was what finally opened his eyes to the reality of his situation, in an ironic way. He destroyed his relationship with his wife and left his son for nothing. Left his own dreams and aspirations aside just to find out that when push comes to shove his opinion and well-being matter so little to this man he was ready to break the laws of physics for. He can't stay with Ford, and he sure as hell can't go back home, because that would mean having to face that he's done burned down all his bridges. So where do you go from there? Let me tell you, if I had the chance to forget the lowest, most selfish, stupid thing I did for a person who didn't even notice it, I'd do it in a second.

[milkteasweetheart]

『just like heaven, introduction』

this part contains the introduction.

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「introduction: dire crowley (derogatory)」

It’s not a very peaceful evening.

It started with Crowley’s bright idea of a bonding experience. That is, gather the students that overblotted (and the overworked, underpaid regular joe that got dragged into solving them) and spritz a potion that will make them see each others dreams. What kind of logic does this birdbrain operate on?

“It will help you understand each other, which will reduce conflict! And since I am oh so generous, I’ve already brewed the potion required for this occasion.”

(Y/N) had the strong feeling that Crowley just wanted to get rid of the problem of overblotting the easy way, instead of actually getting help for the housewardens (and Jamil).

When asked how it works, Crowley talked in circles to the point that it’ll be easier to just go with whatever bullshit he’s come up with instead of pulling teeth any further.

So, that leads to the Ramshackle’s lounge. Grim had willingly left to spend the night in Heartslabyul with (Y/N)’s best buddies, Ace and Deuce. “I don’t wanna hang out with those weirdos! I got better things to do!” She could only hope he’d behave for the sake of Trey.

The rocking chair and coffee table had been pushed away next to the walls to make room for the beds Malleus had kindly summoned. (Y/N) will definitely ask him if she could keep one. They’re very comfortable.

After making supper with the aid of Jamil (and Azul, who butted in, which caused Jamil to glare side-eye daggers at him) and Vil, who wanted to oversee the process to assure the food they made was healthy. Before embarking on this culinary mission, (Y/N) had tasked Riddle to distract Leona from picking a fight with Malleus so that Ramshackle could be spared for another day. Riddle had seemed excited for some reason, and took his mission seriously after giving a small, blushy nod. 

「Riddle: The prefect trusts me to keep peace. I won’t disappoint!」

The meal went by… strangely. Jamil and Azul kept slipping each other snide remarks, and so did Leona and Malleus. (Y/N) had long considered carrying around a spray bottle, and these people did not help the growing need for it. Idia wisely stayed out of it. His strategy to survive the night was to keep his mouth shut and avoid conversation with anyone else other than the prefect. When Riddle attempted to make conversation, Vil would change the subject. When Riddle eventually managed to hijack (Y/N)' attention, Vil looked at him with a freezing stare.

「Vil: Foolish ventriloquist doll potato. She's got better things to talk about.」

Despite the tension, Ramshackle had not fallen, and so the headmage descended upon them with a potion in a fancy perfume bottle.

“What are the ingredients in this, if I may ask?” Vil sensibly asked the incredibly suspicious headmage, who skillfully evaded the question with the command for the students to get comfortable.

Each of the overblotted students were confident that their dreams were not that bad. Sure, letting others see what they desired wasn’t ideal, but they can surely control what they’ll see, right? Right. 

[absurdthirst]

Hollywood Happiness {Dieter Bravo x Actress!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: 1950's Hollywood AU, mentions of homophobia, sex clubs, hedonism, threesomes, bisexuality, orgies, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, secret relationship, secret marriage, hidden pregnancy, labor, mentions of forced abortions, traumatic births

Comments: Hired by the studio to be Dieter Bravo's co-star, you are also tasked with taming Hollywood's bad boy and keep the negative press away. Do that, and the studio will green light your passion project. Easy enough, until you fall for Dieter and end up pregnant.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter looks up from his script, his cigarette dangling between his lips until he reaches up to take it in between his fingers. His eyes appraising you as you walk in to meet him for the first time. His new co-star and the woman that’s going to be his leading lady. This motion picture is moodier, romance with a tragic ending. No dance numbers. No songs. It's a drama and what Dieter has been craving for so long. One can only tapdance in so many numbers until they can demand something more serious. This is his follow up to his Oscar win so he needs it to be good. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He says as he stands up, setting his script down to take your hand in his and press a soft kiss to the back of it. He’s hoping you aren’t one of those virginal, angelic actresses who has never seen cocaine or a naked man before. He doesn’t need to be babying you throughout this process. He wants to enjoy the production and be able to be himself…well, mainly himself. Rock walks by on his way to his own production and winks at Dieter, a shared look between “good friends” and Dieter smiles at him before turning his attention back to you. “So…what’s your story?” He asks, knowing everyone has one.

You know all about Dieter Bravo, apprised of it by the studio and exactly what you need to do in order to keep the head man happy where his star was concerned. Dieter has a problem. Nasty rumors seemed to follow him around, although it was all hearsay and the studio wanted it nipped in the bud yesterday. Dieter was rumored to be enjoying too many drugs and there are the scandalous rumors about wild orgies involving both sexes. You were brought in to make sure those rumors are squashed and their star was kept busy and out of trouble, with you. Smiling, you bat your lashes at the handsome man. “My story is one that you’ve probably heard a hundred times.” You titter slightly. “But I also have a script that I want the studio to film.” 

Dieter raises his eyebrows, surprised that you aren’t the usual Hollywood starlet they grab from some podunk town, operate on to transform them, and ensure that they have but one brain cell so they can learn their lines and blocking. You don’t seem to be the vapid, stupid actress he encounters. “A script? Perhaps you can enlighten me on the plot? Maybe I’ll be your lead one day.” He winks, noticing how pretty your eyes are and he briefly wonders what they’d look like watery while you suck his cock.

You smirk slightly and bite your lip. “It would take much too long to explain now.” You tell him. “Perhaps I can detail it to you over dinner?” You boldly ask, willing to take the opportunity to get closer to Dieter, hoping that you impress him with your boldness. 

He can’t stop the smirk that appears on his face, liking your moxie. You’re not shy and he enjoys that. He licks his lips and steps closer to you, “name the time and place, sweetheart. I’ll be there.” He promises, leaning down to snub out his smoke. He needs to change, dressing in his day suit, the one that he’s worn far too many times that the lining has holes in it but damn, it’s comfortable, and his sunglasses are perched on his head.

“Cole’s, 7 o’clock.” You insist, placing your hand on his chest and rubbing gently. “Bring a big appetite, we might close the place down.” You flirt, winking at him and then leaning in slightly to give Dieter a look down your dress.

Fuck, his cock twitches at the thought and he loves how you seem to be confident in what you want. That’s what’s been missing in other actresses he’s met. So many of them wanted to appear innocent and demure. You are sexy and he loves that. “See you at seven, baby doll.” He winks, licking his lower lip until he’s flipping his sunglasses down, “I better get to reading this script, be prepared for filming.” He says, knowing he is tempted to stay but he likes to keep a little mystery.

You watch Dieter saunter away, confident and sure as he greets other actors and actresses. You bite your lips, finding him far more interesting than you had imagined when you accepted the contract terms. Not that you had much choice if you wanted to be on screen. The studios make all the rules and you just follow them. You turn to walk towards costuming so you can be fitted to your wardrobe as the leading lady of this drama.

Dieter adjusts his evening jacket as he walks in Cole’s, the room already buzzing with conversation and the band playing in the corner. He tells the maitre d his name and he’s escorted to the private booths in the back. People look up as he walks by and he offers them a charming smile but inside he’s anxious, hating eyes on him. He swallows harshly and sits down at the booth, thanking the host who nods and leans in, “you were incredible in Hunger Strike.” He says and Dieter smiles, “thank you.” 

The man reaches into his pocket for his card and slides it to Dieter, “I’d like to show you how great I thought you were.” He murmurs and Dieter looks up at him with a smirk, “we can arrange that.” He promises with a wink and slides the card into his pocket. The man grins and walks off, Dieter watching his ass until the waiter comes over to take his drinks order.

Before you walk into the restaurant, you pull out your compact and powder your nose, checking your lipstick and hair. You are about to walk in and give the host Dieter’s name so you can actually get closer to the actor. “Be charming.” You remind yourself as you open the door and walk inside, aware that you were going to be photographed tonight.

Dieter stands up when you approach his table, a friendly smile on his face, and he takes your hand in his to press a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby doll.” He says, his eyes sliding along your figure and he gestures for you to sit.

“Thank you.” Your brow raises and you smirk slightly as you sit down with a clear view for Dieter down your cleavage and hum. “I have to say that the rumored charm of Dieter Bravo has not disappointed.”

He smirks as he takes his seat, picking up his whiskey, “glad to hear I don’t disappoint.” He flirts softly, knowing he’s walking a fine line when you are to be his costar for the next year. “So…who’d you fuck to get the job?” He half teases, half tests. He wonders if you’re someone looking to step on his head to get up the ladder or if you’re just that good of an actress.

You snort playfully and roll your eyes. “Who should I tell you? The director or the producer? Maybe both?” You joke and lean in. “Or maybe I got the roll on my acting skills alone? Is that the unbelievable story?” The waiter delivers a whiskey on the rocks. You order a neat whiskey with a lemon twist and smirk when the waiter rushes off, looking back at Dieter for his answer.

“Ain’t no shame in it, honey. Lord knows I’ve fucked enough people to get ahead in this business. I haven’t seen you act so I can’t say which story is the true one. Perhaps when we get on set I can ascertain which one is the reality but in the meantime, I’m gonna jerk off thinking of you getting split roasted by the director and producer.” He smirks, knowing you’ll think he’s scandalous.

You gasp, giving him the appropriate response that he is looking for. You know that he expects you to be offended, but you also know that he will be intrigued if you weren’t. Your lips twist into a smug smirk. “Isn’t that the only way to properly take two cocks?” You ask, picking up his own whiskey and taking a small sip of the liquor. “Maybe I will have to satisfy myself thinking about that tonight.”

Dieter chuckles, dirty and drawn out, and he smirks as he leans closer to you, reaching for your hand. “It appears we are going to get along just fine, baby. Tell me, have you ever been to an orgy before?” He asks, curious to see how dirty you truly are.

You tut and swat at his shoulder with your free hand playfully. “A lady never tells.” You hum and lift an eyebrow suggestively. “Discretion is the name of the game when you have fun with special friends.”

Dieter slides his foot across the floor to slide against yours, a devious grin on his face. “I can tell you and I are going to get along famously.” He hums, picking up his whiskey just as the waiter brings yours over. You order your food not long after and you and Dieter discuss the script for a bit, expanding your thoughts on your characters and the needed chemistry. “Forgive me if I speak too boldly but I think we have the chemistry down.” Dieter hums.

“I don’t think that is too bold.” You slide your foot out of your heel and rub it against his ankle. “Sometimes you just instantly know that you are going to fit well with someone.” You have flirted with him outrageously all night, but there have been some interesting conversations about the script that impressed you. Dieter is more than just a pretty face, there is a smart intellect behind those mischievous eyes.

“How do you fancy coming to a party tonight? My friend is throwing a shindig. Apparently Dean will be singing tonight.” He says and your eyes widen.

“Dean Martin?” You ask and he nods, “the one and only. Whatcha say, baby doll? Wanna come check out the Hollywood parties with me?”

How could you possibly say no to that? An evening with the top Hollywood stars? It’s exactly what you wanted and it could allow you to form some key friendships down the line. It’s not what you know in Hollywood, it’s who you know. “I say you should get the check.” You tease, biting your lip.

Dieter grins, gesturing for the waiter to come over and he quickly hands over the cash needed to pay the bill and then some. The waiter winks at him, “don’t forget to find me again.” He says and Dieter nods, “I’ll be sure to reach out.” He smirks and offers you his arm to guide you out of the restaurant and to his awaiting car.

“Are you sure that I’m the one you want to spend tonight with?” You ask as the porter opens the passenger side to allow you to step in.

Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes, “are you fucking serious, baby? Look at you, you’re goddamn gorgeous. I’m gonna be the envy of everyone in the joint.” He assures you after he slides into the seat beside you.

You hum happily and turn so you can brush one of his curls back. “I will be the one getting the envious looks.” You coo. “I’ll be with the sexiest man there. Maybe anywhere.”

Dieter leans into your touch, almost purring as you scratch his scalp. “Fuck. Keep doing that, baby.” He pleads, his hand finding your thigh to squeeze. You’re something different and he loves it.

His plea for such an innocent touch is very revealing and you tuck it away for future speculation. “Touch a gorgeous man? My pleasure.” You assure him, keeping your hand in his hair as you lean close and kiss his cheek. “Drive baby and I’ll make you feel good.”

He nearly closes his eyes as he drives down Sunset Boulevard to the club he frequents. He pulls up and the valet takes the vehicle, opening the door for him and Dieter makes a show of rounding the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out towards you. “Welcome to Ciros.” Dieter days as he guides you inside.

Your eyes widen at the glitz and glamour of the exclusive club. “Dieter.” You gasp, clinging to him as you take it all in. Cary Grant is over in one corner, playing billiards with Jimmy Stewart, drinks on the edge of the table.

Dieter grins, loving how in awe you are of the club and he is happy you are enjoying it already. He knows he loves seeing all his fellow actors enjoying themselves and the back of the club is his particular favorite thing about this place. “You wanna get a drink?” Dieter asks, leaning in close so his lips brush your ear.

You turn towards him, so your lips are almost touching. “Whiskey, with a twist.” You tell him, looking into his lovely light brown eyes that seem to hold a thousand secrets. “Or whatever you want me to drink.”

“You have what you want to have.” He says and guides you to a booth in the back. He shuffles in and calls over the waitress, his eyes dipping down to her cleavage as he orders your drinks.  His arm is thrown over the back of the booth, his fingers playing with the strap of your dress as he leans towards you.

“So tell me about Dieter Bravo.” You coo as you run a finger down the smooth line of his jaw. “The real Dieter, not the persona”

He smirks, “the persona is the Hollywood golden boy. The real Dieter? He’s a dirty bastard. I love sex. Men, women. Both. I love sex and I love pleasure. I take drugs to numb the pain of being alone and I’m alone because I take drugs. I’m a typical Hollywood disaster and my manager and the studio desperately want me to settle and be a good boy, but that’s not me.”

“You should be you.” You pout at him, although you really mean your words. He should be free to be who he wants to be. Leaning in and kissing his chin. “Love who you want, fuck who you want.”

Dieter snorts, reaching up with his free hand to gently grip your chin, “it’s the 50’s. No one can truly be who they want to be. I couldn’t love a man, or publicly announcing that I’m fucking one. My career would be over. Just like you couldn’t be known to be anything but a perfect angelic virgin. It’s the social standard so we smile and wave and pretend but at night, we crawl to our dens of dissolute and allow ourselves the pleasures we deny during the daylight hours. It’s the life we lead and it’s fine.” He promises, leaning in to softly kiss your lips, “you understand, don’t you baby?”

Your heart aches because you know that he’s telling the truth. “I understand.” You whisper quietly, nodding as you break the kiss. “Though I believe in being happy, as much as you can be.” Hopefully he will find happiness around you and that will make your assignment easier.

He nods, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. “We can be happy tonight if you want.” He pulls back when the waiter sets the drinks down and he pulls a note from his wallet to hand it to him. When he leaves, he turns back to you, “there’s a private area in the back. Men and women…all for our pleasure. Do you want to explore with me?” Dieter asks, raising his eyebrows with hopefully eyes while he bites his lip.

You know that the studio would prefer that he not go back to the back, but you can’t deny him. “Do you want to be split roasted or do you want to be on the giving end of split roasting me?” You ask, curious as to the answer he will give you.

Dieter’s eyebrows raise even more and he can’t stop the naughty grin that appears on his face. “Well, Jesus Christ, you are a naughty little girl.” He teases and leans in to softly kiss your ear, “I want to be on the giving end with you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how tight and wet your little cunt must be so if you want me, baby doll, I wanna fuck you and have some help to ensure you leave here high on pleasure.”

He smirks, cock already hardening, and he nods, picking up his glass to clink it against yours. “I say we better drink up and get back there.” He winks and downs the whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table then he shuffles out of the booth and holds his hand out towards you, “come on baby doll, let’s have some fun.”

You give him your hand and flash him a smile. “I’m ready to have fun with you.” You promise, biting your lip as he helps you to your feet. You curl into his embrace and look excited even though butterflies swim in your stomach.

Dieter guides you back through the throng of people and he knocks three times on the door, the peephole in the middle opens and finally the door is opened to the private rooms of the club. He winks at the doorman and takes your hand in his to guide you to the main room, full of men and women in various states of undress. Some kissing, some sucking, some fucking. It’s a den of desire and you don’t know where to look. “Okay?” Dieter asks, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

“There are private rooms. Let’s find a space in the observers and see who you wish to share your delicious cunt with.” Dieter suggests and guides you over to the lush seating area with large chairs. Dieter sits down and wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hand sliding along your stocking clad leg under your skirt, “you see anyone you like?” He murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

It’s hard to concentrate and look around the club as you enjoy his hand on your body. You shiver and hum speculatively as you manage to take a look at all the men and women that are milling around. You spot several famous faces and you bite your lip, cunt bottoming out when you see someone you have always admired pull off a robe and lay down on a table to let any and all touch her. You spot a man in the corner of the room, still dressed and watching as he sips a drink. “What about him?” You ask, turning and nudging your nose against Dieter’s cheek as you speak. “Have you fucked him? Does he have a nice cock?” 

Dieter smirks, “no. I haven’t. He’s nice though. Pensive. Moody. I like that. Those are the ones that fuck well. You wanna call him over?” Dieter asks, knowing the man will come over. You nod, catching the man’s eyes and you gesture for him to come over with a sultry smile. Dieter’s hand slides higher, “you excited to get fucked?” He hums into your ear, biting down on the lobe.

You moan softly, enjoying the sharp nip of his teeth. “Yes.” You admit breathlessly. “I’ve wondered what you were like in bed, watching you onscreen.” You might not have before, but it seems that he likes your answer.

The man gracefully makes his way through the gyrating crowd. Dieter pulls away from you, standing up to greet the man. "Lance." He greets the stunt man who he has seen around the studios. ‘"Bravo." He nods at Dieter, shaking his hand. 

"Have you two met?" Dieter asks, saying your name and the stunt man shakes his head. 

He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips, "I would definitely remember if I had met her." He winks at you after he stands up straight but keeps your hand in.

“Flatterer.” You tease, even though you find him even more handsome in person than you had from afar. “Can we buy you drink, Lance?” You ask playfully, looking over to Dieter for approval. “Have you sit down and discuss all manner of pleasurable things?” Dieter approves, the way he is leaning in to hear Lance’s answer is indicative of that.

Lance nods and Dieter gestures to the passing cocktail waitress. He orders your whiskey with a twist, his own tipple, and Lance orders a whiskey too. The waitress rushes off and Dieter shuffles down the couch, pulling you into his lap to show his possession of you while Lance sits beside you both. “So are you seeking here tonight?” Dieter asks Lance whose hand finds your knee. “I want you both.” Lance says, “I want to taste you, to fuck you.” He says and Dieter leans in to press his lips to Lance’s.

You should be discouraging the behavior that Dieter is displaying, that’s what the studio wants you to do, but you moan at the sight of the two men kissing. “Yes.” You whimper, sliding your hand into Lance’s lap and squeezing his hardening cock as you grind your as against Dieter’s. “Why don’t we find a private room?”

Lance pulls away from Dieter’s mouth to look at you, “let’s, but first.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours and Dieter groans as he watches the kiss, getting a little greedy as he surges forward to join the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours and Lance’s.

You’ve never had a kiss that involved three people but it’s intoxicating. Gasping, your tongue joins the fray and you enthusiastically kiss each of them as you massage Lance’s cock even more. You feel Dieter’s fingers pressing against your clit, making you whine softly, grinding against his hand for friction.

The kiss ends when Lance and Dieter pull back, their cocks aching, and Dieter looks up as the cocktail waitress appears, “thanks doll. We want a private room.” He says and she nods, taking the crisp bills he gives her and she tells you to follow her to the private room, she will take your drinks.

Standing, you smirk when both men need to adjust their cocks when they stand and you make sure that you sway your hips enticingly as you follow the waitress. You want both men to have their eyes fixed on your ass as they trail behind you. Feeling emboldened by their obvious lust, you walk into the private room eagerly and spin around to watch them walk on.

Dieter thanks the waitress when she sets the drinks down and she shuts the door behind her, the bed in the middle of the room is clean and made up, and there’s chairs and a small bathroom attached. “Now, where were we?” Dieter smirks, picking up his whiskey. 

“We were talking about pleasure.” Lance says and you smirk, fingering the buttons of your dress. “Are you gonna give us a show, baby girl?” Dieter asks, sitting down on the foot of the bed while Lance sits in the nearby chair.

You hadn’t anticipated stripping in front of them, but the excitement in Dieter’s eyes has you nodding, but you smirk slightly. “Both of you take something off first, then I will.” You tease, flicking open the first button of your dress and revealing more of your cleavage.

Dieter chuckles, liking your moxie again, and he shrugs off his jacket, working on his tie and the buttons of his shirt so he is shirtless, his slacks still on. Lance follows suit, shrugging off his blazer and he sits back down on the bed, his chiseled chest on display..

