#Men’s active Track Pants

[mens-sports-wear]

Men's Fashion: Denmonk's Trendy Sportswear Collection.

Recently, there has been a revolution in men's fashion as more and more guys are embracing their sense of style and experimenting with various appearances. Men who want to keep fashionable and lead busy lifestyles now turn to Denmonk as their go-to brand.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think a lot of what's currently informing my fellow white people curdling like milk and shitting their pants when asked to interrogate their relationship with rap is the way many people (especially well-meaning white people) still can't help but think of racism as something that you get accused of rather than something that influences the entire world in pernicious ways.

like, I think a lot of people currently posting the most cringe takes about rap right now would very much agree that Racism Is Bad and probably even acknowledge that rap has been and is still widely maligned and devalues for racist reasons.

but that last step, acknowledging that your personal tastes and interests are also influenced by systemic racism, is where a LOT of people stumble. it's very easy to assume that because you consider yourself against racism, then your tastes and interests cannot possibly be at all informed by racist. if you're a white American, that's simply extremely unlikely to be true.

speaking from personal experience, I had to Work to decenter whiteness in my media tastes. when I was like 19 I listened to a podcast where a white Jewish man talked about keeping a spreadsheet of the books he read to make sure he was reading a roughly equal number of men and women, and I started doing the same thing to track how many authors of color I was reading. at the time I took pride in my belief that I was reading diversely, but when the year ended I was shocked to discover that people of color had written barely a quarter of the books I'd read. I had been giving myself way too much credit while still unintentionally prioritizing white authors, because white authors were the ones I knew best. so I started making an extremely conscious effort to seek out books by authors of color, both fiction and nonfiction, that sounded like my kind of shit.

music was extremely similar. I grew up a little white girl in a very white city in a very white state; nobody was offering me an education in rap or r&b or soul or hip hop. as an young adult there were definitely some Black artists I liked, like Janelle Monáe, but I had to take the initiative of seeking out more artists to find out who I fuck with. you're not going to like everybody, which is fine, but are you even giving anyone a chance? are you even looking?

racism has roots everywhere, bro. it's not enough to just acknowledge it, you have to actively get digging.

[ja3yun]

please a heeseung version for the 'how he is as a bf' i will literally sob my pants

you know i wil take any excuse to talk about my delusions involving my man so lets gaur! again, this will include some smut so mdni!!

jake vers. | sunghoon vers. | jay vers.

in the beginning, during the talking/dating stage, heeseung won't be clingy or overbearing. he will keep his distance and text you moreso than take you on dates. communication is important to him so i feel like this is a way to see if you can hold conversation. when you do go out on dates, he will be incredibly sweet and wholesome, i think he enjoys activity dates more than dinner/drinks so expect to have lots and lots of fun. these dates are important to him because where texting and phonecalls tell him about your communication, dates wpuld determine your vibe and connection

he has a very strong head on him and is very logical so i think he would set out with the intention to keep his feelings close to his chest but the purity of his heart and his desire to love would overrule that aspect of him. heeseung is a lover and piner so it wouldn't take long for him to fall in love with you but he won't admit it as soon as he feels it, he will wait for the right moment to make it special for you both. that being said, if he was really vibing with you and could see that you love him just the same, it could just blurt out in the middle of your date or at home (which he would curse himself for later on)

POSSESSIVE and knows it. when you're in a relationship, he is going to be protective of you, particularly when you are out together. he will make you walk on the inside of the pavement, hold onto your hand tightly when others are around, grab your waist to let you know that he is there and won't let go until he absolutely has to. heeseung would be so down bad for you in private but when there are other men around, it's even worse.

he would like his space though, he doesn't need you around him all the time so you would have a very relaxed relationship, lots of texts and calls but he doesn't need quality time all the time, he values being on his own or with his friends, quality time with them is just as important as quality time with you.

that being said, he will take you out with his friends to help you bond. he would prefer it if you got along with his mates, or at least tried to. when he goes out with them to the gaming cafe, he will invite you out but ofc, half way during the session he will have you sit on his lap, espacially if he is getting cocky with winning.

more under cut

the dates he takes you on are never spontaneous and always planned to ensure you have the BEST time. he takes your personality and likes into consideration each and every time, it's important to him that you feel valued and loved in the relationship and he knows sometimes with schedules or his need to relax on his own that it could come across as neglect, this man will do everything in his power to make sure you never think that way.

unlike the others, he would show you off. perhaps not in public until you are both settled but definitely everyone in the company knows about you. the reason i think this is because he wants you to be supportive of him, go to concerts, schedules, be his number one fan! there is nothing he loves more than a supportive partner, he needs a relationship that both of you are career driven so you can both be there for one another.

i think he loooves cuddles and staying in with you. not so much doing domestic stuff but just relaxing and in each others company is more than enough for him. he likes to watch movies and play games with you laying inbetween his legs or vice versa, randomly kisses you during adverts or loading screens, his hands are always on you when you're with one another privately, so its probably the best time to indulge in the little clinginess he shows.

will sing to you if you ask!! not full scale microphone and performance but soft luls of his favourite tracks to you while you're walking outside or in the house cleaning up. he is definitely the type of boyfriend to dance with you in the middle of the night, the fridge or dim lights from the living room being the perfect accent to the moment. he would absolutely nuzzle your nose and tell you everything he loves about you in these moments, words he says triggering another song to pop into his mind and twirl you around.

couples jewellery are a must, rings and earrings specifically. we all know he likes a singular earring on his ear, and you would absolutely have the other. the jewellery is a way to keep you with him at all times, particularly when he is on tour. he will wear them and subtlety touch them when he's performing love songs, imagining singing them directly to you

kisses: soft, romantic, subtle, passionate. he loves the feeling of your lips and how soft they are with his. he is obsessed with long, lingering kisses so he will hold you back from meetings or work to softly cradle your cheek and give you long pecks. if he knew he had time he would easily slip his tongue in your mouth and try for a full scale makeout session. he loves to taste you and have you completely at his mercy, making you moan into his mouth and whimper when he pulls away. its all part of his possessive nature like he just loves to know you're his. he will also be a mess kissing, whispering sweet 'i love yous' and 'fuck' because he's vocal as fuck with everything he does.

bowchikawowow: he is a passionate man with lots of love and energy to offer. i see him as quite a horny person (tbh that might just be me being self indulgent) so, like jake, he is fucking you anywhere and everywhere he can. loves a quicky, will always be ready and prepared to pound you. sometimes he wants to go slow and sensual but you're just too delectable and he's too randy to wait. why fuck you slow when he can mske you cum multiple times by fucking you hard and fast. heeseung isn't primal with it, it's still filled with love and adoration, i'm thinking hardest he will do is soft-dom vibes but only if you bring it up first - he doesn't want to force you into anything you are uncomfy with. likes you on all fours and mirror sex the most. adores it when you call yourself his while his cock is inside you, could cum just at the words leaving your lips.

my man adores giving you aftercare, literally part of the process. if its a long, hot session, he's making sure you pee and shower, or at least will clean you up. he alresd has some form of vitimin water in the fridge waiting for you, vitimin because he sometimes wants a round two asap. when he takes you for a quicky in the office building or wherever, there isn't much he can do so instead of his pampering, he will kiss all over your face and murmer words of affection into your skin, never wanting to let you go.

again, these are my delusional opinions!! if you have other ideas let me know, i love to hear them <3 (and yes jay will be next)

[cherie-doll]

☾ Headcanon: COD Men As Werewolves

⨯ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

His breathing becomes ragged, hot breath fogging the clouded reflection in the mirror. His body trembles and his knuckles turn white as he grasps the mirror edges. His mind blurs as he tries to concentrate on his image in the mirror, with each pounding heartbeat, his pain grows unbearable.

He could feel the fur prick through his skin as it covered his body, a set of sharp teeth grew, and pointed claws broke through the pads of his fingers. His gaze became unclear, turning into something less than human before he lost all focus.

Ghost

He for some reason gets a lot of scars and scratches from accidentally clawing at himself

He hasn't been a werewolf for long so he's still getting used to it just like you are

You treat his injuries yourself because you can never decide whether you should take him to the doctor or the veterinarian

Soap

You find him acting odd, like truly doing the weirdest things. But when is he ever normal?

That new chewing toy you bought for your puppy? Suddenly you find Johnny with it in the living room gnawing on it, at least it's not your furniture

Will randomly lick/affectionately bite you

Dude imagine how cool he looks in his werewolf form with his mohawk

Gaz

Kyle absolutely despises being a werewolf in summer, you can always be sure to find him soaking in the bathtub all day

You both sleep with a fan in summer, just sleeping next to him makes you feel the heat radiating off of him, you can't even imagine how he must feel :(

But it's an advantage in fall and winter, practically turns into your personal heater in winter, just cuddling together the entire time, and since he bought the best conditioner for his fur it's so soft

Roach

Loves you stroking his ears and tail, gets highly sensitive with his tail

He frequently runs off for days and when he comes back he always brings something for you

You don't want to hurt his feelings so you have to pretend that the dead bird he brought you is the best gift you've ever received whilst he watches, tail wagging and seemingly content :(

Alejandro

Imagine how much hair would be on his chest ૮꒰´ ཀ ྀི꒱ა

Sheds everywhere

You have to help him shave it because the amount of thick hair he grows is insane and even gets in the way sometimes

He'll be getting it stuck in zippers, tangling it even more when he tries to cut it with scissors