Dieter groans, his fingers twitching at how gorgeous you are. A true movie star. Beautiful and so fucking sexy. He hisses your name and Lance swallows harshly, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you going to show us what’s beneath that pretty brassier?” He asks and Dieter shakes his head. “We should assist.” He says as he sets his whiskey down and stands up, kneeling down in front of his knees so he can reach out to unclip your stocking, slowly rolling it down your leg until he removes your heel and the silk.

“Dieter.” You whisper as his lips graze your thighs. It’s hedonistic and thrilling to feel both men’s eyes on your body and know that despite they want each other, they also want you. Your core is throbbing and you crook your finger towards Lance suggestively. “You want to remove it, baby?” You coo.

He nods, “I’ll take it off.” He steps behind you, placing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as his fingers work on removing your bra. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and he tosses your bra aside so he can cup your tits. Dieter has rolled your other stocking down and is pressing his nose to your underwear, groaning at the heady scent of you before he mouthes at your cunt through the silk.

You feel deliciously cared for and moan when Dieter’s hot breath washes over your covered cunt. “Do you do that?” You lean back against Lance and tangle your fingers into Dieter’s curly hair. “Eat a woman’s cunt?” He’s mentioned sucking a cock, but perhaps he is like most men who find a cunt unappealing to lick. It was hypocritical of them in your opinion, but you also never insisted.

Dieter snorts, pulling back to look up at you. “Are you fucking kidding me, baby doll? I love pussy. I love eating pussy.”  He promises and hooks his fingers in your panties so he can pull them down, his face soon buried in your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. “Fuck you taste good.” He groans while Lance pinches your nipples.

“Fuck, Dieter.” His name is a sob on your lips as he manages to make your entire body shake. You turn your head and kiss Lance’s jaw as he palms your tits and makes you feel like you are the star of your own show. “Feel even better inside.”

Dieter doesn’t deny you, grabbing your leg to lift your thigh onto his shoulder so he can slide his tongue inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit. “Fuck, does she taste good?” Lance asks and Dieter pulls back to smack his lips, “she’s fucking delicious.” He groans, diving back in.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, turning and pressing your lips to Lance’s desperately. Wanting to do more than just take from the men. Your hand slides down behind you and you fumble with the zipper of Lance’s slacks. Desperate to pull his hard cock out and stroke it while Dieter licks your cunt. “Pull- pull your cock out.” You beg against his lips.

Lance won’t deny you. He lets go of you, reaching down to fumble with his slacks, opening them to pull his cock out for you. His hands find your tits again and you whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock. Dieter continues lapping at your cunt, sucking on your clit as he tries to send you over the edge.

Your eyes flutter closed, twisting your wrist so you can pump the thick girth in your hand and your hips cant towards Dieter’s mouth. “Oh fuck, oh this is- this is so good.” You moan quietly. “I- I’m gonna cum.” You warn the men.

Dieter desperately wants you to cum. His tongue diving deep, curling inside of you while his fingers grip your thigh and he groans when you finally cum, clamping down on his tongue and soaking his face with your juices. He laps up every drop he can get while you moan his name. Lance groans at the sounds you make, twitching in your loosened grip and he reluctantly pushes your hand away so he can pull Dieter up after the actor lowers your leg. He pulls Dieter close so he can press his lips to his, wanting to taste you.

You pant, watching the two men kiss and you decide you want a taste of your own. Dropping down to your knees, you wrap your fingers around Lance’s cock before you press your tongue to the leaking tip to lap at the juices building up. Making him groan and push into your mouth a little more.

Lance groans into Dieter’s mouth and the actor fumbles to unbutton his pants, pulling his aching cock out. Lance immediately takes his hard cock in his hard, jerking him off while you suck on the stuntman’s length. Dieter’s tongue tangles with Lance’s while he pleasures and gets pleasured.

You pull off Lance’s cock after a moment and take the head of Dieter’s length into your mouth after batting the other man’s hand away from it. Groaning as you have a hand on each man’s cock and start to massage the base of each one. You flick your tongue over the tip of Dieter’s before you pull back and take Lance back into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ.” Dieter groans, looking down at you and Lance takes the chance to kiss along his neck, biting down softly on his jaw. “She’s gorgeous.” He murmurs, stroking your cheek as you look up at the men. “I want to fuck you baby doll. Get on the bed and Lance can fuck your throat while I fuck you if you want that.” Dieter murmurs, giving you the choice.

You kiss the tip of Dieter’s cock and nod as you let go of both men’s girth. “I want that.” You promise breathlessly, biting your lip. Lance helps you up and you move over to the bed and get onto it, on all fours. Looking over your shoulder, you shake your ass at both men. “Come on, pretty boys, I’m starting to get lonely over here.”

Lance comes over, smacking your ass, and he wastes no time kneeling on the bed so you can take his cock back into his mouth. Dieter comes over, kneeling on the bed behind you and he caresses your spine. “I’ll pull out.” He promises, smacking your ass cheek before he’s gripping his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you.

You moan sounds out around the stuntman’s length, your back bowing slightly as Dieter stretches you out. It’s been longer than you care to admit since you’ve had a lover, appearances needing to be kept up for the studios. Still, you enjoy the fullness and push your hips back as he bottoms out inside you.

Dieter closes his eyes, jaw dropping at the feel of you, and he starts to move inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, caressing your hips before he grabs them, rocking inside of you and each rock pushes Lance’s cock deeper down your throat.

It’s filthy and wicked, while you aren’t pure, this is the first time you have been between two men. Your acting making you seem much more confident than you actually are, but you find that you love it. Moaning, you wrap your hand around Lance’s cock and pump the base while you take him deeper.

Dieter groans as he watches you take the other man’s cock into your mouth. It’s dirty and so naughty, everything the studio doesn’t want you to be. He fucking loves it. Lance does too by the look on his face and Dieter can’t help but reach for him, grabbing his neck to pull him across to press his lips to his.

Both men coming together means that they are surging deeper inside you. Pressing close and you feel yourself start to gag on the cock in your mouth but you quickly start to swallow around him. Enjoying the way they moan together above you and you wish that you had a studio camera to film this so you can see how they look.

Your cunt tightens around Dieter and he chuckles into Lance’s mouth, pulling back for a second. “Oh she loves this.” He murmurs and moves forward again to slide his tongue against Lance’s, his hands finding your hips again, his cock pushing harder and faster. He wants to feel you cum around him.

It’s hard to concentrate on the cock in your mouth when Dieter starts to fuck you hard and fast. His cock shredding up inside you and pressing against something wonderful that makes you eager to push back. Eyes watering and your lipstick smeared, you don’t care how you look as long as the delicious pressure continues to build up inside you.

Dieter and Lance pull back from the kiss, looking down at you and Lance groans as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck, gonna make me cum.” He warns you, not sure if you want to swallow his cum or not.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes and you continue to press him deeper into your throat. Pressing the tip of your nose to his torso and barely being tickled by the groomed hairs around his cock. You want him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste him.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkk.” Lance groans, his cock throbbing as he cums down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and Dieter watches in awe as Lance cums. “That’s it baby doll. Good girl. So good.” Dieter coos, caressing your back and he groans when your cunt flutters around his cock.

You want Dieter to cum, to have him moan in pleasure like Lance is. You clench down around him and while you are still swallowing, you push your hips back to encourage him to fuck you harder.

Dieter doesn’t want to cum until you do, his hand sliding under you to find your clit and he rubs it while he’s fucking into you. Lance groans, needing to pleasure you so he shifts onto his back, sliding under you and his tongue finds your clit, pushing Dieter’s hand aside. “Fuck.” Dieter groans as he grabs your hip again to fuck you harder, needing you to cum.

“Oh my goddddddd.” You whine, rocking your hips down and panting. You can’t take much more, the pleasure building up to the point where you screaming out when you start to cum.

Dieter hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him groan your name and Lance shifts, licking at where you and Dieter are joined, your cum dripping into his mouth and he reaches up to fondle Dieter's balls. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna -" Dieter barely managers to pull out, gripping his cock as he spurts his hot seed onto your ass and lower back.

You whine, enjoying the way that he had felt inside you. Missing the way he had filled you as you continue to come. “Dieter, fuck baby.” You pant, dropping down to your elbows.

Lance groans, shifting out from under you and he leans in to lick a line of Dieter's cum from your flesh. "Fuck baby." Dieter grunts, leaning down to bite your ass cheek, lapping at your quivering pussy to taste you again.

Lance nods, "so fucking good." He agrees and when Dieter lifts his head, he surges forward to kiss the actor again. Dieter grabs the back of his neck, keeping him close so he can kiss him passionately, both men still tingling from their orgasms.

Turning on your side, Dieter’s cum still on your ass, you watch the two men kiss. Still feeling euphoric at the sensations you experienced and wondering why this could be so wrong.

“So fucking good.” Dieter groans and leans down to kiss you after Lance pulls back. He shifts off of the bed and goes into the bathroom to grab a rag for you to clean up. Lance follows him, caressing his back and he washes himself up while Dieter takes care of you. “You enjoy yourself, baby doll?” He asks while he cleans his cum off of you.

“I did.” You bite your lip and are a little unsure of how well you managed to satisfy the two men. “Did you both enjoy yourselves?” You ask, looking between Dieter and Lance.

Lance nods, “I enjoyed it, sweetheart. I don’t - I don’t usually like to penetrate unless it’s someone like him.” Lance winks at Dieter, hoping you catch his drift, “but you were fucking delicious.” He leans down to softly kiss you. “Hopefully we do this again sometime.”

You kiss him back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Anytime.” You tell him saucily and winking when he pulls back. You stretch out and hum contentedly. “What do you think, Dieter baby?” You coo, trailing a finger down your breast.

Dieter bites his lip, “it was fucking fantastic baby.” He promises and admires your form as you stretch out. Lance grabs his clothes, starting to redress. “I better go. I have an early call tomorrow.” Lance says and pecks your lips once he’s dressed and he kisses Dieter once again. “See you around handsome.” He winks and carefully exits the room, leaving you and Dieter alone. “You wanna get dressed and get back out there or do you wanna order some drinks and stay in here?” He asks, grabbing his briefs to pull them up.

“What do you want to do?” You ask softly. “I’m with you tonight. Whatever you want, I’m game.” You promise. Your goal is to make him want to be around you and you can’t do that if you make him annoyed or bored.

Dieter leans in to kiss you, his hand caressing your body. “I wanna stay with you. Right here. I wanna make you cum again and then I want to take you home and make you cum again.” He smirks, knowing he’s not gonna want to let you go now that he’s got you. You’re gorgeous and kinky and everything he loves in a woman. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

****

“Fuck baby.” You moan, looking over your shoulder at Dieter as he rocks into you. Your hands are wrapped around the posts of the headboard of the bed you spend more time in than your own. For the past three months, you and Dieter have constantly been together, onset and off and the studio execs are happy that their star has been staying out of trouble. “Harder, baby.” You beg, clenching down around him. “Want to cum all over you.”

“Take it. Oh fuck. Give it to me. Wanna feel you gush, baby doll.” Dieter groans, his fingers digging into your hips and his mouth hanging open as his stomach tingles with his own near climax. “Cum for me.” He chokes, needing you to do it.

You don’t have too much longer before you are doing just that. Your legs kick up between Dieter’s and your toes curl in pleasure. Your cry of his name is something his neighbors around him should be well used to hearing now, since you cry it out every night. “Cum inside me.” You begs, twisting the sheets up in your hands. “It’s safe. Please baby, let me feel you.”

He can’t deny. Fuck, he can’t deny you anything. He pants, his hips pushing into your ass and he clenches his eyes shut as he cums, burying his cock deep inside of you. He groans loud and proud as he paints your walls for the first time. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.” He groans, his hips slamming against your ass and he pants as he rides out his high.

The liquid heat of his pleasure fills you. Making you moan as it reaches every inch of your womb and coats your insides. “Fuck baby.” You whimper, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid, something you know you shouldn’t say or feel but you do anyway. “So good, you’re so good to me, Dee.” You pant instead.

He kisses along your spine, “you’re so goddamn perfect, baby doll.” He murmurs between kisses, reluctant to pull out of you. He wants to stay buried inside of your warmth forever. He grunts as he pulls out of you, leaning back on his haunches to see his cum drip from your pussy and that makes his spent cock drip. “Goddamn beautiful.” He sighs and shifts to lay down beside you. “Darling girl, you want something to eat?” He asks, pulling you into his chest.

You curl up on his chest and sigh, smiling slightly. Dieter is surprisingly attentive for someone who had honed such a bad boy, playboy persona. “Later.” You hum softly. “I was thinking we could stay in tonight?” You caress his chest and bask in the pleasurable afterglow of his attention. Your entire body is lovingly sore from how pent up he was. Apparently you had been teasing him all day on set. “Maybe I could make you dinner? Or a midnight snack?” 

Dieter caresses your spine, “sure. You wanna have pasta? My housekeeper made me some. We can heat it up.” He suggests and you shake your head. “I can’t eat pasta. I - the studio has given me a list of things to eat. Salads, boiled chicken. Vodka or water. I need to keep my weight down.” You explain and Dieter pulls back to look down at you, “what the fuck? Boiled chicken? You’re joking, right?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “You know how it is. All the female actresses are strictly controlled. Why do you think I never eat anything but a salad when we go out?” You ask. “They measure me every morning and put me on a scale. If I’m too heavy, I cannot have lunch. Just smokes.”

“Jesus. I- I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought that they had you taking pills.” He shakes his head again, “you can’t not eat. Salad? That’s fucking rabbit food. You should be able to control your body, not the studio. That’s bullshit, baby.”

“I refused the pills.” You admit. “I didn’t like how they made me feel.” You’ve avoided doing any drugs with Dieter and surprisingly, he’s been okay with that. “That’s why my whiskey order changed to vodka. I hate vodka, but it’s all I can have.”

Dieter nods, having noticed you switched to clear liquor. “Baby doll, it’s crazy they dictate like that. I wish there was something I could do.” He sighs, pouring slightly as he looks at you. He does drugs, coke mainly, and you are such a good girl compared to him, so sweet and kind. He doesn’t deserve you really.

He sighs, knowing this isn’t the end of the conversation but he can’t do anything about it tonight so he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead and he closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You’ve become his home, his safe space, and he’d do anything to protect you. Z

You know that he’s relaxed now and you sigh softly. It’s gotten more complicated now. Far different from the day you had met Dieter. You were shown a side of him that no one else got to see except for in small glimpses. You’ve fallen in love even though you know that the studio has an expiration date set for your relationship. They want him single, so the press knew nothing of your nights out on the town.

****

“You want a drink, baby doll?” Dieter asks, walking over to his bar cart to pour himself a whiskey. You have taken to staying at his place nearly every night and he doesn’t complain when he gets to have you in his bed. The movie is coming along, the romance going extremely well thanks to your chemistry on set and Dieter finds himself more centered on his character, able to remember his lines better. Probably because he’s not out until the early hours having sex with strangers and snorting cocaine. He doesn’t know when it happened but he only wants you, can only think of you.

You shake your head, giving him a soft smile. “I shouldn’t.” You tell him, pressing your hand to your stomach. “They said I’m gaining some weight so I need to cut back on the drinking.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “But if you kiss me after you drink, I can taste it from your tongue.”

Dieter frowns, "gaining weight? You look fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to see the edits of you from today." He says, leaning in to peck your lips after he prepares a whiskey, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste the liquor.

You moan over the taste of the liquor and Dieter combined. It’s intoxicating, and you know that you need him. Curling your hand around his neck, you pour yourself into the kiss and slide another hand down to cup his flaccid cock through his pants.

He groans into your mouth, cock starting to harden under your grip. He can’t help it, you’re too tempting for him. “Fuck baby doll. You want me to fuck you?” He asks breathlessly, kissing along your jaw, careful to not leave any marks.

“Always want you to fuck me.” You whine, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that his lips map the perfect spots to make you hum in pleasure.

Dieter doesn't deny you, wanting you just as much. His hands are everywhere, squeezing your tits, squeezing your ass. He can't touch enough of you as he hardens in your grip. “Let me fuck you baby.” He pleads, his hands sliding under your dress to push under your silk panties, finding your clit. “Already wet for me.”

“Always wet for you.” You pant breathlessly. Holding onto his arms as he rubs your clit exactly how you like for it to be rubbed. “Baby, you do that so good. Always make me feel so good.” You’ve been insatiable lately and luckily Dieter has been completely up to fucking you whenever you want.

He hums, loving hearing your praise. So unlike the harshness he experienced in the industry. Almost everything he does is wrong. He shifts his fingers to push Teo inside of you, wanting you to cum first for him like this. “Baby doll. You’re so good to me. Always- fuck - always want you.” He murmurs when you squeeze his cock.

You ignore the worries that you have, the truth that you are hiding from him as the magic of his touch takes over. Pushing it away to focus on him. “Fuck Dee,” you whimper softly. “Love this, love you.”

It’s the first time you’ve said you love him and it makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, his heart pounding in his chest. “Wait-” He withdraws his fingers and pulls your hand away from his cock. “Did you- did you just say you love me?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip and he can see you’re nervous. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. “I love you, baby doll. I- fuck - you love me?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“I love you, Dieter.” You cup his cheek and kiss him again. “I love you.” You do love him, even if you didn’t start out with this under the most honest of pretenses, you know that you do love him. Shocked that he loves you too, you beam at him.

He pulls you close, guiding you over to the sofa. “I want you to ride me.” He 

says, caressing your back until he’s working the zipper of your dress down to expose more skin to his eager eyes. “I want you to cum on my cock, baby.” He says, pushing the dress off of your shoulders until it’s pooling at your feet and he sits down on the sofa.

You watch as he starts to unzip his pants, pulling the shirttails out and up his stomach as he lifts his hips to push them and his briefs down. His cock is hard, springing up to slap against his skin as he watches you push your panties down and instead of taking off your bra, you straddle his thighs, eager to sink down on him. “Fuck I love your cock.” you coo softly. “You fill me up so fucking good.” 

He groans when you grip his cock, sinking down on top of him. “Fuck baby doll. Look at you.” He hisses, watching you take his length inside of you. He could do this for hours, just watch you ride his dick. “So fucking pretty.” He coos, cupping your cheek and he brings you close so he can press his lips to yours again.

Kissing Dieter has become so very natural to you. Both on set and off. You seemingly always are nearing to kissing him or just coming from kissing him. Still, every time makes you shiver slightly and wish that you were able to keep him. “I love you.” you murmur softly as you start to move, riding him slowly and enjoying the way he stretches you out. Perhaps this will count as exercise. 

His hands caress you, wanting to touch more of you, and he’s quick to unclasp your bra while you work on unbuttoning his shirt. He leans in to kiss along your chest once your bra is slung across the room and his lips are wrapping around your nipple as you start to slowly ride him.

“Dee!” Your fingers dig into his hair and you try to gently pull him away. You’re sensitive and want to kiss him again. “So good baby, kiss me.” You beg softly, knowing he will give in if you want your lips on his.

He reluctantly pulls away from your breast so he can lean in to kiss you. His tongue immediately slides into your mouth. The shitty tattoos on his chest he got while drunk during his brief stint in the army before he was dismissed just after training are under your touch and he knows you can feel his heart beating.

It becomes soft and sweet. Something that is very different from the energetic fucking that normally happens. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rise and sink on his cock while you kiss him. It’s as close to making love as you’ve ever had with him and you want to savor it. 

It’s slower than usual but he loves it. He honestly never imagined he’d find someone to love in this hell hole of a town. The majority of people just wanted him to see where he could take them. He doesn’t want that. He wants someone to want him, Dieter, not the actor. His tongue slides against yours, languid and leisurely as you ride his cock. His hands caress your back and come up to squeeze your breast.

You moan softly, not hurt but it’s still tender as he squeezes. You don’t stop him from enjoying your breasts, knowing how much he enjoys playing with your tits. Your walls clench down around him and you whimper when he pinches your nipple softer than he normally does. “Dee,” You bite his ear lobe and scratch your nails against his scalp as you bury them into his hair. “Love you.” 

“Love you. Fucking love you.” He murmurs and his cock twitches inside of you. “I want you to cum for me.” He pleads softly, reaching down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you soak him. “Cum for me baby doll.” He begs, his voice a little whiny but he can’t help himself.

Instead of being explosive so you gush all over him, your orgasm is soft. Still no less devastating than your normally orgasms in his arms. Stiffening, your cunt clamps down around him and you moan his name softly.

Your orgasm is slow but you clamp down on his cock and he loves it. “Fuck. So beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful.” He groans and he grabs your hips, thrusting up into you. He is close, overwhelmed by the emotion, and he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pulling you down onto his cock and painting your walls with his seed.

He smiles, feeling like he’s finally home when he’s in your arms. You caress him and he feels like he can take on anything as long as he has you. He gets to spend all his time with you and he’s worried that when the movie is finished filming, that you won’t want to see him anymore. A silly fear that’s been abated by you saying you love him but it’s still there, his insecurities. He pulls you close, breathing you in, and he kisses your hair.

****

“I have to tell the producer, I need to let out your dress.” The head of the wardrobe department shakes her head as she looks at you in the mirror. Your skintight dress doesn’t zip up end you know why, although you hadn’t said a word to anyone, not even Dieter. “You can’t tell them.” You beg immediately, nearly frozen in fear. “Please, I’m- im pregnant.”

She looks at you for a second, eyes wide, and she knows what will happen if the studio finds out. “How far along are you?” She asks, “about five months.” Her eyes dip down, “you’re carrying small. Just looks like you’ve eaten a big meal. Is it- it’s Bravo’s?” She guesses. Everyone on set knows about your dalliance with the leading man. You nod and she bites her lip, knowing that if she tattles, you’ll be forced to abort, even at five months. “I’ll let the dress out. I won’t tell anyone.” She vows, knowing she can’t betray you when you’re such a kind woman in an industry full of demanding witches.

“Thank you- thank you.” You turn around and reach for her hands. “I cannot ever repay you.” You gush, nearly in tears with gratitude. You know what this industry is like and what they will do. They forced Judy to get an abortion, and they wouldn’t hesitate to do it to you. “I promise I have been watching what I eat so I don’t gain much.” You promise her quietly. “But my breasts are getting bigger.”

“We will fix it, sweetheart.” She promises, knowing she can’t do much but she can take the dresses out. “Only five more weeks of shooting. You will need to be careful.” She warns you, having seen too many tragedies when it comes to pregnant actresses. You nod, squeezing her hands in thanks and she grabs her measuring tape to take your new measurements so she can take out your costumes.

It doesn’t take long for her to re-measure you, making you feel a lot better and you put on your dressing gown when she’s done. If anyone asks, the costume ripped and she’s mending it while she’s letting it out. You leave wardrobe and move over to the beverage cart, pouring yourself a water and resisting the urge to light a cigarette. You’ve heard it could be bad for babies, so you’ve quit.

Dieter walks through the halls of the studio looking for you. Script in hand and smoke hanging from his mouth, he’s trying to find you to discuss the script changes from the writers and he finds you in your dressing room. “Damn baby girl.” He murmurs, setting his script down and taking a drag of his smoke as his eyes trail along your front. “Gorgeous as always.”

You smile as you look at him, handsome as always and it’s by sheer will that you don’t reach down to touch your stomach. The baby has started moving and it makes you feel incredibly emotional every time. It also seems to be when Dieter is around. “Hey baby.” You walk over to him, trying to ignore the smell of the smoke, it’s started disagreeing with you. “They are having to work on my dress, there was a tear in it.”

He hums, leaning in to kiss you. “Probably me.” He jokes, knowing you’ve had a few quickies between shooting scenes. You chuckle and he kisses along your neck, “you read the revisions?” He asks, picking up the script. “They want us to do some running shit. Want you to run after me.” He says, handing the paper to you.

“Running?” You hadn’t looked at the revisions, too busy with the wardrobe department, but you take the script and look it over as Dieter continues to kiss you. “Why? There shouldn’t be running.”

“It’s some new love scene. They want you to chase me when I get into the taxi. Want you to scream at me that you love me but I don’t hear you. I ride off until we reunite.” He says between kisses to your neck, “you gotta scream out that you loveeee me.” He teases against your skin.

“Ohhhh noooo.” You hum, smiling because you know he is grinning as he continues to kiss you. “It will be so hard to act that out.” Your hands on his waist slide around his back and you lean into him for a moment. You are worried about the running, but it shouldn’t be too bad. You’ve been moving a lot and it’s not like you have to be in bed the entire time you are pregnant. As long as you don’t fall, you should be good.

Dieter smirks, leaning in to softly kiss you. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, “you fucking know that, right?” He asks you, his dark eyes burning into yours. “Most beautiful woman here and I’m so lucky to have you, baby doll.” Dieter murmurs against your jaw.

“I love you, Dieter.” You whisper softly, wanting him to know that you love him and not just something you are saying for the movie. “I think we need to lock the door of my dressing room and have some fun before we film. What do you say?”

“I like the way you think.” Dieter smirks, pulling away from you to lock your dressing room door behind him and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms so he can kiss you properly. Smoke spirals from the smoke he abandoned in the ashtray and his tongue slides against yours while his hands squeeze your ass.

You moan softly, aware that you have to be quiet. Everyone is aware of your relationship on set but you don’t publicly display it. Your body aches for him, the boost to your libido insane during the pregnancy that the father of your child doesn’t even know about. Dieter’s hand dives for the ties to your dressing gown but you shake your head. “No time to get undressed.” You murmur.

He can’t deny you anything. His hips pressing against your ass as he sets a harsh pace, the slapping sounds and your combined moans and pants the only sounds in the dressing room. “Always feel so fucking good.” He grunts, knowing that he can’t be anywhere else. He stopped going to orgies, stopped seeking out others. All he can think about is you. You. You. You.

“I love- fuck, I love you, Dee.” You will have to tell him. You need to tell him now, but you can’t. You’re afraid of what he might say, what he might tell the studio if you do. It won’t be too much longer until the movie is in the can and then you can tell him. If he decides he wants to leave you, so be it.

“Love you. So much, baby doll. Jesus, you - can’t stop thinking about you. All I fucking think about. Stopped taking goddamn drugs because they don’t compare to you. Only get high on you now.” He confesses, “I love you.” He grits his teeth, fucking into you a little faster.

His confession makes you cry out. Falling over the edge and clamping down around his cock, you soak him with your juices. Feeling the incredible flood of warmth seep through your veins and makes you slump against the table.

He hisses when you clamp down on him, never getting tired of how you feel, how you sound when you cum. “Fuck. Oh shit. Shit.” He curses as he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pushes deep and cumming inside of you with a hiss of your name. Painting your walls, he leans over you to kiss your neck.

“So good baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that he fills you up. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that.” You murmur quietly. “We should get married.”

He pulls out of you, spinning you around so you are looking at him. “You serious?” He asks, wondering if you are just rambling in the haze of your orgasm. “You want to be my wife?” He asks breathlessly. He knows he’s a difficult man to love. Hell, he changes his religion every other week. He isn’t easy to be around yet here you are, still here months later. “You wanna marry me?”

“I want to marry you.” You promise breathlessly. “I want nothing more than to marry you.” You want to tell him about the baby but you don’t. Figuring there will be time for that later. You don’t want him to think the only reason you ask him to marry him is because of the baby. “We can go to Vegas.”

Dieter cups your cheeks, “yeah? You wanna elope? I won’t have your daddy trying to shoot my ass?” He jokes softly and you shake your head, reaching up to caress his wrists. “I want to marry you.” You declare and Dieter grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “I wanna marry you too. Let’s tell them you’re sick so we can get off set today. We can be in Vegas tonight to get married tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You giggle against his lips and nod. “I’ll tell them that I’m having horrible bleeding and cramps and cannot possibly run.” You tease,

Kissing him once more before pulling away. Everything seems perfect, completely in love with Dieter and about to go elope with him. You hope he never finds out about your deal with the studio because he would never forgive you.

****

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Dieter wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours. “Mrs. Bravo.” He coos when he pulls back, grinning in awe that he’s married to you.

You kiss him desperately, clinging to his arms. “Mr. Bravo.” You bat your lashes at him playfully. “How does it feel to be a married man?” You ask, blissfully happy that he wanted to marry you.

He grins, kissing you softly. “It - it’s like I’m finally where I belong.” He admits quietly, the weight of his wedding ring on his finger is welcome and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “I love you baby doll. Let’s go celebrate. Champagne!” He says, pulling back from you.

You giggle, knowing that you cannot have more than a sip of champagne but you can’t deny him. “Champagne and then I want to go back to the hotel with my husband.” You beg. Once you get back to L.A. you will have to pretend that you aren’t Dieter’s wife and take off the gorgeous ring he has slipped on your finger.

The champagne is popped once you’re back in your suite and Dieter wants tonight to be all about you both. No movie, no press, nothing but the two of you. He leans in to kiss you, loving how it feels to belong to you.

“I love you.” You promise him, smiling at him as you set your champagne down. You had one tiny sip, but you know that Dieter won’t notice once you start kissing. “I love my husband. Dieter Bravo.”

Fuck, he can’t get enough of hearing that. “Come on baby. Wanna make love to my wife.” He says, “my beautiful movie star wife.” He coos, “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He murmurs, pulling you into his lap.

You hum, making sure that you don’t squish your belly, and wrap your arms around him. “You love me?” You ask playfully. “Will you still love me when I’m old and fat?” You ask it as a joke, but you are worried that he won’t like your body once you have had your baby. He’s used to gorgeous men and women and it would break your heart if he rejected you.

Dieter snorts, “you gonna love me when I’m old and fat too? Im gonna be a miserable old fucker. You ready to deal with me?” He asks, caressing your back, “I’ll love you no matter what, baby doll.” He vows, knowing he’s been fickle his entire life but that’s because he was searching for something, for you.

“You are going to be distinguished.” You argue, running your fingers through his hair. “Your hair will be salt and pepper and you’ll still have adoring fans throwing themselves at you.” You pout, kissing his lips. “And I’ll still think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you are saying that. “And you’d still be the most gorgeous fucking woman in Hollywood.” He assures you, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Are you gonna ride my cock, sweetheart? You wanna have married sex?” He teases, his fingers dipping beneath your dress.

“Yes.” You moan breathlessly. You have been riding him more, scared of him discovering your belly so it has been easier to mount him. He finds your panties easily and push them to the side. The short, white, sheath dress that was your wedding dress is bunched at your hips and covers your belly wonderfully.

Dieter groans when you reach down to take him out of his pants. He’s hard and aching for you. “Take what’s yours.” He orders, his brown eyes wide in awe as you sink down onto him. “Fuckkkk.” He hisses, head tilting back as you take him inside of you.

“I love you.” You pant breathlessly. “I love this cock. I love how you feel inside me, how you make me feel like the only woman in the world.” You babble as you take him deeper, spilling all the thoughts you’ve had since you’ve fallen in love with him. “I want you, only you.”

Dieter swears that his heart is about to explode out of his chest. He hisses, hands fumbling to squeeze your ass and he pants when you clench around him. “I love you. I want you, only you baby doll. Had me since the moment we met. The night we shared Lance. You are - fuck - the woman I’ve been waiting for. I love you. I love you.” He pants, swallowing harshly as he struggles to put into words how he feels about you. Ironic considering he’s an actor.

You moan his name and kiss along his neck. “I know, I love you. I love you too.” It’s all you can say, all you can feel beyond the utter bliss of having him inside you.

Your whimpers make him groan and he rocks up into you. “Cum for me baby. Want my wife to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your flesh and he desperately wants to feel you cum for him.

Your body is sensitive, primed for an orgasm and it doesn’t take many more thrusts to give into it. Tossing your head back, you are confident that he will catch you as you cry his name. Riding out your orgasm with a whimper chant of it again and again.

“Good girl, baby doll. Such a good girl for me.” Dieter grunts as you flutter around his cock. He can’t help it, he needs to cum. Seeing his ring on your finger has him feral and he braces his feet so he can push up into you, “fuck fuck fuck. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He spits out at once until he’s cumming, painting your walls with his hot seed. Panting, he rests his forehead against your sternum, feeling surrounded by you.

You sigh happily, closing your eyes and smiling. Feeling like this is the perfect moment. Nothing is going to change the way you feel about Dieter and you know that he is the love of your life. “Perfect, baby.” You coo softly. “You are perfect and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

****

“You okay?” Dieter asks when you down the glass of water in between scenes. It’s been two months since you have been married, still living apart due to the studio but as soon as you are finished, you’ll be moving in with Dieter. Today is the last day of filming, the final scenes that got pushed back. You running after the cab.

“I don’t feel that good.” You admit, taking a handkerchief and patting your face where you are sweating. You’ve been feeling off since you woke up but you are still another month and a half from being due. The studio still has no idea, since you are carrying so small. It still just looks like you have eaten a large lunch and the wardrobe department has been magical at concealing your baby bump. “I’ll be okay.”

Dieter frowns, “maybe we shouldn’t do the scene today. I’m sure we can move it to tomorrow.” He doesn’t want you to exert yourself. It’s been a long shoot and he knows you must be exhausted. He is. 

The director shakes his head, “no, no. We get this done now. The studio is pissed off that we have gone over budget and time. This gets done today.”

“I’ll be fine.” You insist, shaking your head. You know that the sooner you get the movie in the can, the sooner you can tell the studio that you aren’t adhering to their deal anymore. You don’t care if the movie you’ve wanted to make forever never gets done or if you never work in Hollywood again. You want a life with your husband, your child. “What’s one scene? We’ll be done in no time.”

Dieter is concerned for his wife, the wedding ring he slides onto his finger every night and takes off every morning is in his pocket and he sighs as he steps aside, knowing you can’t be argued with. “ Honey, if it’s too much, we can move this to tomorrow. I don’t want you to get sick.“

Giving him a weak smile as another uncomfortable pain passes through you, you shake your head again. He has seemed to worry more about you since your elopement. It’s very sweet. “I’ll be fine. I want this movie to be done.” You give him a pointed look. “I have plans for this weekend.”

Dieter smirks, knowing what you’re talking about. You decided to take a mini break and rent a house on the beach, spend the weekend together since you are having to live apart. He winks at you and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “Let’s get it done and then we are finished.” He says, offering you a smile despite the worry still being there.

After listening to the director’s wants for the scene, you step on your mark and wait as the car is started and Dieter climbs inside. “Action!” The call prompts you to cry out for your husband’s character and start waving your hands. “Stop! Stop! I love you!” As the car takes off, you start running forward.

Dieter is supposed to drive off but he looks behind him to wave like he’s supposed to and he sees you collapse. “Stop the fucking car!” He hisses, jolting when the driver slams on the brakes and he gets out, rushing over to you. “Baby, baby doll. What’s wrong? You okay?” He asks and the director shouts ‘cut’ but Dieter doesn’t hear it.

You are grasping your stomach and sobbing out in pain. “I- I’m pregnant!” You cry out and you know there is no way for everyone to find out now. There is a puddle of water underneath you where your water broke. Despite how early it is, the baby is coming. “I- I need - Dieter!” You scream as another pain rips through you, harder and more intense than any of the others.

“Pre-pregnant?” Dieter gasps, shocked and he shakes his head, “when? How? I- fuck. You’re pregnant?” Dieter yells and kneels down beside you, eyes wide with fear. “You’re pregnant?” He chokes, knowing it’s only him who could be the father.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I should have- have told you.” You pant out, trying to catch your breath. “I-I didn’t want- the studio- they- you know-“ you break off when another pain rushes over you and your teeth gnash together to keep from screaming again.

Dieter cannot believe you kept this from him. He’s beyond hurt but he can’t show that, knowing he has to keep strong in front of the studio. “Will someone call a fucking ambulance?” He shouts, getting desperate to make sure you’re okay. However upset he is, you’re his wife and he needs to make sure you’re okay.

A crowd is gathering around you, people wide eyes and whispering. You know there is no way this isn’t getting out. Reaching out, you grab Dieter’s hand, terrified that something had gone wrong and you’ve hurt your baby. “I-I love you.” You gasp out. “It’s- the baby is early.”

Dieter doesn’t respond, his mind whirling and he can’t focus when all he can think is “you’re pregnant.” His child. With his child. He can barely breathe himself and he squeezes your hand back, terrified and relieved when the paramedics make their way through the crowd to get to you.

Everyone gasps, glancing over at the producers and director who are equally shocked. Dieter ignores them, knowing he has to be with you, even if it’s to get answers, so he gets into the ambulance and holds your hand as the ambulance speeds away from the studio. “Eight months?” Dieter chokes, closing his eyes.

He hates the idea of being a father, your heart sinks and you close your own eyes to try to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I-I was scared. I didn’t realize it until I- until we were serious and I didn’t want to sc-scare you too.” Tears of agony and sorrow leak out of the corner of your eyes.

“Why - why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, confused and wondering why you haven’t told him. “We - we got married and you didn’t - you didn’t tell me. Jesus Christ, we have had sex. How didn’t I know?” He shakes his head, “I should’ve known. Jesus. Fuck. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I- if the studio found out, they would- you know they would have had me terminate it.” You need him to understand. “I didn’t- I know that I - I couldn’t risk them- I-“ you are cut off by the low, inhuman hiss that you let out, squeezing his hand. You sigh and pant when it passes. “I didn’t know until I was too far along and I knew the studio would tell you about the deal I made with them.”

Dieter frowns, “the deal? What deal?” He is confused, unsure of what the hell you’re talking about when you’re in labor with a baby he knew nothing about. He’s in pain and he wants to know what the fuck is going on.

Everything will come out and Dieter will hate you so it doesn’t matter now. You are crying and you hold onto his hand tightly. “When- when I met you, the studio told me that if I kept you out of the press, from-from behaving badly, they would finance the script I had written.” You confess, immediately rolling into another contraction that takes your breath away and leaves you unable to beg him for forgiveness.

Dieter rears back, his eyes wide and he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. “You- I- I don’t understand. You- we are married? We are - what the fuck?” He hisses, furious with the studio and with you for lying to him. You’re his wife and you didn’t think he deserved to know that you have been bribed into spending time with him.

“I know. I love you Dee, I love you, I promise.” You know he won’t believe you but you have to tell him. Your eyes beg him to believe you, “I don’t care if they blacklist me. I want to be with you. I want our baby. Our baby, Deeeeeeeee!” You cry out when another pain slams into you.

Dieter shakes his head, “I can’t believe - fuck.” He winces, feeling betrayed and yet you’re his wife. You’re about to have his baby. “I wish- why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, tears stinging in his eyes. The ambulance comes to a stop at that moment and Dieter leans back so the paramedics can take you into the hospital.

You don’t answer him, you can’t answer him as you get caught up in the business of getting into the hospital. You want him with you but they won’t let him come back behind the double doors and you know that he has every reason to leave you. You might never see Dieter again.

Dieter is escorted to the father’s waiting room. He is itching for a smoke and one of the other dads-to-be hands him one.

“First?” He guesses and Dieter pauses for a second so he can light up the cigarette and he nods, exhaling the smoke. 

“Yeah.” He is still reeling from the barrage of bad news you’ve dumped on him and he swallows harshly, pacing as he tries to process what you’ve told him.

“It’ll be fine.” The man takes a drag off his own cigarette and blows it out. “My wife’s having our third. Little girl.” He looks over at the stack of magazines. “Bring a newspaper, though. Those magazines are at least five months old.”

Dieter rubs his forehead as he sits down, leaning between his legs, cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air as he struggles to come to grips with the fact that he’s about to become a father, and his wife lied to him. “Thanks for the advice.” He snorts and the guy squints, adjusting his glasses. “Hey, ain’t you that actor guy?” He asks and Dieter sighs, “yeah. That’s me.” The guy grins, “no kidding. Wait till I tell my old lady who I met. Who’s the lucky lady?” He jerks his chin towards the ring Dieter subconsciously takes out of his pocket and slides onto his finger. Dieter says your name, knowing that the press will get hold of the news so it doesn't matter anymore to keep it a secret. “Her? She’s gorgeous. You’re a lucky son a bitch.” He says and Dieter snorts, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Inside the delivery room, you are sobbing for Dieter, panicked and desperate to talk to him, to have him nearby as the doctors refuse to tell you if the baby is okay. After too long pitching a fit, they knocked you out, drugging you.

Dieter hasn’t heard anything, starting to panic as he waits to hear from a doctor or nurse about you and the baby. His foot bounces up and down as the minutes tick by and he can’t take it. He stands up, the chair scrapping and he grabs the passing nurse. “I need to know what’s happening with my wife. Right now.” He demands, unable to take it any longer.

The nurse pulls her arm away from him and turns to start lecturing him, eyes widening when she recognizes the face of her favorite movie star. “M-Mr. Bravo.” Everyone in the labor department knows that the famous actress in labor had been calling for him until you were put to sleep to rest. The fact that you were married almost makes her speechless, but giddy to know something that hasn’t been reported. “Your wife has been unsettled and distressed so the doctor gave her something to help her rest. The baby was almost ready to come out. It will be just a little longer.” She assured him, taking his hand because she can say she touched a movie star.

Dieter looks down at her hand gripping his and immediately pulls it away. “So are they okay? No one is telling me anything.” He hisses, “I need to know if they are okay. Has the baby been born yet?” He asks and she shakes her head, “not yet.” Just as Dieter opens his mouth to respond, he hears his name called behind him. Turning, he sees the executives from the studio and he narrows his eyes, “what are you doing here?” He hisses, feeling betrayed by the producers and director who persuaded you to lie to him, to babysit him.

“Trying to contain this disaster.” The producer shakes his head, frowning heavily. “Luckily, the hospital staff can’t say anything, but have you talked to anyone? I don’t want this getting out. Stupid girl. She should have aborted the damn thing the second she found out she was pregnant. Her career is over.” His cold eyes flicker over to Dieter. “Although you will come away unscathed.”

Dieter can’t believe what they are saying. “Are you- are you fucking joking? This is my wife. My child. I- I didn’t know she was pregnant but I’m not just gonna walk away. We are married.” Dieter announces and the execs shake their heads. “No one gave you permission to be married.” Dieter snorts, “no because we didn’t need it because we are adults.”

“Well, we will get the marriage annulled.” He tells you dismissively. “While she was good at keeping you from fucking half of Hollywood, she fucked up. Marrying you, getting pregnant.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “No wonder she’s been quiet when I ask how things are going. She knew she wasn’t going to get her movie made. Although I’m still going to make it, just without her.”

“No. No. You can’t do that. She - it was me who came inside of her. I knew the possible consequences.” He reasons, “You cannot annul my marriage to her. I love her.” He chokes, still worried about you. 

“Love? You have fucked half of Hollywood and you expect us to believe you love her? Come on now, we are doing you a favor.” 