Completely gives up wearing clothes and just stays inside the entire time because he overheats with clothes on

Phillip Graves

He gets territorial and stays lurking near the house, the mailman can't even come near to deliver the mail

Bares his teeth and being downright mean so you can't have anyone over but turns soft for you

And when he gets hungry you make him eat outside, you can’t stand watching him eat raw meat or making a mess inside

Keegan

Likes scaring the living daylights out of you

Sometimes it's easy to forget your boyfriend is a werewolf when he doesn't tell you exactly when he transforms

He laughs seeing your sleepy eyes widen in surprise when you wake up to a beast in your bed

He stalks around at night scaring kids too, loves scaring the little shits knowing no one is going to believe them if they ever told

König

He's strong but imagine how much stronger König becomes when he transforms

It sounds hot but also imagine how much of an inconvenience it is for him

He's constantly breaking doors when pushing/pulling on them, breaking chairs, can't get a single pair of pants or shirt on without it ripping

Horangi

Likes to tease you by biting or nipping at your skin, especially in sensitive areas like your neck, chest and thighs

His nighttime activity increases, when you wake up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed cold and empty, you open the Find My app to track him and find that he decided to take a walk around town and even went out to eat

Sometimes you accompany him but it's almost every night he does it and you can't keep up

Nikto

He's actually really gentle as a werewolf

Although you're used to his big body weighing down on you

Since his claws grow out he has you filing them down and clipping them, as a joke you sometimes paint them and he has to go around looking like a menace until someone sees his hot pink nails

Is very protective of you, like a lot more

Won't let you go anywhere by yourself, especially at night and is by your side 24/7

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire 4

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Al Haitham x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Awaken from your slumber due to the burning pit in your stomach, you decide to take a shower early morning, hoping it will cool you off. After your shower, you leave your bedroom to see a shirtless Al Haitham reading a book at your desk. You weren't sure why Al Haitham is in your bedroom, but he has his reasons for visiting you.

Note: I've been busy dealing with some things outside of my fanfics, and I haven't been able to type as much as I would like. Therefore, Al Haitham's smut is a bit shorter than the previous routes in the Burning Desire smut series. Again, the smut routes aren't supposed to be as long as the first "chapter" of the series and Crave. It's pure smut and has no plot, so some smut will be shorter depending on how it flows. As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, as per usual ✨ slight masturbation/groping (?), orgasm denial, mating press, fingering, handjob, cervix fucking, slight choking, doggy style, slight overstimulation, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 4.1k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

You tried to sleep, but the burning pit in your stomach was unbearable. You’re worn out from getting dicked down by Scaramouche and Tighnari, and you can use some sleep. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t look like that’s going to be happening any time soon. You would fall asleep for a few hours but wake up to the unbearable throbbing between your legs. You need someone to drill their cock into you, or else you will go crazy. 

The first thing you did when you wake up for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night is to masturbate. It provided a small amount of relief, but the same feeling will come back. The same burning desire will hit you like a sumpter beast, causing you to writhe around on your bed despite having your fingers buried deep in your entrance and cumming multiple times. Okay, well, ‘multiple times’ is a bit of an exaggeration— three times is the correct number.

Archons, you even went as far as taking a cold shower at four in the morning while everyone was still sleeping in their beds. You’re hoping the men who have a keen sense of hearing and smell don’t wake up to your activities. That would be even more embarrassing. The shower lasts almost two hours— your body’s really hot, and the cold water raining down on you feels so nice that it nearly makes you forget that you inhaled a large amount of aphrodisiac. 

You step out of your bathroom, hair still drenched from your shower. You stop in your tracks when you see the Scribe sitting at your desk, reading a book. You blink at Al Haitham and peek at the clock in your bedroom. It’s almost six in the morning, and yet the gray-haired man is in your bedroom, wearing nothing but gray silk pajama pants.

You rub your eyes and gingerly sit on your bed. “Al Haitham? What are you doing up around this time?” You ask, getting under your blanket.

You squeeze your eyes shut briefly when the ache between your legs spikes up when you press your thighs together. You’re hoping that Al Haitham either leaves your room soon or he buries his cock inside you until you wake up everyone in the abode. Your mind is constantly racing ever since you breathe in the aphrodisiac, and you can never get peace of mind. Al Haitham closes his book, turning to face you and spreading his legs wide open. You gulp and look away, running your hands through your damp hair to distract yourself from looking at the faint tent forming in his pajama pants. 

Al Haitham rests his arm on the armrest, staring at you intently in the darkness of your room. Light peeking through the blackout curtains of your room, illuminating your bedroom. You gulp and hug your knees to your chest, waiting for Al Haitham to say something. Al Haitham sighs and leans back in his seat; you can see his muscles ripple and flex whenever he moves. Archons, he is so handsome. 