Dieter growls, reaching out to grab the executive by his collar, “don’t fucking test me right now. My wife is having our child and I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll spread you over the fucking floor.”

The director looks ready to jump in but the producer shakes his head. “Think carefully, Dieter. You’re a star because I want you to be.” He warns him. “Fight me on this and you’ll never make another movie. You’ll lose everything.”

Dieter growls, “fuck you.” He pushes him away, “you think you own me but you don’t. I’ll get work outside of this studio. I’ll - I’ll go to Warner.” He threatens, “don’t you fucking mess with me or my family.”

The studio exec scoffs and shakes his head. “They won’t take you. You’re a liability, Bravo. Why do you think I had to bribe your wife to spend time with you?” He asks, smirking. “She’s probably going to leave you anyway so why don’t you make a deal for yourself? Save something from all this.” He suggests, needing Dieter to agree in order to get the annulment.

Dieter can’t stop himself, he pulls his hand back and surges forward to punch the exec. For voicing his fears, that you will leave him eventually everyone does. “Owwww.” Dieter whines as soon as he punches, his hand aching and he whimpers, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck, that hurt. You’re gonna fucking leave.” He growls, “get out of this hospital otherwise I’ll call the security.” The other men in the room stand up, having seen Dieter’s worry and are prepared to help him kick those assholes out.

Shaking his head, the producer reached up and rubs his jaw. “You’re finished Bravo.” He spits. “I’ll make sure you never film another scene and your habits are known around town.” He warns, turning on his heels and stomping out of the waiting room, the director on his heels.

Dieter pants, his hand throbbing but the doctor walks into the room and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than hearing how you are. “What’s happening? How is she?” He asks and the doctor smiles, “congratulations, Mr. Bravo. You have a son. He’s small, but healthy. Would you like to see him?” He asks and Dieter nods, the other dad patting him on the back. “Congrats.” Dieter follows the doctor, “and my wife?” He asks, “she’s recovering.” He guides Dieter to the nursery and Dieter looks down at the baby wrapped up in a blue blanket.

Slowly blinking, you feel heavy, lethargic. Your mouth is dry and your body hurts as you start to do a mental tally on yourself. Head throbbing, you look around to realize that you are still in the hospital. “Hello?” You start to panic when you don’t hear anyone or see anyone in your room. You don’t expect Dieter stayed but you realize your stomach is flat and there’s no bassinet in your room. “Hello! Where’s my baby!”

"He needs to be with her." Dieter insists and the nurse doesn't deny him, wheeling the baby into the room you are in and you are crying. "Baby doll, what's wrong?" He asks, leaning in to kiss your forehead and wrapping his arms around you. "He's here. Our son. We have a son, sweetheart." Dieter murmurs against your skin.

“A son? He’s okay?” You gasp out through your tears, struggling through the after effects of the medication to sit up. “I need- I need to hold him. Please, let me see him.” You beg, wanting to hold your son and touch him after the trauma of his birth. “A son.” Blinking through the tears, you can’t believe that Dieter is here.

He doesn't hesitate to cradle the baby, carrying him over to you and you take him into your arms.Dieter sees you holding the baby and his eyes sting. He understands now why you took the risk to hide the baby from him, from the studio. He wouldn't have wanted the child, not at first, and you would've been forced to have an abortion. Looking at his son, there's no way he could deny how much he already loves him. "He's small, but healthy. They want to observe him to make sure he's okay to go home in a few days." Dieter explains, sniffing as he reaches out to caress the baby's head.

“He’s okay.” You start crying again, relief and joy that your son is okay making you emotional. “Oh, baby boy. I’m so sorry that I didn’t hold you right away.” You coo, looking down at him. Counting fingers and unwrapping his blanket so you can count toes. “You are so precious, gorgeous.” Looking up at Dieter, you hope that he loves him as much as you do. “I’m so sorry baby, I know- I know you must hate me.”

Dieter swallows harshly, knowing he should because you kept it from him, lied to him about why you even wanted to be around him in the first place. “Baby. I- I should hate you. I should. But I can’t because - because I understand. Doll, I know why you had to keep him a secret. I just wish you’d told me. All those nights together…how didn’t I figure it out? I- I feel fucking stupid.” He shakes his head.

“No. You aren’t stupid.” You insist. “I was carrying small. The wardrobe head only knows because my dresses were a little tight. Even she says she’s not seen someone change so little carrying a baby.” You had worried, but the secret doctor you had seen assured you that the baby was healthy. You had visited him privately and paid him well to keep from reporting back to anyone who mattered.

Dieter shakes his head and closes his eyes, “I- I don’t know - fuck. A baby. I- I never imagined I’d be a father.” He confesses, closing his eyes in pain.

“Oh.” Your heart drops and you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. You had hidden the pregnancy from Dieter and lied about why you were interested in him when you first met. “I understand.” You choke out, trying to keep from crying. “I- it’s okay.” You hold your son close. “I don’t- I’ll sign whatever you want. You can pretend that you never- that this is just a bad dream for you. I’m going to move out of L.A. Make it easier for you. My career is over anyway.”

Dieter shakes his head, hating that you misunderstood him. “Baby no. No. I- I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose you or the baby. I love you. I love you so much and I - you’re the best thing I’ve ever had. Baby doll, don’t leave. Stay with me. We will figure everything out.” He chokes, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“I was going to tell you this weekend.” You admit quietly. “I wanted to tell you, I almost did so many times.” You hate that he is hurt, hate that you hurt him. “I love you, I love you so much Dieter, and I was so afraid I was going to lose you. You are kind, funny, sweet, generous. So much more than you show everyone and I’m so lucky that you chose me.”

Dieter shifts to brush your lips with his. “I love you. You and our son. Fuck, we have a son.” Dieter says, reaching down to stroke the head of the baby at your breast. “I want to start my own studio.” He announces after a few moments.

“You do?” Your eyes widen in shock and despite that, you know Dieter would do well. During your late nights together, you had talked about different artistic shots you would add. He was talented in ways that would translate into director or producer well. “That’s great!”

Dieter is pleased that you think it’s a good idea. He agrees and leans in to kiss you, “we will figure it out baby. We have the contacts. No one gives a fuck about who’s behind the desk. They only care about who’s on the screen.

“We’ll figure it out.” You agree, knowing that there will be a lot to work out, but as long as Dieter wants to be a family, you will help however he needs. “But right now, we need to name our little boy.”

Dieter shifts to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around you and still stroking the baby’s head. “What names do you have in mind, baby doll? You’ve had longer to think about it than me.” He says that with no malice but it’s true.

“I didn’t think about names.” You admit. “I didn’t know what we were having and I couldn’t really decide names to pick. What name are you thinking?” You would love for your husband to name your son.

“What about Edward? Eddie for short?” He suggests, “it was, uh, it was my father’s name.” He reveals, knowing you have heard Dieter talk about his mom but no word about his father who died when he was a young man.

“What about your dad’s name? That way he has both of us.” Dieter smiles as he looks down at the now sleeping baby. You nod, repeating your father’s name. “I love it.” He grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “So does this mean no sex for a while?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours.

You chuckle quietly as your son sleeps in your arms. “No sex, but I think I owe you quite a few blow jobs.” You admit, smirking. “To make up for keeping everything from you.”

Dieter chuckles, kissing your hair, “we have the rest of our lives for blowjobs, baby doll.” He promises, closing his eyes as he rests his head against yours. He adores you and he knows you need to have a serious talk about everything you kept from him but he loves you. He wouldn’t change anything now. You and Edward are his next big project. Hollywood can wait, Dieter has finally settled down and many in Hollywood will mourn the news (men and women alike) but he has found his leading lady and he intends to keep her for the rest of his life.

[cagandante-communistoide]

Obligatory Why is aphobia A Thing ask

-💜

Get ready, this is my manifesto.

Content warnings for mentions of sexual violence and intimate partner abuse.

Before I can answer why aphobia is a thing, I have to answer what aro and ace phobia are, and for that I have to define amatonormativity and allonormativity. And for that, we need to define romance and sexuality as social constructs.

WHAT IS LOVE (baby don't hurt me):

THINGS I WILL NOT BE ATTEMPTING TO DEFINE FOR MY OWN SANITY:

the emotion of romantic or sexual attraction. the question of what these emotions are like is highly individual, partially socially constructed and entirely irrelevant to asking about the effect of certain positionalities in society related to these concepts.

THINGS I WILL BE DEFINING:

the social construct of romance and sexuality and how the dominant relationship model operates in society. Basically, what is considered romantic and sexual and what romance and sex is "supposed" to be, not what romance and sex actually feel like.

So: what is love? Romance is the whole motley of expectations that come with a romantic relationship- monogamy, priority over platonic relationships such as friendship, cohabitation and sharing of all assets and life decisions, and among most people on earth today, heterosexuality and the bearing of children. Sex in society is a social currency, something that is required to secure romantic relationships and for normal human psychology, but that must only be present in certain amounts in the context of a normative romantic relationship (or normal amount of hookups, in some cases) to be considered moral. It is the automatic placement of these models of romance and sex as universal goods, goals to be strived for as well as the “natural” order of things and lack of adherence as significant of some form of problem a la “maybe you have hangups, maybe you have a medical issue, maybe you’re single because you’re a bad person”.

Too much romance and sex (polyamory) or too little (aspec) both fall outside this norm. To not be asexual in any way is to be ALLOSEXUAL, and to not be aromantic in any way is to be ALLOROMANTIC. The status of being somewhere on the asexuality or aromanticism spectrum will be referred to as ASPEC. ACESPEC is for asexual-spectrum and AROSPEC is for aromantic-spectrum. The social construct of romance + its mandatory nature will henceforth be referred to as AMATONORMATIVITY. The social construct of sexual attraction + its mandatory nature and rules will henceforth be referred to as ALLONORMATIVITY. When a statement applies to both amato and allonormativity, I will simply write allonormativity. When it applies only to aromanticism and amatonormativity, I will write amatonormativity. WAIT, BUT IS ALLONORMATIVITY REAL? (yes):

here's some things people who are in romantic and sexual relationships and experience normative attraction on both counts, especially ones that progress into legal marriage, get most everywhere in the world that people who are not don't - regardless of whether they'd want to or not!

Tax benefits. The government literally gives you free money just for being married.

Lower prices for a lot of things: "family rates" for all forms of insurance, tuition discounts for education you have to pay for. additionally:

Greater financial benefits. It's easier to be approved for rent if you have a partner. it's easier to get bank loans and finance expensive things if you're married. If your spouse dies you automatically get insurance payouts and inheritance by default, without probate or even being taxed. A lot of the time your cohabitating partner or spouse is the automatic beneficiary of your financial services. Informally, everything is priced for couples. When there's economic downturn, the default bourgeois media excuse is "if you don't want to struggle financially, get married". Poor economic conditions are used as a lever with which to push people into amatonormativity. Additionally, the only relationship you are financially punished for for legally leaving is marriage through an expensive court proceeding. If your romantic relationship has been reified enough, the incentive to remain in it is literally that you have to hire a lawyer to leave.

Legal recognition. Your next of kin is automatically your spouse. If you are not a minor child and you want someone to inherit your things, make decisions for you when you can't, or receive say, jubilation or insurance payments on your behalf, the only way you can do that without filing power of attorney documents is marriage. The only relationship you cannot leave without going to court is marriage, and the only other people who are so difficult to leave because of societal and legal pressure to cohabitate and share assets with them is your nuclear family. Want to make sure cutting contact with you is so expensive, exhausting, and difficult for another person that they would never even try it? Be in a relationship. Then get married. Also, if you're asexual but in a marriage, your marriage only counts if you have sex with your partner in a lot of places. Allonormativity is a requirement for amatonormativity- the normal definition of romance makes normative sexuality obligatory.

Social currency. Romance and marriage are considered "essential life stages". People in relationships are automatically seen as more functional, more trustworthy, more mature. if you don't express interest in relationships you are labelled mentally ill or antisocial and if you can't get one by a certain point you're labeled a failure of a human being. There is much invested in the social narrative that "everyone's purpose is to find love", and not finding it results in a perception of having failed said purpose. Leaving a romantic relationship, especially for reasons of incompatibility instead of some kind of wrongdoing, is frowned upon. Most benignly, it's seen as an inherent tragedy to leave a partner you didn't want to begin with or don't want anymore. Often, it marks you as a bad person. Romance carries immense social currency as a universal good that washes any situation or person of their horror. See:

In many parts of the world, marital rape and physical abuse is legal to some extent. If you're partners but not married, or it's illegal, then even so partners are the people least likely to be suspected of abuse right after parents, even with proof. Many an abuser has gotten away with obvious abuse just by saying "it's a lover's spat". many forces like misogyny, homophobia, and racism compound this effect, but ultimately what they reify is a system where romance and family are considered automatic goods that negate or permit abuse. "It's okay because he's your boyfriend" is just as common as "it's okay because he's your father". Again: want to have an unhealthy amount of control over another person with complete social acceptability and cover? Be in a relationship. Then get married.

Psychiatric legitimacy. Again, romance and sex are considered automatic goods. Allonormativity asserts that regular romantic and sexual activity within a monogamous heterosexual relationship especially (but not exclusively, this expectation exists regardless of whether any individual subject is accepting of queerness or nonmonogamy) is universal healthy human behavior and should be strived for. Romance and sex are frequently said to be human "needs" and denial of either to another person is almost always treated as an aggression by the person saying "no". If you fall in love and have sex, you are automatically the "healthy" person next to someone who does not. Your reality is the default life goal for everyone, in both casual and clinical settings - whether they want it or not.

AND NOW FOR THE BENEFITS OF SEXUALITY SPECIFICALLY:

Medical legitimacy. Again, you are the "default" healthy option for human behavior. Development of sexual attraction labels you a normal, untraumatized, healthy person by default and doctors will never use your sexuality to question you about your hormone levels or whether you have an intersex condition to be "fixed". Your sexuality is not a currently diagnosable "condition" internationally and people will not suggest physical therapy, medication, or surgical intervention to "fix" you into having sex. (Of course, people who actually DO have medical or trauma related reasons why they don’t have sex who may or may not want to reduce them have a lot of pressure on them to resume “normalcy” as soon as possible - this is an example of the social asexualization of the otherwise allo subject.)

Legal legitimacy: again, marriages are only valid in several places when sex is involved.

Social legitimacy: same applies as for the latter iteration of this but slightly differently- you can lose sexuality based social currency by being polyamorous or otherwise too promiscuous. However, if you have the "correct" amount of sex with the "right" people, you are by default considered a more mature, correct person. You command more trust and inspire more respect than someone who clearly has not had the "right" amount of sex just by being someone who is presumed to do things "correctly", because you've cleared an "essential life stage". You are natural, you are normal, and those are both very powerful social positions to wield over someone who isn't. Just look at how much social currency cis people have over trans people for an example of the same thing. Your relationship is also not at risk because of "withholding sex" in the vast majority of cases (because you are compliant with your partner's "need", of course).

WHAT ABOUT APHOBIA?: WHAT YOU HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO AS THE POOR BASTARD WHO IS ARO/ACE

On the flip side is arophobia and acephobia, the bigotry and structural injustice that enforces amatonormativity and allonormativity onto those who do not fit. Here's a trying-to-be-comprehensive list of the smorgasbord of indignities, injustices and inhumanities aro/ace people can be and often are subject to on the basis of their orientation:

Pathologization- asexuality. "Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder" is an internationally diagnosable condition in which doctors attempt to "fix" that you don't want sex and are unhappy about it by trying to "fix" the "disordered" sex drive. Because being unhappy about asexuality is something that would only happen because it's wrong, and not because normal sexuality holds immense social, medical, and legal capital, amirite? If you need to be explained why taking a natural harmless variance in sexual orientation and making it a "disease" to be cured is wrong, ask yourself if you think homosexuality should still be a disorder to be "treated" with medications and conversion therapies.

Pathologization- aromanticism. Romance is considered a "need", a universal part of life and achieving a romantic partnership is considered a universal good even in clinical settings. Not desiring romance is considered a sign of antisocial behaviors associated with a range of pathologies, including depression, social anxiety, avoidant personality disorder and conduct disorder/antisocial personality disorder. Every single aromantic person I have ever met, whether personally or in passing, who has set foot in a psychiatric setting has experienced some form of conversion therapy through continued harassment to date or through abuse of medication. ALL OF THEM. It is legitimately unavoidable.

Legal disadvantage: all of the above privileges reserved for romantic partnerships, especially marriages,  are barred from aromantic people either entirely or functionally through the creation of a long, difficult process to achieve the same thing marriage gets by default. If you are alloromantic but asexual, all of the above privileges reserved for marriage can be revoked if your marriage is declared invalid due to lack of sexual activity or your partnership is dissolved because of your asexuality. In addition, while aro/ace people are subject to almost all the same indignities of homophobia + aphobia, we are functionally not considered a protected class anywhere where homosexuals are because allonormativity obscures and denies our very existence. This is the third of many examples of how being aspec is its own positionality which intersects with and worsens other queerphobia, and how allo queer people benefit from specifically not being aspec. I will elaborate on this later.

Financial disadvantage: as opposed to the legal category where if you waste enough time in court you might be able to appoint someone with the same rights and benefits to confer upon you (given that they are not prioritizing their own romantic + sexual relationship), aro/ace people will NEVER benefit financially from the structure of the economy being designed to reward couples. I hope the above list has explained sufficiently why this is significant and that the preference for romantic relationships monetarily is not at all a victimless or neutral happenstance.

Social neglect + abuse due to allonormativity: Do you perhaps enjoy everyone you know and love leaving you behind because they have significant social and financial incentive to prioritize their romantic relationships over you? How about being considered automatically less valuable to your partner because you won't have sex with them, or less valuable to the people you love because your relationship is purely platonic compared to a partner that literally waltzed in a few months ago? Do you salivate at the thought of being bullied everywhere from school to your home to your doctor's office for being a virgin? How about for being single and never dating? Do you derive enjoyment from being called homophobic slurs without, contrary to popular belief, being able to "opt out" of it by saying you're not gay? Do you like seeing every person who is like you treated as a joke, a crazy, presented as an unnatural perversion of human behavior and mocked resoundingly in every public sphere as a human who has failed to mature? Who has failed to develop humanity? Do you enjoy the thought of the definition of what makes people "human" excluding you? No? Too bad. You can look forward to this anyway.

Corrective violence, including sexual harassment, molestation, assault, all forms of abuse and murder, especially for rejecting an allo’s advances and/or in the context of intimate partner violence.

Homophobia from straight people, and aphobia from allosexual queer people as well. Remember, the other marginalized groups still benefit from being more "normal" than you! But you're not oppressed, because you're not gay.

HEY, NONE OF THIS IS EXCLUSIVE TO APHOBIA! IT'S ACTUALLY HOMOPHOBIA/MISOGYNY! (deep sigh) :

You're right, it isn't. But no analysis of bigotry is about having a "unique experience". It's about identifying the ways in which society is designed to hurt you, in which other people have power over you, and who benefits from your suffering.

A gay person and an asexual have the same experience having a slur hurled at them for denying a straight person's advances. But a gay person and an asexual person do not have the same experience going to the doctor and mentioning their sexuality, because it is entirely likely and extremely common that a gay person gets to walk away free and an asexual person is diagnosed with "hypoactive sexuality". An asexual person does not have increased social license by established norms about sexuality and romance to rape their partner for denying them garlic bread, but a gay person wields the power to do so to their asexual partner and have it justified by "they were denying me sex. They’re being cruel to me by denying me this when it means so much to me". A gay person can sexually harass an asexual on the basis of their virginity with "why haven't you had sex? you should really do it. stop being frigid. go to the doctor, that's not normal. maybe it's a hormonal imbalance", or say things like “All these people are virgins now because they’re afraid of sex. All these people are single now because they have bad personalities." without having it questioned. A gay person, in many countries, can reap the benefits of marriage, and aromantic people famously do not often wish to marry. The aspec experience is to have this denied - asexuals and aromantics cannot be victims of the homosexual or heterosexual in the allo imagination because the aro or ace is not real to them. They are always a perpetually shifting list of character defects but never a real class of people. Just a disease to be eradicated. Something wrong with an otherwise allo person - a failed allosexual, but also someone who has deliberately reneged on their humanity and thus forfeited dignity or even existence in the public consciousness. Invisibility for us is not safety. It is our guillotine.

You can be oppressed for your sexuality and still be privileged for NOT being aspec. Being aspec is its own positionality, and our oppression is specifically targeting US. We are not caught in your crossfire, or anyone else’s. You, reader, whether you be a woman or homosexual or transgender or nonwhite, may have similar experiences as described. But if you are allosexual, you will never experience it for BEING aspec. You can opt out of aphobia, you are privileged on the basis of your allosexuality and alloromanticism. I can not "opt out". I will always experience meaningfully different and more social scrutiny on basis of sexuality than you, allosexual reader, ever will, because every single allosexual and alloromantic can wield aphobia towards aros/aces. Yes, even if you're gay. THAT is aphobia. AND NOW ONTO THE HORRORS OF CAPITALISM:

Now it's time to answer the original question: WHY does aphobia exist? Well, let's think about what else romance and sexuality are. They're extremely useful tools. Ever since there has been a class of people who lived off the labor of others and a class who had nothing to sell but their labor, there has been financial incentive for the former to make sure there is a steady supply of the latter. The next generation of serfs, peasants, and later proletariat needed to be secure for an economic model in which a select few live entirely off a many laboring on their private property to survive. And what better way to do that than to enshrine the two emotions most associated with reproduction as mandatory parts of life? To then construct a model of romance and sexuality that rewards those who create an easily traceable geneaology as property for the patriarch and continue producing children to become laborers without creating children that would complicate this process, and punish those who do not?