“I wanted to check up on you. I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” says Al Haitham, crossing his arms over his chest.

Archons. The way his biceps flexes when he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and lie down, not taking your eyes off the gray-haired Scribe. Why is Al Haitham acting so casual with you when he knows you’re having inner turmoil. You want to skin yourself alive for feeling this way. The intense need for someone to be buried balls deep inside your entrance until you’re crying and begging for them to give you a break.

You nod, trying to act casual. “My bedroom was hot, and I was sweating in my sleep. I didn’t want to lay in a puddle of sweat, so I went to take a shower,” you lie.

Al Haitham hums, nodding slowly. You curl up into a ball, waiting for Al Haitham to leave your room. Judging by the way he’s sitting on the chair near your desk, you don’t think he will be leaving your bedroom any time soon. Al Haitham suddenly stands up, stretching his arms in the air and yawning. You blink and quickly look at the tent in his pants before looking away before Al Haitham can catch you in the act. You pretend to look at the clock, gesturing to it.

“I think you should go to bed. It’s still early in the morning,” you say, pulling your blanket up to your chin and closing your eyes. 

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “Oh? You want me to leave already? I thought you would want me to help you with your problem,” Al Haitham says nonchalantly, walking toward your bed.

You crack an eye open and nearly jump out of your skin when you see how close he is to you. Al Haitham kneels on your bed and towers over you, caging you against your bed with his arms on both sides of your head while you look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Al Haitham tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to respond. 

You clear your throat, snuggling deep into your blanket to distract yourself from Al Haitham’s stare and the dampness pooling in your underwear. Al Haitham is so freaking breathless— the veins on his arms are driving you crazy. He’s so handsome, and he knows it. Al Haitham clears his throat, grabbing you by the chin to have you look into his eyes. 

“Are you going to answer my question or not?” Al Haitham asks.

You nod sheepishly, making Al Haitham look at you skeptically. 

“Is that a yes to the question I just asked or the previous question?”

You stare at Al Haitham and rub the back of your neck. “I do want you to help me, but it’s embarrassing, and it’s too early in the morning to be having sex,” you mutter.

Al Haitham clicks his tongue and releases your chin, now sitting at the edge of your bed. You sit up and rest your chin on your knees, staring at the gray-haired man before you. Al Haitham leans back and runs his fingers through his bedhead. Archons, his bedhead is too cute. For someone who’s aching to get railed, you act like a prude— despite having two men fucking a couple of orgasms from you.

Al Haitham strokes his chin. “You don’t have to worry about waking the others if you can keep your volume to a minimum,” Al Haitham comments, grabbing at his aching cock through his silk pajamas.

You gulp and watch Al Haitham stroke and squeeze his cock. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize Al Haitham is staring at you, waiting for you to respond. How are you going to keep your volume at a minimal volume when you have something thick or long pistoning into your entrance?

“But there are people in the abode that have a keen sense of hearing, Al Haitham,” you whine.

Al Haitham squeezes the base of his cock through his pajama pants, grunting quietly when you whine his name. You cover your face, trying to get the image of Al Haitham hovering over you out of your head. Al Haitham releases his dick and crawls over you, pinning you down on your bed.

“So? What are they going to do about it, hmm? I am helping you, aren’t I?” Al Haitham mutters, brushing the tip of his nose against your cheek before peppering kisses on your cheek.

Al Haitham is not wrong about that. The aphrodisiac is still in your system, and it doesn’t seem like it’s not going away any time soon. Plus, the aphrodisiac is just the same as it was when the symptoms kicked in. You don’t think you can handle the thought of Al Haitham plowing into you while the others are asleep and when Gorou and Tighnari can wake up to the littlest sounds coming from you.

You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around Al Haitham’s shoulders as he kisses down your neck, lightly nibbling and biting your neck. You shiver and dig your nails into his back as Al Haitham latches his lips into your collarbone, lightly sucking on it. 

Al Haitham murmurs against your neck, “If you want me to stop, let me know, and I’ll stop.”

You run your fingers through Al Haitham’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him some room to suck on your neck.

You let out a shaky sigh when he sucks on your neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper, tugging on his hair.

Al Haitham smirks against your neck and stops sucking on your neck. Al Haitham grabs your blanket and rips it off your body, leaving you only in your oversized t-shirt. You hear a sharp intake of breath from Al Haitham when he sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath the large t-shirt.

“You naughty little thing,” Al Haitham whispers, shaking his head with a smirk.

You whine and hide your face with one hand while attempting to pull your shirt down to cover your exposed groin with the other. Al Haitham clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. Al Haitham grabs you by your wrist and pins them over your head with one hand while lifting your shirt until your chest is exposed. 

Al Haitham spreads your legs with his knees before kneeling between your legs. Al Haitham releases your shirt and lifts your leg. Al Haitham swipes his index and middle finger up your wet entrance, making you jolt with surprise. You tremble beneath Al Haitham as he continues to coat his fingers in your slick, muttering about how wet you are for him. 

“Al Haitham, please…” You trail off, gazing at him through your lashes.

Al Haitham plunges his middle and ring finger into your entrance. You tense up and let out a choked gasp. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but you couldn’t free yourself from Al Haitham’s iron grip. You wrap your legs around his waist as he pulls his fingers out from your entrance before slamming them back into your gummy walls, making you writhe and arch your back beneath him. 

Archons, you’re so wet that every time Al Haitham thrusts his fingers into your sopping-wet cavern, you and Al Haitham would hear squelching, and your juices would coat the inside of your thighs. Al Haitham groans, feeling how tight you are around his fingers. Your back arches every time Al Haitham’s long fingers jab a particular spot inside you, causing you to choke out a moan and clench around his fingers.

“Al Haitham…” You whimper, attempting to free yourself from his iron grip.

Al Haitham suddenly pulls his fingers out. You nearly whine at the feeling of emptiness. Al Haitham releases your wrists before grabbing your shirt collar with both hands, tearing your shirt in half. You watch Al Haitham toss your shirt to the side carelessly before taking his pajama pants, leaving him only in his black boxers. 

You can see his bulge clear as day— the tent in his boxers is bigger than it was before. Al Haitham cages you against your bed with his arms before pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your bare entrance against Al Haitham’s pulsating cock. The only thing that is getting in the way of you feeling Al Haitham’s cock is his boxers.

Al Haitham breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against your shoulders, breathing heavily. Al Haitham begins grinding his clothed cock against your entrance. You panted, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock rubbed up against your swollen bundle of nerves. You clench around nothing, biting on your lips to muffle your gasps. Al Haitham blindly reaches down to his boxers and begins taking his underwear off and tossing them to the ground beside your bed. You sigh in relief when you feel his hot cock press against your entrance. You peek down to see Al Haitham’s cock— the bulbous tip is red with need, pre-cum beading at the tip. 

Al Haitham slowly ruts his cock against your entrance, coating the base of his cock in your essence. You reach down to grab his cock by the base, gently squeezing them. Al Haitham hisses and squeezes his eyes shut. You gently stroke his cock before rubbing the mushroom tip of his cock with your thumb, spreading his pre-cum around. 

“You’re incredibly sensitive, Al Haitham,” you murmur, giving his cock a light squeeze.

Al Haitham hisses again before burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting heavily against your neck as you continue to stroke his cock. You stoke his throbbing dick slowly, making sure to lightly squeeze the tip and rub the tip of your thumb over the mushroom tip. Al Haitham releases a guttural moan and bucks into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you tighten your grip around his red cock. 

You continue pumping Al Haitham’s throbbing member until Al Haitham lets out a choked moan. Al Haitham grabs your wrist and forcibly removes your hand from his dick. Al Haitham gulps, pinning your hand to your side as he tries to catch his breath. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “I almost made Al Haitham cum.” You can’t help but feel proud of yourself for being able to (almost) have Al Haitham cum with just your hands.

Al Haitham looks at you and slowly stands, brushing his messy hair from his face. Al Haitham grabs you by the waist and pulls you down. You squeal and gasp when Al Haitham slaps your already aching entrance. Al Haitham grabs your engorged bundle of nerves and pinches them hard. You grit your teeth and curl your toes, legs shaking as Al Haitham rubs the nub at a fierce pace. 

You grab Al Haitham’s wrists, attempting to get him to stop before he makes you cum. “Stop, stop, stop, stop! I’m going to cum if you don’t stop!” You whine as you flail your legs around.

The tight knot forms at the bottom of your abdomen, getting incredibly tighter while Al Haitham continues to pinch, twist, and rub your swollen, aching nub. You shudder and tense up, preparing yourself for your impending orgasm. When the tight knot in your lower abdomen is about to snap and unleash the floodgates, Al Haitham releases your throbbing nub.

You look at Al Haitham, eyes wide and chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Al Haitham! Why’d you stop!?” you whine softly, grabbing his wrist and shaking his arm.

Al Haitham spreads your legs and slaps your sopping-wet entrance, making you involuntarily clench around nothing. You rest your head on your pillow and close your eyes, trying to catch your breath while Al Haitham coats the underside of his cock with your slick. You gasp softly when you feel Al Haitham’s hot cock rubs against your puffy entrance.