Tie sex to marriage and that’s more incentive for people to marry just to have sex. Make the process of reproduction a mandatory aspect of life. Make it so that it’s only acceptable with your spouse, who has control over your finances and legal processes to some degree (it was very common in feudalism for the wife to outright be a husband’s property), to tie you to that person forever, and then make it a very socially elevated role to fill and a very hard bond to break to make sure the maximum amount of people keep reproducing with one family patriarch for as long as possible. What’s the end result? A socially engineered values system which serves to ensure that there will always be new laborers in the working class, because every person MUST marry and MUST have sex with their partner and therefore must reproduce. This is the same reason homophobia exists economically, except allo gay people wield additional social capital over aspecs by subverting the direction allonormativity expects you take in terms of partnerships instead of eschewing it. Why? Capitalism can still sell allonormativity back to allo queers with some slight tweaks. That’s not to say that the gains of allo queers are not significant liberation from homophobia, but it’s just that - it creates holes in homophobia. Holes in homophobia for gays that are “close enough” to how things are “supposed” to be done, at that. It does nothing to address the allonormative cisheteropatriarchal superstructure that creates both homophobia and aphobia. For example, it is extremely important for gay people to earn the right to marry, but then the institution of marriage which creates a single standard for a “correct”, respectable relationship and then rewards compliance for it is not questioned at all by that step. It just expands the box you are allowed to be in slightly, and ultimately reifies the same institution from which homophobia stems - allocisheteropatriarchal capitalism and its legal code. Detractors then argue that gay marriage isn’t “real” marriage or isn’t moral, and the purely gay positionality oriented argument against this (that being that attaching morality to gender of partner is a construction of heteronormativity and is artificial), while correct, fails to destroy the angle from which this bigotry continues to emerge repeatedly - that being that ALL the trappings of the “normal, moral, natural” relationship are artificially constructed and oppressive in nature. Including the institution of marriage itself. Aphobia is a thing for the same reason racism, homophobia, and misogyny are a thing: it has made the bourgeoisie money for generations. It is a social invention inherited from feudalism that serves the same purpose as it ever did- population control for the army of laborers.

[jkslipppiercing]

Bumblebee 04 | jjk

• summary: Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?

• pairing: ceo!jk x reader, high school bully!jk, dom!jk.

• genre: enemies to lovers, slowburn, high school bully to lover, arranged marriage, CEO/billionare romance, marriage of convenience.

• warnings: choking, humiliating (kinda idk), close proximity, cursing, miscommunication.

• WC: 2.1K aprox. (she's a little baby)

• taglist form

• index

• previous/next

A single tear runs down your cheek.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You've never cried over a guy. Is that going to change now?

Possibly.

Jungkook has already left for work at about 9:00, leaving you to your thoughts. He said you're due to show up at his office at 12:00, considering him being free for the day. He claims he needs to use his rare vacant hours to talk you over the basic dos and don’ts of working for him.

You agreed, acting like you've met him two days ago over a work interview.

“Y/N, I went to a gentlemen’s club yesterday.”

You run his words on repeat in your mind, like a jammed tape that's just running through your head. His voice refuses to back down, growing louder at your conscience. He's basically screaming the sentence at you now, overwhelming you.

“A strip club.”

Shit.

Another tear escapes.

In all honesty, you have no idea how to feel. One minute you’re fuming at how he didn’t care enough to show up to dinner yesterday, and the other you’re miserable; because you don’t want to be mad at him.

Every time your feelings are brought to the matter, you spiral. You truly don’t know how to feel. You want to understand him, but you’d be tossing your pride in the trash for you to forgive him for what he did. It was a mistake, you know how badly he knows he’s fucked up, but you still haven’t heard an apology. All it takes is one fucking apology, just good enough to show he cares.

You blocked your feelings out and wore a cold mask, in disguise of your true emotions. You expected him to be mad at that reaction, because you basically gave him nothing to work with, but he reciprocated it. He’s playing your game. Now, you’re going to play his.

You look at your reflection, wiping away at the stray tears of utter confusion. You plaster a satisfied smile as you appreciate the effort you put into the outfit you’re wearing.

You’re wearing a mini-dress.

In basic work attire ethics, wearing a mini-dress to work is inappropriate. It’s the epitome of unprofessionalism, and you’re wearing it purely to provoke Jungkook. He said you’re going to start working for him, but the poor man doesn’t know how you operate.

He’s giving you the secretary job only to show you who holds the true power, thinking it’s him who does.

He’s so gullible to think you can simply agree to work for him.

Soon, when you’re married to Mr. Jeon and you’re officially declared as his wife, you’re also officially a partner of the company. The company of which HG and Jeon Agencies will merge to form. So, in actuality, you're soon due to be working with him.

If you wore a mini dress to work as Jungkook’s future wife, who will dare to speak a word about it?

An off-shoulder, tight black mini dress- at that.

•••

You strut through the company like it’s your own, endless gaping faces staring your way.

Your head is held high, your hips swaying with every step in such an authoritative manner. It’s impressive- to say the least- the amount of confidence you’re radiating through every stride.

As you enter the elevator, you catch a rather cute employee- the quirky type with glasses- staring at youwith her jaw to the floor. You make sure to send her a rather flirty wink just before the elevator doors close and you’re taken up to Mr. Jeon’s office. You catch a glimpse of her swooning over the action with rosy cheeks, a victorious smile pulling the corners of your lips up.

A couple of minutes later, you’re in front of the secretary’s desk, Yoona staring up at you in bewilderment.

You smile at her half-heartedly, getting straight to the point; “Is Mr. Jeon alone in his office? Does he have anyone scheduled to meet him anytime soon?” Your voice drips in professionalism, cutting straight to the point.

Yoona takes quite a bit of time before she stutters a semi-coherent answer. “U-uh n-no. He’s alone.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as your don’t waste your time any more, heading for Jungkook’s office door.

You don’t knock. Why would you?

Holy heavens.

Jungkook is leaning back on his desk as if awaiting your arrival. He has a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand. The tie around his neck loosened as his suit’s blazer was forgotten on the couch.

He has 2 leather chairs on either side in front of his desk and a wide couch in the center, in addition to an aesthetic coffee table; seemingly creating a lounge in the middle of his office.

He has a couple buttons of his shirt undone, as the sleeves of it are rolled up on his forearms. His hair tousled like he’d run his hand through it a million times, which he does before he smirks. He tucks one of his hands in his trousers’ pocket, using the second to bring the glass up to his lips. He smirks through it at you, all the while maintaining eye contact between you two. His watch glints in the sun, grabbing your attention.

You've always had a thing for men and watches, and goddamn is it a weakness.

The sun rays shine through the tall floor to ceiling glass windows, illuminating his figure and complimenting its height and the lean muscle that hides beneath the sheer material of the shirt.

The sight knocks the breath right out of your lungs and skyrockets your heartbeat to over one hundred and ten per minute.

Whoa.

His eyes rack over your body, starting from your toes and making their way up to your head. He takes his time taking you in, a glint of lust- maybe even hunger- swirling in his chocolate eyes. He takes another sip of whiskey.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mrs. Jeon.”

The name escapes his lips in an amused manner.

What?

Last time you checked, you were still Ms. Y/L/N.

“Excuse you?” You raise a brow as you approach him. You place your purse on the couch, joining his blazer as you strut towards him, your head held high.

“You better get used to being addressed by that, Y/N.” He stays leaned back on the desk, speaking as if he has not a care in the world. “You are my future wife, after all.” He smirks.

God damn that smirk of his.

Oh how much you want to kiss it off his face.

You continue your stride toward him, betraying no emotion when your face stays neutral.

You stop right in front of him, only to take the glass from between his fingers and cradle it in yours. “I can still say no, you know.”

You shrug casually, bringing the glass up to your lips to take a tantalizingly slow sip. You make sure to drink from the side he had drunk from, licking your lips after you let the sensation of the alcohol burn your throat.

His expression stays unreadable, so you make sure he understands what you mean: “To the marriage. I still have an option.”

As you go to set the glass back on the desk where he’s leaned on, you almost stumble causing him to hold you by your hips. You straighten, your nose touching his in the process.

He leans in further, his lips brushing against yours as he looks into your eyes. It feels like he’s staring deeper into your soul, and the thought scares you.

What if he finds things better left untouched?

What if he reads in between the lines of your emotions?

“What makes you think I’d let you?” He whispers to you, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. His hands are still glued to your waist the same way they always are, driving you absolutely mad in every way possible.

“This isn’t very professional now, is it, Mr. Jeon?” You place your hands on his chest as you push him away, solely to put distance between the both of you. A rosy blush kisses your cheeks as his hands find their home on your waist again, only for him to pull you closer.

His tone turns cold, speaking as if he hates the thoughts of you running through his head.

“You think you’re slick, huh?” He chuckles, but it comes out rather evil than lighthearted. You almost flinch.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He stares deep into your eyes again, making your head swim. Your mind is too lost in his eyes to register the position you’re in. You don’t know what to do.

“Showing up to work in a mini-dress, Y/N?” His hand snakes up to rest on your jaw, but it’s a threat. It feels like a threat. You fail to move.

“That’s not very good now, is it?” He smiles, but it’s void of emotion. It’s scary. “Trying to provoke me?” His body is flush against yours now, with him no longer leaning against the desk, but handling your body in a way that makes it impossible for you to move; you don't even know if you want to. He’s taller than you- by far- his frame all too consuming the entirety of your thinking by towering over you.

His hand moves from your jaw to your neck, resting there. You struggle to appear unaffected, knowing very well how miserably you seem to be failing. The way he's looking at you almost seems like he's belittling you, making you doubt yourself every time you look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You breathe out a response, surprising yourself. Why does he have such a great effect on you?

“Playing dumb now, are we?” He coos, mocking you in the way he smiles. His dimple laughs at you.

The hand on your neck flexes, barely cutting off your air suply.

You stay rooted to your spot. Your mind is going in so many different directions that it makes it harder to stay focused. Not that you are- by any means- focused. Your breaths are turning more shallow by the minute, but you love it.

You trust Jungkook, and he knows you do.

You'd trust him with your life, no matter how mad you are at him.

He's sure of it.

“Hm?” His tone grows irritated at your lack of response, so you simply shake your head no- as much as his grip allows you to- at least.

“I already taught you how to use your words, Y/N.” You can’t breathe. Your heart beats in your throat and you just can’t- breathe.

But still, you push through. “Why would I want to provoke you?” You ask instead.

“Don’t you feel betrayed?” Jungkook looks at you now. Fully looks at you. No playfulness, no amusement whatsoever. His hand falls from your neck, coming to rest at your waist.

The question catches you off guard. Where did this suddenly come from?

“Aren’t you hurt?” His eyes turn to ones so deep in feeling, it sets you off. Is he talking about the prior night?

“About?” You mask the emotions struggling to stay veiled by trying to sound as calm as possible.

Don’t show weakness. Your mind screams at you, a desperate attempt to keep you collected.

Of course you feel betrayed. Of course, you feel hurt. How dare he ask when it’s him that’s causing you to feel this way in the first place. All you crave in this particular moment is to unleash. Unleash the anger you’ve been trying so hard to bottle in. Although you crave that from deep within your bones, you stay cool- calm.

All the haze from the earlier teasing dissipates into thin air, and you take the time to properly look at the man before you.

Jungkook looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. He has dark purplish eye bags under his currently heavy lidded eyes; the most beautiful ones you’ve ever been graced to see. Even in the exhaustion clearly evident in them, his eyes hold infinite depths of beauty. They captivate your whole being, leaving you intoxicated by their effect.

“I’m tired, Y/N.” He looks like he’s seconds away from collapsing. He’s angry again, his face fully expressing anger and frustration. But you have the right to be angry, too. Doesn't he think so?

You don’t give a shit if it means you’re being petty. You deserve an apology.

Your eyes squint in defiance at him, and you see his muscles tense further as a response to the action.

“You humiliated me.” You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “You think you deserve the right to be fucking angry, Mr. Jeon?” You jab a finger to his chest.

The formality aims straight for his heart, while the coldness laced in your velvety voice stabs at it further. He stays silent, looks at the floor as his hands fall from your waist, only to hang helplessly on either side of his body. He clenches them into fists, only to unclench them right after. He repeats the action, in hopes of focusing on it instead of you. He doesn’t want to talk about it. About this. He’s thought about it too much, where it’s gotten him to a dead end. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t understand what he feels towards you; it’s a feeling that catches him off-guard.

A feeling he isn’t familiar with. A feeling nobody taught him how to deal with.

You jab a finger to his chest again, “Pick me up at 9, we’re going to the club you suggested the other day.”

Your tone comes out void of emotion- another stab to the heart. His eyes don’t betray the floor he appears to be so fascinated in.

You step away from him, turning away. Just like that, you’ve left the office, leaving Jungkook to drown in the confusion that’s slowly eating away at his mind- little by little, piece by piece.

Little did you know, Jungkook was angry at himself.

next

@hoseokteardrop @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring@bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @nochuel @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdoll @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime

[queenquinzel715]

Jethro Gibbs An undercover job turns to romance

Wrd count: 4,313

Warning: adult content, knife cutting (no self harm)

Jethro Gibbs (I know nothing about the military protocols so just believe it lol)

(Y/n) P.O.V

My morning was going just like all the others. I'd wake up, eat breakfast, fill my travel mug with coffee, and go to work. However halfway through my eggs, bacon, and toast when my cell phone rings. I sigh as I place my book down, and answer.

"(L/n)." I answer.

"(Y/n) we need you to come in. We have a… well the best type hinky." I hear Abby's cheery voice.

"Okay I'll be right there." I hung up with her.

I quickly get dressed into my scrubs, pull my hair into a high ponytail. Once on the road I make a quick stop for gas, and a couple drinks for my fellow colleagues. As I walk into the NCIS building I greet security and others as I get into the elevator. I hear heavy metal music as the doors open, and it brings a smile to my face.

"Good morning, Abby." I smile at her as I place her big gulp next to her quick fingers.

"Y/n you doll." Abby gives me a big smile before she takes a sip.

"What's the big hinky?" I laugh at her excited smile.

"Well this morning Gibbs and his gang had a call to this military housing neighborhood, and found a newlywed couple completely torn apart." She informs me.

"And?" I push because I know there's more by here turning to the computer screen.

"I've already found a handful of murders that were just swept under the rug, because they didn't have any sort of evidence." She walks over to a table. "Until I figured out the weapon is both a hunter's knife, and a scalpel." She then smiles in triumph.

"It's like you're a psychic, and you just give us pieces to throw us off." I laugh with her, but it's short lived by Special Agent Gibbs walking in with a box full of evidence.

"Abby, this is for you. (Y/n) I need you upstairs." He walks back toward the door. "Thanks for getting her here, Abbs." He says just as he walks out.

I give Abby a quick look before quickly walking to the elevator. Gibbs and I stay in silence the whole way until we get to the group looking at multiple people's pictures on a screen.

"(Y/n) great." McGee says. "We need you to go on an undercover operation. I just need you to pick a male that will pass for a Marine." He runs off like I knew what he was talking about.

"Gibbs?" I look at him with a pointed look, hoping he'd fill in the spots.

"We know the killer is going after newlyweds, so you are the bride." He smirks once he's finished. "I already have an idea of who it is, but of course we need to prove I'm right. I picked you for this." He ends his speech there.

"Okay." I turn to McGee. "What do I need to do?"

The rest of the day I'm given a crash course on how the undercover business works, and once I was done with my three hours course I found out that Gibbs is going to be my husband. I returned to the gang's area, and saw Gibbs watching the others talk.

"So my dear husband, how will our wedding work, hmm? Quick courthouse, or are you just gonna throw me over your shoulder like a caveman." I joke as I sit on the corner of his desk.

"Well I was thinking the club over the head would be easier." He smirks at me when I gasp. "You asked."

"So seriously, does this start immediately today?" I ask, grabbing the file about the suspect.

"You are a free woman until tomorrow night, and then we will sign the marriage certificate. I will get my uniforms, the address we will set up, and we will begin then." He puts away his belongings, and as he stands he pulls on his coat. "Chinese or pizza?" He asks.

"Chinese." I respond as I follow behind him.

This has been a new norm for me and Gibbs for a couple months now. I was pretty bad when I had to end my engagement, because my fiance was sleeping with our neighbor. An entire five year relationship down the drain. I didn't leave the lab for two weeks before Gibbs and Abby came knocking on my door. Apparently Abby had some concerns for my sanity so she went to Gibbs, and he came straight to the lab. Ever since then he has taken me to dinner every other day, or brings me dinner in the lab.

Tonight, we sit inside a little Chinese restaurant eating in a comfortable silence. With Gibbs I've learned, to much relief, I don't have to speak unless I absolutely want to.

"How's the boat coming along?" I ask as we throw away our trash.

"Pain in the ass." He chuckles.

-next morning-

I walked into the office a little bit early with coffees, and sat at Gibb's desk until I saw DiNozzo walk in with Kate in a heated discussion.

"Oh please DiNozzo all because you think it's him doesn't mean it is." Kate rolls her eyes at him, but lights up when she sees me holding a coffee cup in the air for her.

"(Y/n) you've read the files right?" I give DiNozzo nod in response. "Okay so don't you think it's Corporal Simon. He just fits every creepy fib." He acts like he's shaking.

"All because he's creepy doesn't mean anything, DiNozzo." Gibbs says before I could open my mouth. "And you. Why are you at my desk?" He says in my direction.

I simply hold up the coffee cup.

"Aw lovely wife boss." DiNozzo gets smacked in the back of the head for that.

For the next couple of hours I'm with Abby in the lab testing blood samples, fingerprints, and retesting the little bit of evidence for the past murders. By two in the afternoon Gibbs came to the lab to collect me, and my bags to go to our new home. Once there we five the whole moving in show I'm giving direction to Gibbs and DiNozzo as they carry furniture. Inside I'm dying of laughter, because every time Gibbs gives me a side eye I know he wants to tell me something smart. We had pizza delivered and sent DiNozzo back to the office.

"How do you want the sleeping arrangements to go?" I ask as I clean up the trash.

"Well I usually fall asleep in my boat." He speaks in a voice full of normalcy.

"Gibbs! That's not good." I fuss. "You told me "you can't do things that harm your body, or we won't solve shit" and look at you breaking your body down." I continued to fuss, and didn't realize Gibbs had gotten up from the table.

"Yea. I know." His voice comes right behind me as his hand drops the fork into the sink. "Then tell me where to sleep." He looks into my eyes.

"I put bedding in both rooms, so just pick one." I nervously turn back toward the sink.

"I'll take the room closer to the living room just in case." He grabs our bags by the doors, and goes toward the rooms.

Over the next couple days Gibbs, Kate, DiNozzo, and McGee have ran around the entire Marine Base to find who's actually the murder, but since I'm the stay at home wife I'm doing home things. I've taken broken down boxes to the trash, messed in the garden in the front yard, and went grocery shopping at the grocery store on base to meet other stay at home wives. As I'm taking the groceries into the house I hear a female yell hello through the front door. I secure my gun in the waist of my pants before walking to the door. A brunette woman is standing with a big smile, and a wrap covered plate.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted to say hello, and welcome you to the neighborhood." She smiles at me. "My name is Christine."

"Well that's so kind. I'd invite you inside, but the place is a complete mess." I give a smile as I take the plate.

"Oh I understand. I just wanted to drop off some sweets, and let you know if you need anything I can help. I work in the main office, so I can pull some strings." She gives me a wink.

"Well that's comforting to know." I laugh. "Thank you again, but I have to get dinner started before my husband Jethro comes home." I give a small wave as I shut the door watching her walk down the driveway.

I place the plate on the counter as I call Gibbs.

"Yes Mrs. Gibbs?" He answers.

"I was wondering when you will be back. I just met the most wonderful person." I vaguely respond.

"Be back in an hour. Everything okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, perfectly fine." I reassure him, and he hangs up.

Just like clockwork, an hour later Gibbs, and Kate walk through the door. I'm pulling the chicken out of the oven as Kate walks into the kitchen.

"Smells great (y/n)." She comments.

"Thank you. I love cooking." I hand her a plate, which she takes with a great smile.

"So who was this neighbor you met today?" Gibbs gets to the point as I walk to the table where they have everything set up.

"A woman named Christine. She didn't exactly say she was a neighbor, just that she worked in the main office and could pull some strings in case I needed anything, and handed me the plate of cookies there on the counter." I say pointing to the still wrapped plate. "Told her I had to get dinner ready for my new husband Jethro." As I fill him in on what else happened in my day I'm fixing both of our plates, because I realized he hasn't even looked in the kitchen direction.

"She does have access to high documents, and can cut through a lot of red tape." Gibbs informs me, and gives me a thank you nod when he takes the plate.

"Wait, can I see the witness report again?" I ask, and Kate hands it to me.

I read through the report, and found where a witness saw a brunette white woman, with long legs, short torso, and pointed face. I place the paper down as I point out the passage I read.

"This describes Christine." I inform them.

"I figured." Gibbs sighs. "We'll follow up on this in the morning. Thank you." He holds up the paper as he drinks the rest of his beer.