You’re not sure if you’re feeling extra needy because of the aphrodisiac or if it’s because Al Haitham denied you of your orgasm. Maybe it’s both. Al Haitham lifts your legs by the thighs, having your calves rest on his shoulders as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance. Archons, this isn’t going to be the first time getting railed by your boyfriends, but for some reason, you can’t help but feel nervous about it. Sensing your anxiousness, Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves and gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You smile at Al Haitham and swallow your saliva. You grip Al Haitham’s thighs, gently digging your nails into his flesh. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and brace yourself. Al Haitham rubs the bulbous tip of his dick against your fluttery entrance before slowly entering your drenched hole. Your jaws drop, letting out a string of moans when Al Haitham’s mushroom tip breaches your entrance. You unintentionally clench your thighs around his waist, tensing below Al Haitham the more he sinks his cock into your gummy walls with a semi-loud moan.

You whimper when Al Haitham’s thick cock stretches you out. You squeeze your thighs around Al Haitham’s waist, causing him to stop halfway in your hot cavern. Al Haitham pants, balling his hands into fists beside your head. Al Haitham closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his throbbing dick.

Al Haitham leans over you, his chest pressing against your face while he buries his face into your pillow. “Try to relax for me, baby. Please,” Al Haitham rasps, reaching down to grab your hand.

You whimper, holding Al Haitham’s hands and interlocking your fingers with his. “I-I’m trying,” you whisper, eyebrows furrowing while trying to relax and adjust to Al Haitham’s size.

Al Haitham nudges his nose against yours, his lips ghosting over yours. Al Haitham presses his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers when he sinks further into your heat. You wrap your legs around Al Haitham’s slim waist, heels digging into his ass cheeks. Al Haitham grunts into your mouth, balls deep inside your entrance. 

Al Haitham stretching your hole is painful— you could’ve sworn that if Al Haitham was any thicker than he already is, he’d stretch you out so much that your entrance would rip to shreds. You can literally feel the skin stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arm around Al Haitham’s shoulders while squeezing Al Haitham’s hand with the other. 

Al Haitham gently thrusts forward to test the waters. You clench around Al Haitham’s cock, panting into his mouth. Al Haitham pulls away from the kiss and kisses your jawline while pressing his chest against yours, refusing to release your hand. Your thighs are shaking as you try your best to relax and not tense up each time Al Haitham thrusts lightly into you.

Al Haitham can feel you tremble while peppering kisses on your jaws and neck. He gently massages your inner thighs, closing his eyes while trying to adjust to the tightness of your entrance.

You unclench your legs around Al Haitham’s waist and signal him to start. Al Haitham pushes himself off you and kneels between your legs, lifting your legs up, and begins thrusting into your drenched entrance at a steady pace. You pant, eyes rolling to the back of your head every time Al Haitham thrusts in and out of your hole. The veiny base of Al Haitham’s cock rubs against the gummy walls of your warm, tight cavern, sending you to Celestia and back. 

“Fuck, Al Haitham,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut each time Al Haitham buries his cock into you. 

Al Haitham chokes out a moan, hugging your legs to his chest while thrusting. Al Haitham lifts your legs up until your ass is hanging above the bed. Al Haitham leans forward, folding you in half until your feet are above your head. You grunt when you feel the muscles of your thighs strain under the pressure. Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains.

Al Haitham plunges only the tip of his cock in and out of your entrance, making you wince and shudder at the strange feeling. If you could describe how it feels, it feels like Al Haitham is almost scooping your insides out. It’s hard for you to put your finger on it— it’s the best way you can describe it, and it feels strange. You don’t think anyone has ever fucked you with just the tip of their cock.

Al Haitham continues to plunge the tip of his dick into your entrance repeatedly. You tense up, whimper, and clamp your thighs together. Without warning, Al Haitham thrusts his cock all the way into your drooling hole. Al Haitham chokes a moan and collapses on top of you when your gummy walls clench around his member. 

Al Haitham props himself up on his forearms and begins pumping his cock in and out of your entrance. Your thigh muscles strain under Al Haitham’s weight, making you whimper and grunt at the feeling. Al Haitham hooks one leg over his shoulder while wrapping the other around his waist without stopping or slowing down. Al Haitham grabs your throat with one hand before aggressively pressing his lips against yours, quickening his pace.

You bite Al Haitham’s lips, making him growl and slam his dick into you so hard that you see stars dancing behind your vision. Al Haitham swallows your wails as you try to keep your voice down. Much to your dismay, a familiar feeling starts building up in your lower abdomen as Al Haitham continues to abuse your hole with his thick cock sooner than you thought.

You break the kiss, panting and squealing as Al Haitham drills his cock deep into you. “Al Haitham! I’m going to cum,” you whine, weakly punching his shoulders.

Al Haitham slides his hands down from your throat to your groin and slaps your puffy entrance, making sure to hit your bundle of nerves. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, tightening your leg around Al Haitham’s waist. Al Haitham starts rubbing your engorged nub aggressively, making sure to piston his cock into your g-spot. 

Al Haitham leans down and bites your neck hard, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when your gummy walls squeeze his cock so tightly that thick ropes of hot cum spurt into you. You whimper cum around his cock, back arching, chest pressing against Al Haitham’s heaving chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head as stars spin and dance behind your eyelids. You go limp and lay beneath Al Haitham in a daze, trying to catch your breath as your groin continues to pulse.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out from your now-sullied entrance before getting off your bed. You peek at Al Haitham to see him standing at the foot of your bed. Al Haitham slicks his hair back before grabbing your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of your bed. You’re too tired to fight back. Instead, you let Al Haitham do as he pleases. Al Haitham spreads your legs, watching his and your mixed cum spill from your pulsing hole. Al Haitham flips you over on your stomach and bends you over with your ass in the air.

“Another round?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Al Haitham grunts in response before slamming his cock back inside. You squeal and grip your bedsheets hard, burying your face into your mattress as Al Haitham pistons his cock into your entrance. Al Haitham spreads your cheeks, watching his and your cum coat his dick and spill onto your bedsheets. The only thing Al Haitham hears are the sounds of your moans and whimpers. Something in the corner of Al Haitham’s eyes distracts him for a moment. Al Haitham looks up to see your bedroom door cracked open and a shadow standing at the doorway. The shadowy figure watches Al Haitham pistons his cock in and out of your sulled, pulsating entrance. Al Haitham smirks at the person, grabs a handful of your hair, and pulls you back toward his chest. You groan and close your eyes, wrapping your arm around his neck while digging your nails into your thighs. Your gummy walls pulse around Al Haitham’s cock as you whimper and writhe in Al Haitham’s grasp. Al Haitham doesn’t take his eyes off the shadowy figure, making sure to give the unknown person a show.

Al Haitham hisses when you clench around his cock, taking his attention away from the unknown person at the door and down at you. You choke out a wail, cumming around Al Haitham’s cock for the second time before going limp while Al Haitham proceeds to pump and grind his cock into your entrance. 

‘I can do this all day,’ Al Haitham pants, filling your hole with cum.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out of your battered entrance, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Al Haitham glances at the door, only to see that the door is now shut. You curl up in a ball and groan when the mixture of your and Al Haitham’s cum spills out of you. 

You rub your eyes, muttering, “Now I know how creampuffs feel.”

Al Haitham snorts and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and pulling a blanket over your body. Al Haitham kisses the side of your head and squeezes you lightly. You moan quietly when you feel cum leaking from your hole as the burning pit in your stomach remains ravenous. 

Note: I won't be posting next week because I decided that it would be a perfect time to take a break from writing and posting for this upcoming week. Not only have I been busy, but I haven't had the motivation to write/continue fanfics because of how exhausted I have been lately. But fear not, I will post the week after my break! I'm thinking about continuing Tragic Outcomes, but we'll have to wait and see about that 🤔 Anyway! Ready to vote for the next route in Burning Desire? Remember to vote for who you want to be in the next fic and read the instructions carefully— which should be simple enough, I hope. Vote for the next route [HERE]! Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @ins4nebish, @skyyyyackerman, @w1s-t3r1a, @urlocalheizousimp, @crinklypink, @downbadforurmom, @jadedist, @kaoyamamegami, @vynniis, @4-34-am, @iamcherryblossomsbitch, @starrry-angel, @raidenshogunsboobasword, @worldhardtibbysoft, @sagekun, @imnothungry-45, @lucifarts-boxers, @ieathairs, @akemiixx01, @probablynoposts, @mortallyshamelessfella, @odevote118, @sunlightstarr, @hispasian-otaku, @toobytub, @toshikochan, @firesunflames, @nightlysunn, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @aethersclothes (Taglist for Burning Desire has been fixed and updated— sorry for the inconvenience ;v; )

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[sunnyhvnny]

Hiii!! Could I ask for Jace, Aemond and Aegon and reader is his wife and he has locked her up in their chambers taking her however many times so that he can make sure she will get pregnant soon.

You know, I don't see this combo of men enough.

Tw: dub-con, breeding

Jace apologizes profusely as he locks the chamber doors. It doesn’t mean he won’t go through with it. He thought of it, after all, and knows that as someone in line to inherit the iron throne, he must have children.

His wife knows this, of course. She married a prince, what did she expect? As much as he loves her she has to know that it is her main duty to carry and birth his children.

She eventually stops arguing for him to unlock the door and let her leave after he has spent the entire day and night inside of her. Filling her up with his seed. When he finally takes a break, panting and sweating from fucking her he kisses her gently on the forehead and says that ‘it’ll be over soon.’ And that ‘once you start to swell with my child you will have all the freedom you want.”