Once dinner is over Kate leaves. Gibbs goes to the garage, and I to the bath. I can't help but think how this is so simple for us. How we fit into the role perfectly, but I know it has to end. After I clean the rest of the kitchen I come out to find Gibbs glaring at the evidence board from the garage door. I take his empty bottle, replacing it with a new one.

"You already know who's doing this, don't you?" I lean against the table.

He leans next to me with his arms crossed.

"My gut tells me it's Christine. The evidence we have points to her office." He shakes his head.

I give him a hum in response as I stand on my feet. I can feel his eyes watching me while I walk toward my room. I do turn back at him with a soft smile before going to the door. I throw on my tank top and shorts for bed, and end up just laying there in frustration. I haven't had any sort of touch since my ex, but I can't do anything like that here with Gibbs' falcon hearing. I lay there for three hours until I've had enough, and I throw the blankets off me. I grumble under my breath as I open my bedroom door, but I quietly walk down the hall to the kitchen. I pull pb&j stuff out only for the garage door to open. I grab the large knife from the knife stand, and throw it at the door, only for it to get stuck in the doorframe.

"Whoa! It's me." Gibbs holds his hands up as he comes into the light better.

"Oh my God Jethro I'm so sorry." I run toward him, but he grabs my hand before I could grab his.

"Good throw." He keeps my hands into his one while he pulls the knife out of the wall.

"Good throw?! Gibbs, that's all you can say?" I keep freaking out.

"I thought it was Jethro." He looks into my eyes with a smirk.

He lets go of my hands to go put the knife back. He then starts making a sandwich.

"I…well..it just came out." I stumble over my words, and my face heats up.

"I think you should get used to calling me Jethro." He keeps his back to me while he speaks.

I'm too nervous to say anything, but he soon turns with two sandwiches in his hands. He holds out one to me with a paper towel wrapped around it as he takes a bite of his.

"Thank you Jethro." I smile as I take the sandwich.

We end up sitting on the counter, and Jethro telling me stories. We laugh, I joke about his military days, and he jokes about my technical "support" skills. The sun is starting to rise as my eyes become heavy.

"You should go get some sleep." He softly says.

"You're right, but so should you." I look over at him as he gets down.

"I will." He softly holds my arm as I get off the counter.

We separate into our rooms, and he is gone by the time I wake up. I stay inside for the day, and just watch movies. My phone rings as I'm stepping into the bath, and it's Jethro. I sit on the side of the tubs as I answer.

"Yes Jethro?"

"I have pizza for dinner." He simply tells me.

"That's nice." I sarcastically respond, trying not to laugh.

"I'll get you garlic bread. What is that noise?" He has the most annoying hearing.

"That is the bathtub water running." I run my foot in the hot water.

"I'll be there in an hour." He then hangs up causing me to laugh.

I'm too relaxed to hear the front door opening, but when I hear doors opening I call out for Jethro. When I don't get a response I slowly get out of the bath, wrapping my house robe on. I'm about to reach for the gun I have in my nightstand when the door is burst open. I give a scream of surprise, but I'm quickly shut up by a gun being pointed at me. Christine comes creeping into the room with a hard look in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I keep up the act, hopefully I can stall until Jethro gets here.

"Living room, now." She demands.

I timidly walk to the living room with my hands raised, and slowly sit on the couch. I watch her look around the living room, and kitchen before she comes in front of me. She points her gun at my head as she sits on the table directly in front of me.

"So tell me how long have you and hubby been together?" She asks, sounding sweet.

"Y..year." I look confused.

"Ahhh newly newlyweds." She stood to go over to the bag she had put on the loveseat. "I was with my husband for six years before we decided to get married." She turns with rope and a knife in her hands. "We then were married for two before he was deployed. He was a Marine that was sent overseas, obviously that's all he could tell me. I was kept in the dark the whole time while my husband was tortured by terrorists." She takes her seat back on the table. "Tell me what do you think Jethro would do if you were taken."

"I…I don't know. I'd hope he'd help me." I shake from her moving the knife closer.

"Sad isn't it? Shouldn't the answer be something on the lines of "he'd burn the whole world apart" or "he'd never stop looking"?" She cuts the arms of my robe open to the elbow. "You want to know what the US military does to help their Marines?" I scream from her cutting a short cut going down my arm. "Quiet!" She shoves pieces of robe into my mouth. "Four men died because the US tried to play into the terrorists computer, instead of simply allowing the terrorists into the Union, and they would let the Marines go." She cuts another line. "They could've said they would allow it, get the Marines, and then grab the terrorists!" Her voice gets louder as she goes.

I see movement from the corner of my eye, but I keep watching Christine move the knife around. She goes to cut my arm again when the front door, garage door, and backdoor open.

"Freeze NCIS!" I hear from my three favorite people.

Jethro comes in through the backdoor, DiNozzo through the garage door, and Kate comes in the front with their guns raised. Christine looks at me in surprise as she drops the knife and gun. Jethro softly grabs my face to make me lock eyes with him.

"I'm here. Come on." He helps me stand, walk to my room while the others handcuff Christine.

I'm quiet as Jethro cleans up my wounds with the first aid kit I keep in my bag. I'm so out of it my robe opens slightly, and I didn't realize until Jethro closed it more. He gives a deep sigh as he cleans up the trash.

"Thank you Jethro." I timidly tell him as he goes to walk out.

He turns back, and kisses me hard with a hand on my cheek, his other on my thigh. I grip his shirt in my hands as I kiss him back. We pull apart after a moment, and rest our heads against each other.

That night my nerves were level, and everythings calmed down. I start packing up, and put the bags in the garage for the guys to load up. Tomorrow the movers will come for the rest.

"Ready." Jethro walks up to me, grabbing my bag.

"Yes. I checked everywhere to make sure nothing was left." I tell him as we walk to his car.

"Tomorrow morning we need to meet at the director's office." He informs me, once we are on the road.

He helps me carry my bags into my apartment, and shuts the door. I softly smile at him as he walks toward me. I rest my hands on his shoulders as his hand rests on my waist. He kisses me deeply as he pulls me to his chest. I melt against him, having my fingers run along his shaved hair. I gasp when we pull back, but his warm hands moving up my back makes me softly moan.

"Room." He orders.

"Yes sir." I give him a sly smile as I walk him toward my room.

I hear him chuckle as he follows me, but once to the door he pulls me in from my waist. I throw my shirt off so I can feel his hands again. While he works on the buttons of my pants he gives me soft kisses to my neck. I lean my head against his shoulder just melting against him. The feeling of being protected feels so much more different, but amazing. He flattens his hands to slide my pants down, and he lets me walk out of them. I turn to him, locking eyes with him as I lay on my bed.

"You sure about this?" He asks me while untucking his shirt.

"I'm more than sure." I give him a straight answer.

Once he gets down to his boxers he crawls over me with a dark look in his eyes. I put my hands on his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss. His skillful hands unhook my bra, making me throw it behind him. I move my hand along his shoulders while he kisses along my neck to my chest.

"Jethro." I moan softly when his lips wrap around my nipple.

He wraps his arm around my lower back pulling me closer, biting lightly on my nipple. His other hand moves my underwear down, but once he got to my thigh, he had pulled back to snatch them off my ankles. My legs open back up for him to lay comfortably in between them. He looks me in the eyes as he slides his boxers off. My knees rest on his hips, relaxing into the bed, feeling him rub against my entrance. Him slowly entering me makes a shiver take over my body, but Jethro deeply groans. His hand grips my thigh in a tight grip, causing it to rise higher.

"(Y/n)." He rests his head on my shoulder.

"Please move Jethro." I whine.

He starts to move back some only to piston back inside. My body arches up to his chest, and my throat closes on the scream that wants to leave. All I could do was grip his bicep, lock my ankles together, and enjoy the feeling of him stretching me. The feeling of his hands, his deep harsh movements, and the tightening feeling in my stomach. I start to lose my mind.

"Let go for me." He groans in my ear before he kisses my neck.

He kisses me as he goes harder making it very difficult to let my moans out, but I just hold onto his back as he just lets go. With a deep groan and final thrust Jethro and I finish together with a loud moan from me. He lays next to me with an arm under my head as we catch our breath.

"Wow." I breathed out.

He chuckles, turning over, and grips my lips with his forefinger and thumb. I giggle as we kiss a lot more softly now. We lay together for a while before finally getting in the shower. I did think Jethro was going to leave, however when I went back to lay down he joined me. I slept amazing with his warmth next to me whenever I would turn.

When I wake up I see a hand placing a coffee mug on my nightstand, and a hand rubbing along my side.

"You got to wake up. We still have to work." He talks quietly in my ear.

"Thank you." I smile as I reach for the mug.

"You are quite welcome." He chuckles as he grabs his clothes.

"Jethro!" I giggle at his joke, placing my hand over my eye.

"I'll see you at the office. I have to change." He says as he throws his clothes on.

Once he leaves I finish my coffee, get dressed, and try to keep the smile off my face as I walk into the office.

"Well what made you so smiley this morning?" Abby asks as I walk into the lab, and pull on my lab coat.

"I'm just glad to have my bed back." Is all I tell her.

"Is that so?" I hear behind me.

I turned to a smirking Jethro holding a cardboard cup holder with two coffees, and in his hand was a big gulp for Abby.

"Jet…Gibbs." I exclaim almost messing up.

"Morning Abs." He hands her the drink, and walks back to me.

"(Y/n)." He hands me a coffee. "Director needs us." He leans me with a hand on my lower back to the elevator.

"I'm sorry I didn't know if you were okay with me saying anything, or if…" I'm stopped by him stepping closer to me.

He kisses me softly like he's been doing so for his whole life. I'm just about to relax into him when the elevator opens, and there stands Kate and McGee. They are shocked when they finally realize what they just saw. I step out of the elevator, quickly getting to the director's office. I stop at his door, and wait for Jethro. Jethro walks up the hall with purpose, and goes right into the office.

"Alright let's get you two divorced." Director Morrow places the papers in front of Jethro.

"What if we don't sign?" Jethro asks so nonchalantly.

Director Morrow looks lost as he turns his attention to me, then back to Jethro. I'm just frozen from shock.

"I'll let you two talk." Vance leaves quickly, and once he's gone Jethro turns to me.

"What are you doing Jethro?" I timidly ask.

"Well I was thinking how easy it was for us to be together this week." He starts. "We don't have to sign just yet. Let's give it some time, and then if you want we can sign these papers." He lifts them as he speaks.

"So you're making me number three?" I sass.

He shrugs as he throws the papers back on the director's desk. The rest of the day DiNozzo gave Jethro so much crap about how he didn't get to throw a bachelor party. I also got an ear full from Abby about how I should get a big dress. Kate was like an older sister asking me if being married is what I wanted. Her being Catholic marriage is a big thing, but after telling her how I felt, she understood.

[astrosky33]

HOUSE MEANINGS IN ASTROLOGY

[READ] People often question why there’s so many meanings for each planet/house and the reason is so that you can learn more than just one thing about yourself through each placement. Otherwise astrology would be very vague and boring. These are all meanings that I’ve learned from my astrology classes at Kepler College

1ST HOUSE: identity/self, outward personality traits, outlook on life/approach to life, appearance, physical body, beauty, confidence, beginnings, how you initiate/ambition, your mannerisms, your outward behavior, physical fights, your presence, individuality, and passion

2ND HOUSE: money/finances (how we spend it, store it, and manage it), work, short term jobs, your work ethic, material possessions, self worth, values, emotional security, stability, financial security, how you meet financial obligations, your singing voice, giving/receiving, and resources (both material and non material)

3RD HOUSE: communication, your speaking voice/the way you talk, your mind, the way you think/your thinking skills, your perceptions, your opinions, your conscious mind, neighbors, siblings, interests, gossip, ideas/information, mathematics, literature, transportation (only ground not flying/air), local media, social media, cell phones, phone calls, visits, social activity, publishing, early education (before college), short trips, and short journeys

4TH HOUSE: homes/houses, family/family roots, your parents (particularly the mother/motherly figure), your inner child, emotions, foundations, your childhood, heredity, tradition, self-care, places of residence, real estate, properties, femininity, and conditions in early life

5TH HOUSE: children, childlike spirit, talent, creativity, drama, risk-taking, spotlight, romance (shows short term relationships, flings, hookups, and if long term relationships then only puppy love), hobbies, pleasures, objects of affection, vacations, games, speculation, fertility, concerts, festivals, and joy

6TH HOUSE: daily routine/day to day life/daily tasks, your health/fitness/the work you do on your body, your duties, self improvement, consistency, step-siblings, your hygiene, innocence, systems, service to others, co-workers, analytical nature, diets, animals, and your pets

7TH HOUSE: long term relationships, marriage, concern for others, attraction/attractiveness, charm, conflicts, partnerships, business partners, contracts, love affairs, open enemies, close associates, lower courts, negotiations, peers, agents, equality, harmony, and sharing

8TH HOUSE: major transformation, sex, death, longevity, changes, joint/shared finances, investments, stock market, your partners resources, taxes, inheritance, reproduction, seduction, intimacy (in general not only sexual), rebirth, merging, taboos, resurrection, loans, assets, secrets, mystery, businesses, spiritual transformation, magic (especially black magic), psychology, surgery/operations, trauma, periods, and the occult

9TH HOUSE: wisdom, law/laws, beliefs, religion, philosophy, higher education (college/university), viewpoints, languages, foreign environments, in-laws (your relatives through marriage), ethics, long journeys, travel, ideologies, higher courts, media, television, interviews, cross-cultural relations, grandparents, and learning

10TH HOUSE: your legacy, your career, your public image, your status, your reputation, fame, long-term goals, worldly attainment, sense of mission, responsibilities, recognition, authority, father/fatherly figure, experts, bosses, achievements, and professional aspirations

11TH HOUSE: friends, friend groups, gains, money made from career, desires, step/half parents, step/half children, uniqueness, inventions, technology, film, social awareness, influence, manifestations, hopes and wishes for the future, ideals, humanitarianism, associates (not just close ones), groups (in general), politics, social networking, where you make your debut into society, companions, allies, science, socialization/social interaction, clubs, organizations, and parties

12TH HOUSE: healing, the hidden, karma, karmic debts, old age, sleep, mental health, solitude/isolation, dreams (the ones you have when you sleep), hidden enemies, hidden causes, illusions, secret bed pleasures, spirituality, fears, losses, endings, escapism, impersonations, closure, need for withdrawal/privacy, afterlife, limiting beliefs, subsconcious memory, subconscious mind, hypnotism, self-undoing, hidden desires, the past, delay, and restrictions

MASTERLIST

MORE BEGINNER ASTROLOGY

PLANET MEANINGS

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[drdemonprince]

okay I just finished the new contrapoints video finally and wowww was i the exact right amount of high for the final synthesis and conclusion to feel profound. she certainly gives one a lot of interesting things to chew on regarding one's own preferred sexual role, fantasies, and those things' relationship to one's position within society.

i enjoyed it and got a lot of you know r/stonerthoughts from it while also honestly still harboring some deep doubt in her assertion that the equating of sexuality with a power dynamic is inherent to humanity and not a vestige of christianity, exploitative economic relations, and imperialism. kinda seems like every single one of your reference points for this claim is a white european from the past couple centuries natalie!!

her argument that all sex is ultimately about power because it always comes with the risk of the loss of the self just uhhh doesn't quite have enough evidence behind it. if she's taking about the risk of pregnancy in the time before the sexual revolution, that's both ahistorical and still completely ignores queer desire. if she's talking about the loss of self that comes through the merging of property/ via marriage, that again is impossible divorce from our current cultural and economic milieu. can't say that eroticitizing those things is inherent, because you're looking at people's erotics in a culture where those things already exist.

and if she's talking about the obsession and self-negation of eros, which i am certain she would claim that she is, she is also the person to state in this video that eros cannot last and settles into bland unerotic affection virtually every time, if a romance lasts long enough. so is everyone really that terrified of falling into all-consuming love, that they eroticize it as a kind of domination? i dont think that's how most people have experienced or do experience their relationships. and i dont think people are afraid of their lusts inherently either -- why would they be, if not for cultural shame or the risk of loss introduced by the restrictions of the law and the church?

natalie claims that the law and church partially exist to place rules around sexuality and romance, to control these wild, inherently violent and destructive passions so that people don't misuse them. but again, it feels very uhh, citation needed. very christian to assume that. as if there haven't been many cultures throughout time and across the globe that have not experienced sexuality in that way, or considered gender in terms of the european "masculine" and "feminine" either.

and besides that, it's not like every culture has had much of a significant place for "eros" as a concept, has it? lots of cultures haven't really viewed relationships in terms of passionate love whatsoever, including even some of the european ones she references so much.

it all sounds very compelling of the surface, her arguments, but only if you're operating from a place of complete eurocentrism.

[honeyynymphh]

An Ever-Fixed Mark

|| Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader/OC || Rating: T (for now) Chapter: 1 of 5 Words: 2.8k

Married to Aemond Targaryen, life at court has not been what Lady Brakenwyn ever imagined. It is monotonous and lifeless inside the Red Keep with a husband who does care for her and who would rather spend coin in the slums of Kings Landing than with his own wife. She can't help but let her mind wander and yearn for the affections of a man who pays her the slightest attention - a man that she cannot have: the Hand of the King. Tags: pining, forbidden romance, infidelity, author is prone to purple prose (tags will be updated as story progresses) Ao3 Link

A/N: This story is in first person so can be read as a reader insert or as an OC, she is not described nor does she have a first name. No Y/N. Reader is married to Aemond but he is barely in the story. I have not read any books so I am operating on vibes mostly. I just want to write about that old man.

How embarrassing it was to be wed to a child. At least, that was what I felt my life had become. While Aemond Targaryen was a man grown, he still clung to the temperament of boyhood and delighted too much in the station he had been born with. The banquet hall was loud and raucous with the sound of happy chatter and laughter. Though I felt no joy as I sat at the large table on my own, watching my husband whisper to some other lady in a dark corner. I knew our marriage was nothing more than a political alliance and also some sort of punishment for the prince. Or perhaps not a punishment, but a desperate hope that he would act more as a prince should if he were wed. So quickly had I seen the foolishness in such a notion that I was surprised anyone had thought our union was a good idea.

I sighed and stared into my wine cup. I wished to be anywhere but here in the Red Keep, and certainly not at this name day celebration for a man I had tried to love and only grown to resent. As soon as I had arrived in King’s Landing I felt as if I didn’t belong. Where I was older than the prince, I felt out of place in court amongst those my own age. The other ladies were polite but we had not grown together so to them I was nothing but an outsider. The queen was kind to me, in a sort of distant fashion. I felt her disappointment in me, as if I could fix Aemond and unite mother and son once more - more foolishness. I snuck a glance at her and could see the annoyance that caused her lovely face to frown as she watched her second son.

“My lady, would you dance with me?”

The words startled me from my musings and I glanced across the table to see Ser Henry, at least I was sure that was his name. I knew him to be one of Prince Aegon’s Kingsguard, though I frequently saw him speaking with Aemond. He seemed to be the only one who even acknowledged my existence. I was certain that my husband had sent him over to me, to entertain me…to keep me happy. Aemond treated me as if I were one of the family’s dragons, not that I was capable of much strength nor fire breathing or flight. But I was capable of making more little baby dragons and that was all my worth had become, not that he put any effort into such an endeavor.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded at the knight, before making my way towards him. I took his proffered hand and let him lead me into the crush of people dancing amongst the glowing candelabras. I barely paid attention to anything but the music, the glorious sound of lutes and harps mingling together to create such beautiful sounds as I let him lead me across the floor. This I knew would be the closest I ever came to flying, no matter how hard I prayed to the gods to give me wings so I could leave this place.

“He says you should try and look happy,” whispered Ser Henry, his lips barely moving.

My face twitched but I mostly kept it blank as I stared at a point over his armoured shoulder.

“Maybe he should try and make me happy,” I said.

“Lady Brakenwyn.”

It was just my name, my old name, but it was a warning. The ‘Lady from the Riverlands’ was all I was to those in King’s Landing, even though I had not set foot there since I had been a child. As a ward of House Hightower, I had spent most of my life in Oldtown and had assumed I’d be promised to someone in the Reach. How I wish my mother hadn’t been such a scheming woman and my father so happy let her do as she pleased.

“He will send you back to the Riverlands.”

In a box, was clearly left unsaid. Foolishness on my part, that had been, to think my mother would be content with a match from a noble house in the Reach. No, my houses’ army and fealty was worth a Prince.

I held my tongue, not wishing to argue when I knew it would be in vain. It was pointless the threats, I knew they needed my parents fealty and would not displease House Brakenwyn by sending back their only child in a wooden casket. How stupid I had been a year ago to think coming to King’s Landing would be like in the stories, that I would be happy to be wed to a prince and to live in such a castle with the rulers of Westeros. How I missed how hopeful and joyous I had been before coming here.

But I would not let my melancholy ruin one of my only pleasures as Ser Henry continued to sweep me across the stone floor, his steps were a little erratic and his grip unsure but it improved my mood drastically. The music changed, the melody becoming more upbeat and while I could not recall the name of it, I knew it well. It was accompanied by a simple dance that involved changing partners and swinging steps, it was the sort of dance better suited for warm nights outside, not trapped in a stone room. But that didn’t deter me, I was happy as I switched Ser Henry to dance with a stout but cheerful nobleman, red in the face from drink who laughed heartily as he spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh in response to his merriment, even as he repeatedly stood on my feet. My spirits grew when I heard the sound of Princess Helaena’s laughter drift towards me. My head turned to see her as she danced with her grandfather, who smiled at her in such a way that I wished so desperately to have bestowed upon my own person.

It would not do for me to stare, and I did try not to, but I couldn’t help it as the dance drew us near. Helaena smiled dreamily at me, as was her way, before I was suddenly in the arms of the Hand of the King. Unlike the unsure grip of Ser Henry and the over eagerness of the drunken nobleman, Otto Hightower held me with an assuredness and reverence that made my heart swell. The Hand was one of the few people I spoke to at length, as I frequently saw him in the castle library. His gentle manner and keen mind had managed to captivate me, and though I knew it was fatuous to have such thoughts about a man, not only so much older than I, but the grandfather of my own husband, I could do nothing to stop the growing fondness I felt for him.

I smiled at him, unable to help how earnest it was despite my inner admonishments. Afterwards, I would pray that he only thought my exuberance due to the dancing and not him. I didn’t wish to embarrass myself. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately in the case of idiotic fantasies, I was back with Ser Henry, watching as Ser Otto and Helaena were lost in the crowd.

“That’s better, my lady,” said Ser Henry at the expression on my face. “You look so much prettier when you smile. Perhaps you should dance more often.”

I merely nodded in response, it was pointless to speak any further.

When my feet throbbed, no thanks to the drunken nobleman, I returned to the high table and gave my thanks to Alicent, who had been busy attentively whispering in the King’s ear, before slinking out of the Great Hall and to my chambers. I had no desire to speak to Aemond, I had already given him my well wishes in the morning and that had been received as well as anything I ever said to him, which was mostly indifference.

It was much cooler in the empty corridors of the Keep and the silence a welcome respite from the manic noise of the celebrations. I walked distractedly until I pushed through the heavy door and into my room. My chambers were linked to Aemond’s, though it was a passage several feet in length with a heavy door at each end. His door was frequently locked. At first I had locked my own until I realised he had a key and would let himself in, usually to cast judgements upon me. I thought our shared interest in reading would have brought us close but all it did was earn his ire. He didn’t trust me and I had learnt not to trust him. I did not know where Aegon spent most of his nights, or more aptly, whom he spent them with. But I did not care, as long as he left me alone.

The next day dawned slowly, the sun's rays gradually filtering through the high windows of the windows of the Red Keep as if she too were reluctant to rise from her bed. I usually awoke early, preferring to spend the morning in the godswood as it was often empty, though I allowed myself a longer rest after the nights dancing. The bird calls were gentle and the breeze soft when I reached the godswood. Sometimes out here I could pretend I was not trapped in a prison of stone as I sat on a bench and let the wind gently caress my face, the fresh air lifting my spirits. It was a tranquil place that felt disconnected from the Red Keep in a way that I relished. I had chosen a dress of periwinkle blue, I so rarely wore the colours of House Targaryen - a small rebellion on my part, and I admired the way the sunlight made the fabric glitter, reminding me of the Honeywine River during twilight.

I did not linger long as I knew Ser Otto would be in the library at this time, he did not spend every day there but I had learnt his routine without even thinking to do so. Every so often, I made sure to arrive either early or late, so that it would not seem as if I followed him like some unwanted shadow. Perhaps all we would say to each other would be a greeting, but it was enough to keep my melancholy at bay. There were few comfortable chairs but many tables, usually covered in scrolls and other texts. Ser Otto was fond of a small desk in one of the alcoves as it was near a high window, the light filtering through making it easier to read. One of the few chairs that were nearby was my favourite as it allowed me to curl within it like a cat so I could read and bask in the warmth of the sunshine. I hadn’t even noticed him the first time we had shared that little alcove.

I took my usual spot, opening the book I had been reading and settled in. The Hand had not arrived yet and I was uncertain as to whether he would come today after last night. I knew a council meeting would be held soon and surely he would prefer to rest before attending. But my disappointment at these thoughts were short lived when I heard his measured footsteps, I knew the sound by heart. I pretended not to notice him until his low and soft gravelly words greeted me. That was all we said before he sat down to work. I did not ask what he did, I didn’t think it was my business to enquire into the workings of the Hand of the King, but I was glad for it.

I shouldn’t have observed him as closely as I did. My eyes shouldn’t have lingered over the way his hand held the quill and how deftly it would sweep across the page as he took notes. Occasionally, while reading, he would lick the tip of his finger so he could turn a page. I’d feel my breath stick in my throat then as if I could feel his mouth upon my own body. Aemond rarely lay with me, I think I could count upon one hand the few times we had been together as husband and wife. But when we had, he had been so bare, so smooth—the only hair on him that which was on his head. If it wasn’t for his eye, he would be a blank canvas. Ser Otto looked worn in the way that a favourite book did. There were stories there. How I yearned deep in the pit of my belly to trace the lines of his face and to feel his beard scratch against my inner thigh.

I took in a shuddering breath at that thought and looked away, feeling the heat suffuse my face. I knew he was looking at me then and I heard the creak of his chair as he came to stand before me.

“My lady, are you well?” His low voice rumbled and I nodded my head in response. “Are you certain?”

I gathered my scattered wits and looked up at him. “Yes, my lord hand.”

He smiled at me, a small but reassuring quirk of the lips. I treasured it, even though I knew it was nothing more than some sort of perfunctory affection on his part. I was the wife of one of his grandchildren and from a house aligned with the Hightowers. I knew this to be true yet I could not squash the terrible hope within me that he meant it.

I knew I needed to stop this ridiculous fascination. But I clung to it, even more so in the nights. When I lay alone and in the silence of the Keep, with nothing more than the sound of rain pouring against the glass panes, I would think of him and pretend he held me. That he would whisper such sweet things in my ear and offer comfort that I had not felt in years…comfort I don’t think I’d ever truly felt.

Perhaps it was the unattainable nature of it all that enthralled me so. It was a safe dream to have, even though it gnawed at my guilty conscience. Why should I not have such thoughts? It wasn’t as if I were the one spending most nights in the Street of Silk. Even if I had shared a room with my husband, I would have been alone.

The seventh day was tomorrow and I knew I would have to pray even harder for my fanciful mind. I looked down at the book in my lap and tried to go back to the passage I was reading but I barely took a word in.

“It was good to see you enjoying the evening’s festivities during Aemond’s name day celebrations.”

I looked up at Ser Otto again to find his attention was still fixed on me as he waited for my response.

“You dance very well,” I said, wishing I had something more intelligent to say.

“For an old man?”

I blanched and hastily tried to correct his assumptions. “No! I didn’t mean that, Lord Hand, I was simply expressing my commendation.” I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “I do not think you are old.”

The man smiled, an eyebrow raising in amusement. I realised suddenly he had been jesting with me.

“It’s been a long time,” he said with a sigh, “but if your only comparison is Ser Henry and Lord Lyrmount, then I would seem full of grace.” He smiled again at me, it was small but conspiratorial in the way it lingered about his mouth. “I hope your feet have recovered well enough.”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied even as my feet throbbed in remembrance of Lord Lyrmount's clumsy steps.

He said no more and I knew our conversation ended for the day, but how I treasured it and the small but pleasurable smiles he had given me. He packed his things then, I noted how neatly he always did so, and I was constantly drawn to the precise movements of his hands and tried to ignore the thoughts of said hands touching my skin with the same careful reverence that he gave those old books.

As he left, I felt I had achieved something momentous with him being able to jest with me, as if I were waging some little war for his affection - despite how foolhardy the battle was. I tried to tell myself he merely tolerated me because of my marriage but I couldn’t help but think he did like me, in a way. He could have sat anywhere else in the library or avoided me completely - I knew there was ample space in the Tower of the Hand and he had no need to be here.

I smiled to myself at this small victory and happily returned to my book as the footsteps of the Hand faded into the distance.

A/N: I wrote a lot of this with COVID brain fog so I apologise if anything makes no sense.

Title is from Sonnet 116 by Shakespeare

[sapionic]

The 5th House: Romance and Kids

The Astrology Break Down of the 5th house in Astrology.

Take into account that degrees matter due to the decans and the rulership of those as well, but we are not going into that part in this post. Personally, I am still piecing together the degrees in general. I know what each degree is ruled by, but the variations and more have to be studied.

I am actually going to be posting regarding the Planets and NOT the signs. We already know what the signs represent, but the planets really show you what's up.

Mars in the 5th house makes a person impulsive in their intimate/romantic endeavors. Things happen quickly. They don't care to wait or anything. They want it now, quick, and fast. Kids could even come about early for a person with this planet in their 5th house. This causes a person to be quite bold and assertive with their love and lovers. This planet brings about speed to a person's sex life and romance is probably always happening. They can break up with one and end up getting action from others. They initiate with their desires. Kids could also come about due to being in the moment.

Saturn in the 5th house is actually good because this makes someone very disciplined in matters of becoming a parent. We know that Saturn talks about longevity or time so this is someone likely to have kids with someone they have known for a while unless it just ends up being an older person. It's probably not going to be an older person all the time, but you can bet time was put into their connection with the person before a kid came about. This can make someone quite stern in how they scan a person's worthiness of their intimacy as well. This is someone that zones in on everything about a person. They will remember their sexual experiences with detail and the same with their sexual encounters. Love could have even started early for them and something transpired that caused them to slow down in their future dealings. Usually this supports them anyway even though they may not feel like it does when they are focused on what they want.

Sun in the 5th house likely will have kids with someone who actually makes them happy. They are likely going to make sure their relationship is solid and fulfilling before they even think about having a kid with someone. Happiness is important for them in general, especially with love matters. These can be people that have partners that come off positive or jolly.

Pluto in the 5th house gets down and dirty. Likely has a romantic/intimate life where change is inevitable whether internal or external. Deep romance is a priority and it may be approached with depth and taken serious. They could even choose to use sex for a life enhancement. They want to explore the depths of sex and romance that isn't common. They don't mind. Children can cause major changes for these individuals most likely. Likely to have kids with someone who changed their life in a big way.

Do we really need to do Moon? We know how the Moon operates already....

Moon in the 5th house: All you gotta do is make them feel safe, loved, and comfortable. They'll likely have kids with someone they love and/or who loves them. Likely to have a romantic connection that's big on the emotional bond. Kids can even come about through emotional sex. Of course that wont always be the case, but it can be "A" case.

Venus in the 5th house give me vibes of people who may be big on wanting to be married. Kids can come after marriage, definitely, but not only. Likely to have a stable, solid, loyal lover/lovers. Kids can come when there is some decent or more than decent stability in this person's life. Wining and dining is no stranger to this person. They probably get the red carpet rolled out for them by their partner. Likely to respect their partner and vice versa.

Jupiter in the 5th house makes a person a fun, open, optimistic person. They themselves can be opportunists in love or they attract these experiences. Likely to have a fun or informational lover. Likely to have kids with someone that has brought experience, wisdom and knowledge into their life. They may even in some cases have literal circumstances where the lover is philosophical if not an actual teacher. Their love life can be expansive. Likely to also have a partner that is simply smart or travels a lot. This can also be the nature of the relationship where them and their partner teaches each other.

Uranus in the 5th house can make a person have lovers or a lover who is sexy, famous, funny, but still have something unusual about them or in their life. A person with this placement has an unusual love life whether they switch partners often or they simply don't go about love like people would expect. They may like someone who is different and not of commonality. Likely to have unexpected pregnancies. Babies can come about when not planned or expected. Likely to want ultimate stimulation from their lovers. Fun, limitless desires for their romantic life. Likely to have kids with someone who does something extraordinary for their lifestyle.

Neptune in the 5th definitely give me phantom pregnancy vibes. This has likely occurred in some way with these people. Either that or they are pregnant when they don't know. Could find out late or even have a situation where they are giving birth after living life regularly. Could have a relationship based on spirituality, escapism, fun, or a true blissful romance that makes them feel safe and special. Lover can be sensitive, a substance user, smoker only, spiritual, intuitive, or private. Likely to have weird relationships or relationships where they barely see their partner that much for various reasons. Could even have gaps in their love life.

[nikethestatue]

Breed Me

Happy Valentine's Day!

A little one shot of pure smuttiness for all of you to enjoy today. Also, blame @tswaney17 for this! She sent me a video in IG of a pink cookie being decorated with the words 'Breed Me'. She said 'Elriel'. I said 'I have to write this'. So here you are.

This is an Elriel and Nessian smut

(Generally speaking a bonus set in the world of A Match Baked In Heave, but is a standalone)

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckety fuck fuck.

She knew it. She just knew it. She knew that she’d forget. And she did. She even forgot to set the reminder not to forget.

Valentine’s Day.

Their first Valentine’s Day together. 

The only excuse she managed to come up with was that they’ve been together for almost a year now. They began properly dating right around the last V Day, and therefore, it’s been some time and Nesta was allowed to forget. Or so she told herself. But she was the worst girlfriend ever. She didn’t even have a card for him!

The problem was that Nesta Archeron, barrister extraordinaire, successful, beautiful, admired, and well-put together always, did not possess a romantic bone in her body. Romance just wasn’t how she operated. Nesta liked to go to Michelin starred restaurants, she enjoyed good wines, she adored interesting trips, and she got emotional when walking down the streets of Florence overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and history of the place. But romantic, she was not. At least, not in the sense that people came to expect someone to express their romantic side–chocolates, flowers, jewellery, horrid chocolate lava cakes and even more terrifying public marriage proposals with the ring being dropped to the bottom of a champagne flute. If her boyfriend Cassian ever did that to her, she’d break up with him. Though that wasn’t exactly his style–he’d probably propose on a mountain peak, or looking out at some terrifying squall, or, if she were lucky, at night, on the streets of Florence, when no one was looking and it was the two of them.

But, enough about proposals and romantic gestures. 

She’d leave that to her sister Elain. Her other sister, Feyre, had an even less romantic attitude than Nesta, if that was even possible. Feyre was hopeless in the romance department. Good thing her husband Rhysand was romantic enough for the two of them, and then some. If Rhys could gift Feyre the Moon on a string, he would. 

That left Elain. The only one who was a romantic at heart, and per Feyre ‘romantic on steroids’ who adored V Day and began prepping for it in advance, the way others prepared for Christmas. 

Nesta never enquired about Elain’s Valentine’s Day plans, because she was frankly, a bit scared. Though the Archeron girls were all girls, and close in age, they weren’t the types to discuss their sex lives with each other. They weren’t the types to change clothes in front of one another, and Nesta couldn’t remember when she saw any of her sisters naked. That’s just how they were. And Nesta preferred to keep it that way.

But today, she was desperate. And she was close to Elain’s house. 

Unannounced pop-ins weren’t a thing that the sisters did either, but Nesta was always close to Elain and now, she hoped that Elain wouldn’t mind it. Besides, it was only 2 pm. What could Elain possibly be doing?

Just in case, though, Nesta sent a warning text “I am in the neighbourhood. And need to stop by. Are you decent?”

The last part would’ve seemed like an overkill, but it wasn’t. Because Elain, and her husband Azriel, were known to get it on frequently and at any time of day or night. Nesta had to get her eyes bleached by now, considering how many times she either overheard them or walked in on them. Azriel was a damn exhibitionist, who loved semi-public sex, and what’s more, the man’s had some peculiar interests, which made being in their company a veritable minefield of strange sexual encounters. Elain…well, she was in love. She was love-drunk, dick-drunk, and sex-drunk most of the time. 

Nesta hurried down the street, before rushing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. True to Elain’s character, the white columns beneath the awning were decorated with pink, white and red roses. Love was in the air.

Nesta banged on the door and heard ‘it’s open!’

She entered the foyer, toed off her boots and almost ran to the open concept first floor kitchen and sitting room. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” her sister asked, worry etched on her pretty face.

Elain was wearing a pink dress with red flowers and a wide pink headband, which struggled to contain waves of her thick curls. The dress accentuated her growing stomach, which was just beginning to round and pop at 4.5 months. Of course, Elain made the prettiest pregnant woman in the world. Shiny hair, sparkling eyes, clear skin, a wide smile, gorgeous boobs, no weight gain other than in her stomach, and the most perfect pregnancy–no violent sickness, explosive vomiting, sickening cravings or swollen ankles for the middle Archeron sister. 

“I am brilliant!” Nesta put on a fake smile. “Just need a few ideas,”

Elain eyed her with a disapproving look and then said, 

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Ummm, forgot what?” Neta decided to play stupid.

“Don’t play stupid,” her sister snapped. “You forgot about Valentine’s Day and now Cassian doesn’t have a gift, does he?”

Nesta plopped on the stool by the marble bar and announced with pretend excitement,

“No. But that’s where you come in!”

“Oh, is that so?” rolled her eyes and then picked up a pastry bag, and curled over the counter. “Am I expected to get your boyfriend a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“No, no, no,” Nesta assured her breezily. “Nothing like that. Just…ideas. Give me some ideas. I will execute!”

Elain thought for a second, absorbed in whatever she was doing with that pastry bag, and then explained,

“Men don't care about presents. Not for this type of holiday,”

“They don’t?”

“No! Cass doesn’t want a box of chocolates!” she laughed. “He’d just have to work it out longer at the gym.”

“So then…?” Nesta’s voice trailed as her brows knitted in confusion.

“You are hopeless!” Elain sighed. “Romance. Seduction. That’s what he wants. Seduce him…”

“O-kay…As in?”

“I have to teach you how to seduce a man?” Elain demanded.

“I don’t need to seduce him. He is already seduced!”

“Expand your repertoire,” Elain all but ignored Nesta’s reasoning. “Do something you don't normally do,”

“What, whips and chains?”

“Why must you go that far? Unless you want to be chained and whipped?” 

“No thanks.”

Nesta knew for a fact that that was more of an Elain and Azriel thing.

“Then what?” she asked again.

“What about sending him a sexy video?” Elain proposed. 

“I am not sending nudes,” Nesta stated firmly. “If that ever gets out,”

“You think he is going to share your nudes?”

“Phones get hacked. Next idea?”

Elain sighed and then leaned back against the fridge, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Have you tried introducing some whipped cream? Strawberries?”

“I don’t like mixing sex with food,” Nesta told her.

“Oh god. Well, what do you like?”

“My choices are nudes or rolling around in greasy sheets?” Nesta demanded crossly. 

“Play a game,”

“What kind of game?”

“Like a sex game. You tell him one of your desires, and he tells you one of his, and you both do it,” Elain proposed.

Nesta chewed on her lips, thinking about it. It wasn’t a terrible idea.

“What else?”

“Try having sex in an unusual place,” Elain suggested. “Not in bed or a shower. But somewhere you don’t usually do it in,”

“Hmmm. Okay.”

This was giving Nesta ideas.

“We have a book,” Elain began but Nesta shook her head, 

“No. Please no. I don’t want real-life examples from your sex escapades!!!”

“All I wanted to say,” Elain pouted, “was that if you have a sexy book or a magazine, you can open it to a random page and act out whatever is there…”

“Oh. Hmmm. That’s not bad. You’ve done that?”

“You just said no real-life examples!” Elain reminded her dryly.

“Yeah, true.”

Giving her a meaningful look of pure judgement, Elain added, “wouldn’t hurt if you dressed in something other than your smart clothes and your suits.”

“Lingerie?”

“It’s been known to help.”

In the next moment, Nesta exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is that!?!? Elain?!”

Elain glanced at the MASSIVE bouquet of pale pastel flowers that Azriel had given her earlier today. It wasn’t unusual that Azriel would give her flowers, so she didn’t quite understand Nesta’s reaction. 

But Nesta was staring, wild-eyed, at what Elain was doing, and she saw a whole array of sugar biscuits, which were already shiny with icing, and upon which Elain was writing.

Writing such as:

Lick Me

I Lick You

Butt Play

Toys

Anal

Reverse Cowgirl

Pearl Necklace

Blindfold

Breed Me

Outside

Car BJ

69

And many others, which Nesta couldn’t even make out.

“What the hell is this?!” she cried out.

Elain began to scramble pathetically, trying to turn the biscuits over, but it was too late. Nesta’s seen enough. 

“Elain! What the heck are you two up to?”

“Okay, whatever,” Elain was redder than the icing on the bakes. “It’s a game, okay? We are going to play a game too!”

“What kind of game is this?!”

“I think it’s obvious,” Elain hissed. 

“Not really…”

“My god,” she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. “It’s a very simple game, Nesta. There is a platter of biscuits–you select one or two, and read what it says. Then you do it.”

Nesta’s eyes bugged out,

“So you are going to do anal?!?! Or a car BJ!?”

“I don’t know!!!!!!!!!!!” Elain screeched, all flustered and red. “Maybe! Maybe we’ll do anal,”

“You are pregnant,”

“You can have anal when you are pregnant. Also, I am not discussing this with you anymore. I’ve given you ideas. That’s it!” she stomped her foot. 

Before the conversation could escalate even further and end up in a potential screaming match, the front door opened and Azriel’s deep, highly masculine and unabashedly sexual voice announced,

“Two jacket potatoes, coming up. Baby, I hope you are naked, because I am fucking gearing up to eat your pussy like a bulldog eats cereal.

“Also, they made me run three sprints today–though I told him that I am an old man with a wonky knee–but per your request, I am still sweaty. So have your way with me, lick it up.”

Nesta made a gagging noise deep inside her chest.

“We are not alone!” Elain screamed frantically.

“Who are we with? The dogs don’t count.”

Elain and Azriel had four dogs. The oldest, who was Elain’s originally, and then he had three sons–Benny, Churchy and John Boy–whom Elain and Azriel also kept. So, the dad and the three sons ran around together, and caused mischief and were four of the cutest dog potatoes ever.

When Azriel stepped inside, holding–by the looks of it–Churchy and Benny in each arm, both of them were dressed in red sweaters, it dawned on Nesta what he meant by ‘jacket potatoes’. Because it was kind of unbelievable that Elain and Azriel would dine on jacket potatoes for Valentine’s Day. Nevermind that Azriel was planning on dining on something else entirely.

“Oh, Nesta,” he muttered, without an ounce of excitement.

“Don’t worry, I am just leaving,” she got up from her seat, scowling. “I don’t need to be hearing about all your perversions,”

“Perversions?” Azriel smirked. “Judgey much?”

Elain was still squirming from embarrassment, but Azriel didn’t seem to care that his sister-in-law became privy to some seriously serious sex talk.

“The boys are knackered,” he announced, dumping the two pugs into their beds. They didn’t even wake up. Both were outfitted with heart-shaped headbands, and red jumpers with white hearts. 

“Nesta, something you need?” he asked, “or,”

“Definitely not! The last thing I need to see is my sister licking your sweat or whatever the fuck you implied she was going to do to you.”

He laughed, while Elain buried her face in her hands.

Azriel was abnormally handsome–in a way that was almost unnatural, and his handsomeness allowed him to get away with a lot of nonsense. 

“Let me guess, you forgot it was V Day and didn’t get my brother anything,” he suggested, stepping behind Elain and wrapping his arms around her.

“Ha! Not even close!” Nesta lied. 

“All right then.” Azriel clearly didn’t believe her. “Then off you go, ice princess. I need to fuck my wife.”

“Az!” Elain moaned helplessly, while Azriel turned her around and cupped her face in his hands.

“What?” he smiled, while his tongue traced a line against her lips. “Let’s make Nessie so uncomfortable, she’ll run out screaming!”

“Already there,” Nesta hissed. 

With Elain’s back to her and Azriel occupied with the kiss, Nesta quickly swiped a bunch of biscuits from the counter and dropped them in her bag. She can play the game too!

“Bye, you degenerates!” she cried out, and ran out, hearing Elain’s soft ‘byeeee’ on the way out. 

-

Nesta and Cassian

“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome,” Nesta cooed. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Any game you want, sweetheart,” Cassian offered, his voice thick and husky, “I’ll even lose, if you’d like me to,” he promised. His normally bright hazel eyes were dark and satiny, glistening with want and lascivious desire, as they skimmed over Nesta’s stunning lushness, presented to him in all its glory.

She greeted him in their kitchen, when he stomped inside like a big bear, dripping with February rain. He sure didn’t expect to find her there–wrapped up like the perfect candy box of Valentine’s chocolates for him to unwrap. Truthfully, he thought that she’d forgotten about it today–this holiday wasn’t her jam. But, oh how wrong he was. 

Nesta was splayed on the white quartz countertop, dressed in nothing but blood-red silky lingerie, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The panties were little more than a piece of tissue paper, covering literally nothing, and the bra, which was tasked with containing Nesta’s lavish cleavage, was hardly anything more. 

The bra was held together by an innocent looking rose, which nestled at the juncture of her soft, plush tits. While the same rose was attached to the top of the panties, just below her belly button. 

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Nesta assured him breezily, slowly, but intentionally crossing one long leg over the other. To complete the festive look, she wore gravity-defying red Louboutin heels. “I think we can both be winners in this game.”

She slowly walked her manicured fingers down the countertop, to an assortment of heart-shaped biscuits which were laid out in a…heart shape. 

Cassian was a bit shocked. Not just from watching the gorgeous body and the spectacular set that she was wearing, but also from all this wild Valentine-ism that she went out of her way to do. He wasn’t expecting it. This was more of an Elain thing to do.

But he’d lost his ability to speak anyway, so it was a moot point. He was trying to wrap his mind around everything that he was seeing. There were only harsh, primal sounds coming from his gut. Very caveman-like. 

“Pick a biscuit,” Nesta offered, tapping her finger next to each one.

Cassian shucked off his sodden jacket and his brogues, tossing his suit coat on the floor, uncaring. Slowly, like a lion stalking a lioness in the wild, he approached Nesta, trying to appear unaffected.

“What do we have here?” he finally managed to ask, licking his lower lip slowly. Nesta tracked the movement and shifted her body, so that her breasts almost spilled out of the flimsy bra cups, her nipples straining against the transparent lace. 

“A gift for you,” she offered, batting her lashes at him.

“And what will it say?” he pondered, slowly untying the topknot of his long, black hair. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted innocently. “But whatever you pick, you get to do to me…How does that sound?”

“Sounds like I am up to the challenge,” he promised, watching her bite her lower lip. 

His cock stirred within his trousers, while he watched her full lips glisten with a smear of bright red gloss. What a trail it would leave on his cock. The thought alone made him harder. 

Absently, he picked up one of the biscuits and then turned it, to see the message.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, cocking his brow.

Nesta craned her neck to sneak a peek, but he tsked and shook his head. 

“No, no, Miss Archeron, a deal is a deal. Whatever it says, I will do.”

“But what does it say?”

“Something very interesting, and something I am very in the mood to do,” he told her and then slipped the biscuit in his back pocket.

She pouted, but it didn’t last long, because Cassian leaned over her and kissed her. Grasping her slim wrist in his huge hand, he brought it firmly to the swell of his cock. 

“Must have been an interesting message,” she murmured into his mouth, but he wrapped his lips over her soft, pouty mouth and pried the sticky red lips apart with his tongue. Her thin fingers groped his dick firmly, just like he liked it, and a satisfied moan slipped from his lips, landing on Nesta’s tongue. She still sprawled on the counter, but despite the awkward position, Cassian put his big, warm hands on her thighs, travelling slowly over her soft skin toward the gossamer coverage of her panties, until his thumbs traced the warm wet slit beneath the material. 

Nesta moaned into his cheek, biting the skin on his jaw, as she squeezed his shaft harder, working it over with her expert hand. She smelled incredible, her expensive Chanel perfume tickling his nose, as he inhaled deeply, while thrusting his palms under her ass cheeks and palming her hard. He caressed her tongue with his, opening her further up to his kiss, kneading the soft bare skin of her behind. She breathed hotly into his mouth, letting go of his cock and winding her arms around his neck. The loss of her hand on his erection was tragic, but that also allowed Cassian to pull her to him, making her grand tits press into his chest and the warmth of her pussy into his dick. She rubbed against him impatiently, murmuring ‘sorry for ruining your trousers’ to which he replied, ‘feel free to ruin all of me, sweetheart’. 

She nodded, her long leg wrapping around his calves and pulling him even closer. The lips of her pussy stretched around the base of his erection, and she ground on him firmly and confidently.

“What’s my present for V day?” she teased, stroking his long hair and the back of his neck.

“Also a fun game,” he said, dragging his tongue over her mouth, kissing her lazily and with obscene sort of tenderness, indulging in her scent and her taste.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A version of whack-a-mole.”

“Are you the mole?” she queried.

“I am the whacker and the mole,” Cassian told her confidently.

-

Azriel and Elain

“Where was I?” Azriel murmured, watching Elain’s arched body in front of him. “Oh yes,” he remembered, “spreading your legs…”

He was behind her, his scarred palm rough on her hip, as he parted her thighs further. She was panting loudly, and he smiled, caressing her hair lovingly, “my little pillow-biter”.

“Mmm,” was all Elain managed, while the head of his hot, heavy, hefty cock prodded at her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. Instead, his hand slipped under her and stroked her round belly, while he whispered, “he good?”

She nodded yes. “He is good.”

“Ask for my cock, wife,” he then ordered. 

She wiggled her round ass against his groin, the underside of his hard cock landing between her butt cheeks, but didn’t do as he asked. 

He tsked and then slapped the heavy pole over her folds, making her gasp and clutch the sheets harder in her hands.

“Be a good girl, and ask,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head, stifling another moan when he smacked his cock over her pussy. 

“Oh god,” was all she managed, because while it hurt, it also felt so good.

“I am waiting,” he sang, gripping her breasts in his hands and painfully twisting her nipples. 

“Mmm–nooo,” she argued like a brat, shaking her head stubbornly.

Azriel sighed and contemplated for a moment, as he casually fondled her tits, half-seated on her hips. 

“Last chance, beautiful. Ask for my dick,” he told her.

She shook her head and remained silent. 

The thrill of punishment made her even hornier, as she didn’t know what he was going to do.

Flipping her over on her back, he kneeled on one knee over her and cupped his balls in his hand, lazily stroking his shaft. When she made to touch it, he said, “nope. You didn't ask for my cock like a good wife should. Now you are not getting it until I am ready to give it to you,”

He traced his lips with his thumb, while still rubbing his shaft, smearing precum over it, before sliding down and straddling her chest. Gathering her heavy breasts in his hands, he then spit on his dick and firmly pushed her breasts together. “Get ready, sweetness,” he warned, before thrusting his thick cock inside her cleavage. “Now, you are going to take my cock like my good girl, swallow nice and deep, while I fuck your pretty titites,” he instructed, pumping slowly between her breasts. “Tongue out,” he ordered, and Elain stuck her tongue out for him. The smooth head of his cock immediately landed on it, and she burrowed the tip into the sexy little slit, licking on it, tasting him. “That’s a good girl,” he approved, smiling down at her, as he quickly fluffed a pillow behind her head, so that the angle was just right. He squeezed her breasts even harder, and she gasped, especially when he tweaked her nipples, but he didn’t stop thrusting steadily, his movements precise and firm, so that the head of his cock remained inside her mouth for her to lick and suck on. 

“Eye contact at all times, my love,” he reminded her, smiling at her, before pushing deeper in her mouth. Elain watched him obediently, her mouth full of him, her lips stretched around the thickness of the shaft, as she panted loudly around him. He jiggled her tits playfully, keeping them wrapped around his base and his balls. “Now you’ll have my cock in your mouth for as long as I want, naughty girl,” he pinched her nipples, “start sucking, baby.”

Elain submitted, immobilised beneath his weight, sucking scrupulously and hard, as she watched him like he wanted. 

She wanted to be here too, in this place, in his position. She enjoyed being dominated, and Azriel dominated her well. She didn’t crave pain, though when he spanked her, or choked her, or slapped her with his dick, she loved it, but she needed to submit to his desires. She loved taking his cock any way he told her to, loved to serve him in bed, loved to give up control. 

So she sucked sloppily, while he pumped her tits and worked his heavy balls up and down her chest. 

“Is that good, pretty girl?” he asked. 

She nodded, gasping for breath when he pushed his cock deeper. He didn’t stop, and pressed further, whispering “choke on it, beautiful. Come on!”

She sputtered and choked, her eyes pleading with him silently, as tears ran down her cheeks, but he shook his head. 

“No. Swallow. And choke,” he ordered. “Open up. Wider,” and as she did, he plunged further, into her already trained throat. 

After they got married, for three months all she did was suck his cock multiple times a day, learning how to train her gag reflex, learning how to truly suck dick, falling in love with it. 

He released her tits from his grip, and she noticed the blossoming of bruises on her skin, while he propped himself on his arms, before starting  to fuck her mouth greedily and obscenely.

Elain relaxed under the onslaught of his expertly delivered thrusting in her mouth and while he still choked her, she was also enjoying herself. She loved her husband more than it was rational or describable. Azriel fulfilled every dream, every hope, every desire, every need that she had.

Elian hummed against the hard, hot pole in her mouth, which made Azriel feel drunk, particularly when the sound reverberated in her throat, tickling the head of his shaft. He lovingly brushed his thumb over her cheek, watching her bob up and down and meeting every push of his shaft. The noises that she was making–sloppy, wet, explicit–were an erotic symphony in his ear. If he could listen to her gag on his dick for the rest of his life, he probably would.

“You are so good to me,” he whispered. “My Ellie. But, I promised you a gift.”

He eased his pounding of her mouth and resumed his spot on her chest, sliding his shaft back between her breasts. Her breathing eased and she put her hands on his firm, muscle-corded thighs, stroking him slowly, running her fingertips through the nest of pubes around his cock.

His balls tightened and this member twitched next to her sternum, while she squeezed his rock-hard ass cheeks in her hands, digging her nails into his skin. Just like her, he liked a bit of pain as well. 

He pulled out of her mouth just in time for the warm jets of cum to land on her lips, her neck and her chest.

“Mmmm, more,” she finally moaned, licking the familiar salty outpouring from her lips, while he kept coming, until it was dripping down her chest. He scooped some with his fingers and let her lick them off the sperm.

“Beautiful girl,” he purred lovingly. “With a beautiful pearl necklace.”

She laughed and touched her neck. There, beneath the globs of cum, was her new pearl necklace, her Valentine’s gift and the present for her pregnancy.

Azriel collapsed on the bed next to her and then handed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he took the biscuit from the nightstand. On it, in pretty script it was written ‘Pearl Necklace’.

Elain got up, amidst his protests and skipped to the bathroom, where she washed off her V Day gift and brushed her teeth.

Then, she quickly returned to bed and collapsed into the embrace of her husband.

“I love you, you know,” he said seriously, spooning her from behind.

“I do know that,” she smiled and kissed his hand. “And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her shoulder gently and then arranged her against himself, before spreading her pussy with his fingers and nudging his already-hard dick inside. He thrust in slowly, filling her gradually and completely. She sighed contentedly.

“Are you hungry?” he worried.

She shook her head and made herself comfortable on his bicep.

“But I am happy.”

“I am happy if you are happy,” he said to her, and kissed her cheek.

Elain yawned. 

Incredibly, of all the biscuits that she would have selected, she randomly chose ‘cock warming’--her very favourite thing to fall asleep with. It’s almost like she…cheated.

-

Nesta and Cassian

Nesta rolled her hips, seated on Cassian’s knees. Her own knees were tucked against his thighs, pressing tightly into him, holding him immobile.

“You look delicious, Nes,” he ground, his voice choked, as he ran his thick fingers through her long silky hair, though now it was tangled against her back.

Her pussy was dripping his shaft, each fold splayed prettily to accommodate his considerable girth and he couldn't get enough of the sight. Especially with the red of her panties pulled aside haphazardly, reminding Cassian of how impatient she was with him. 

A lock of hair bounced over her round breasts, still covered by the bra cup, but it didn’t stop him from putting his mouth over her puckering nipple and biting.

“Fuck me, Cassian,” she grunted through gritted teeth, holding onto the back of his neck. She ground down on him, taking him inside her gorgeous body wholly, tempting tits swaying freely next to his face. He bit her nipple again, sucking on it through the material, and her head fell forward, pressing into his forehead.

The wet, hot friction between them was almost unbearable, but Cassian held her firmly by the hips, fucking up into her and making her take all of him again and again. It was pure, glorious heaven.

“Gimmie a kiss, sweetheart,” he told her, as he fucked her with rough, deep strokes. This was his favourite Nesta–weakened and compliant, her lips pink and glossy, when he took her mouth in a messy, wet kiss. She keened into him, allowing him full control of her body, sucking on his tongue like he wanted her to–soft and sighing with pleasure. He rocked her steadily, his thrusts deep and punishing, as he caressed her arched back and the peachy cut of her ass. She took him breathlessly, her mouth forming an almost shocked ‘O’ every time he hit that perfect spot inside of her, angling her body just so and making her cry out loudly again and again.

“Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.”

Her head lolled to the side and she closed her eyes, her grip on his neck and shoulders easing, and he held her closer, allowing her to relax and know that he had her. 

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured into her hair, pressing his thumbs into the divots above her ass. “Letting me fuck and breed this perfect pussy.”

At that, Nesta exploded. The squelching sounds of her dick pushing inside her became a staccato of explicit, sultry melody. 

“GOD. Cassian. I love you,” she squealed, as he huffed and grunted with adoration at her words.

The walls of her pussy squeezed him tightly, holding him in an almost painful vise-like grip, as she climaxed all over him, melting into a loud, needy scream. She fell into his chest, pumped continuously and nestled her face into the crook of his neck, sucking on it with desperation. 

Only then did Cassian let go of his iron self control and came inside of her, letting her milk every drop of his seed.

“Beautiful, Nes,” he babbled in her ear. “Take it all. Finally.”

This was perfection.

The way she gripped him and how her pussy pulsed all around his dick was incredible.

Nesta was severely allergic to any hormonal contraceptives, and non-hormonal IUD didn’t work for her, causing constant bleeding and extreme discomfort. So they practised the ‘natural method’ and he never came inside of her. Until tonight. Finally. It was amaz-

“Cassian!!!” she cried out. “What the hell?!? What did you do?!”

She pushed against his chest and stared at him with a horrified expression.

“What did I do?” he exclaimed, alarmed.

He was in fact, still orgasming inside of her.

“What?!” he repeated.

“You came!” she accused him pointlessly.

“Well, yes,” his brow furrowed.

“Inside!” she stated the obvious, like he wasn’t aware.

“Well, yeah. You wanted me to!” he reminded her, as he kissed her lips.

“What? When did I want you to?”

“Nesta,” he sighed. “I know you are blissed out, baby, but you asked me to,”

“Asked you what?!”

“To come inside of you. Calm down, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. 

“Stop freaking out. It’s going to be okay.”

“When did I ask you?!” she repeated again.

“The cookie.”

“What cookie?!?!” she screamed.

“The biscuit. That you told me to choose.”

“What about it??!!!” she wiped her face.

“It said Breed Me.”

She stared at him helplessly, mouth open.

Cassian kissed her again and pumped into her deeper, making everything seem inevitable.

“So I bred you,” he shrugged, looking proud of himself. 

-

Fucking Elain and her fucking biscuits.

[nottoofondofgaypeople]

Another rewrite idea

In episode 25 of MCD before Aph sets off to find Levin's mom, Garroth gives her a chest of supplies that includes some healing potions, a cool sword, a flower crown, and a... wedding ring?? This is literally never explained by the story, but you already know how I operate.

Imagining Garroth not knowing a god damn thing about romance because the only one he was almost in was set up for him, so he doesn't actually know how to handle these very sudden feelings for this feral woman that just showed up and became his lord. His brain tells him "Don't you give her a ring in a special box?" as like the only aspect of marriage he actually processed, without realizing that you usually give it to her directly after a heartfelt expression of your love. But Garroth is physically allergic to expressing his feelings or being vulnerable if he isn't literally dying, so he thinks that just putting it in a small box of supplies for her will work. And it obviously doesn't, but she's just as dense and clueless about relationships so she doesn't even realize that's what he's trying to do, she just thinks it's misplaced and leaves it there.

Garroth takes this as a complete rejection of feelings he didn't even express, and she doesn't think twice about it. They're both so terrible at this I love them.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #11: Maternal Instinct

Prompt: surrogate || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: This one is likely to get a rework or big expansion come my October edits, as I've got Covid and am not operating at full capacity. But I wrote something, and that's what matters!

---

Synnove will never tell a soul, but there have been multiple times in her life where she nearly slipped and called her Aunt Angharad, “Mama.”

It’s not that Auntie didn’t deserve the title; far from it. In every way except blood, Angharad Greywolfe has been her mother.

Ensured she had food in her belly, even during their poorest days in Ul’dah? Auntie.

Comforted her after her nightmares of the Fall of Ala Mhigo, and her grandfather and uncle dying, even as she was still processing her own grief? Auntie.

Snuck her sweets and slices of cake, or made sure dinner included some of her favorite foods, once gil was more plentiful? Auntie.

Sewed Synnove trousers and shirts in which she could run around Ul’dah with Rere and Heron? Auntie.

Fought to get Synnove her own mathematics tutor once Rere’s had mentioned her aptitude for numbers, despite Isolde’s recalcitrance? Auntie.

Encouraged her to apply to the Arcanists’ Guild, celebrated with her upon her acceptance, helped her pack, and saw her off at Vesper Bay?

Hugged her after her screaming row with Isolde and made sure Isolde wouldn’t touch what remained of her things in a fit of pique once Synnove fled for Rere’s for the rest of her autumn break? Auntie.

Always, always, always it was Auntie.

Even in her fuzzy memories of Ala Mhigo, when a nanny had been her primary caretaker, it was always Grandfather, and Uncle Tyr, and Auntie who were the ones showering her with affection.

Aunt Angharad was the model by which Synnove operated when treating her youngest students or the carbuncles, but most especially little Amandina and Roksana. Everything Synnove knew about cooking and baking had been learned at her Auntie’s knee, serving as her obedient kitchen helper before they got into laughing flour fights. And what she had decided she wanted from romance—when the idle thought broke through the never-ending arcanima equations—could all be sourced back to what Auntie had told her of her marriage to Uncle Tyr.

And yet, Synnove hesitated. She was fairly certain Auntie wouldn’t mind, but the small, wary voice at the back of her mind that belonged to the little girl bowed beneath the yoke of her birth mother’s ambitions, always cautioned no. That little voice hissed of the unfairness of being saddled with another small child to raise in the depths of her mourning. Doubted the sincerity of yet one more adult.

Synnove was likely making this far more complicated than it should be. She did, after all, have a terrible habit of doing so. But she still hesitated.

Even though in her heart of hearts that while Isolde Greywolfe was her mother, Angharad Greywolfe was mama.