It had seemed like the most obvious thing for Aemond to do. He was wed to his wife over two years ago and she had yet to swell with his child.

He was unsure if his seed just hadn’t quickened in her or if, perhaps, she was avoiding caring his child at all and taking measures to avoid doing so. So, he had eventually come to the conclusion that the only way to have his wife swell with his child, with an heir, was to lock her away in their chambers and waste no more time. He would take her several times a day and each time he would make sure to spill inside of her.

When she would whimper from the soreness of their activities or cry from overstimulation, he made sure to pull away for a moment. Holding her and stroking her hair to give her some time before he continued.

He didn’t want her to think of this as a punishment. It wasn’t. It was just another way for them to try and conceive a child and she would see that when she would eventually feel the babe he put inside of her move around for the first time.

Aegon lies to his wife and tells her that it is for the good of the realm that he is doing this. As the eldest son of the King, it is his duty to provide an heir.

“The people need to know that their rulers are stable and the best way to do that is to show them that our line can continue,” he tells her as he turns the key and locks the doors. He’s sure it’s true and something his mother or grandsire might say but that isn’t why he decided to bar his wife in their chambers and confine her to their bed for him to take whenever he pleased. Doing this only made her more accessible to him and his needs.

He hates tracking her down throw the Red Keep for her to satisfy him and he had found that it was tedious to take the servants knowing that they’d cry to his mother. His wife, however, would only be performing her duty.

He doesn’t answer her when she asks when she can leave their chambers. He’s grown accustomed to waking in the morning with his cock hard and rolling over and pushing it into his wife’s cunt. When he’s had a frustrating day, he finds her in their chambers, laying in their bed in only a nightgown, and doesn’t think twice before he’s untying his breeches and climbing on top of her. She always takes him without complaint and with tired sighs or groans. When she does begin to swell with his child he still doesn’t unlock the chamber doors as he has grown accustomed to having her anytime he wants.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 54

Warnings: non/dubcon, child endangerment, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Days pass. Weeks, maybe. There is no dawn or dusk to track the time. You are trapped in this basement, just you and Luna against the monster who took you.

Your only defense is to placate. You keep Andy happy so you can take care of your daughter. You don’t argue with his demands, you don’t push him away as he touches you, you don’t even cry when he fucks you any more. You just close your eyes and let him do what he wants. When you think about it, it’s not too much different than before.

There is no light at the end of this tunnel. If you were to get out of here, your haven is just another prison. Lloyd is only a warden with a different set of rules. For you it doesn’t matter but for Luna, she deserves better than this basement.

Andy snores next to you. It’s time like these you have the urge to hurt him. Your head is filled with violent thoughts. Not just towards your current keeper but to all the men who’ve wronged you. It’s the only strength you can find beneath the crushing weight of futility. Being angry means you still have something left.

A subtle buzz thrums through the mattress. You lean back on your shoulder and peek back at him. His phone vibrates him awake from under his pillow. You remember him tucking it under before he dozed off, likely noticing your straying eyes.

If you could just get it, you could call someone, anyone. But just like everything else, it's unreachable. The door's always locked and the conversation is already decided. He makes the rules and you follow them. It's the only way to keep Luna safe. If it was just you...

You roll onto your back as he grumbles, sliding his hand under the pillow to fumble away the notification. You glimpse the small letters before they swipe away, 'motion detected'. The screen lights up as he rubs his eyes and sits up. He bends over his lap, shrugging as he tries to loosen up his shoulders. 'Doorbell activated', the message pops up as the phone continues to jitter.

"Mmm," he searches around the floor as you sit up, your heart in your throat. Someone's here... "Better see who that is."

He grabs his grey tee shirt and swipes it over his head. You try not to show your eagerness, staying in bed as you watch him on alert. He pulls on his pants and puts the phone in his back pocket before zipping them up. Luna fusses and begins to babble. You move towards the crib and he raises a palm to wave you back.

"I got her," he goes to her as you stand, tense as he reaches in to pick her up, "shh, sweetie, daddy's got you--"

"Andy, please, answer the door," you approach him and he turns his back to you, keeping your daughter out of your reach.

"They can wait," he says as he bounces her, only for her to erupt into sobs. "Sweetie, shhh, shhh," he hushes as he rocks her, "be good for daddy, okay?"

He continues his efforts as you watch helplessly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you try to get around him but he continues to block you out. You ball your hands, about to tear your hair out as she wails louder and louder.

"Please, let me take her--"

"Why won't she stop?" He growls, "little brat."

"Andy," you whimper as you grab for her and he elbows you away.

"I'll deal with her," he says, "can't have her making all this racket."

He stomps away from you. You're right behind him as he goes over the kitchenette and opens the lower cupboard with his free hand. He pulls out a chest under there, numbers on dials below the clasp. A lock box. He flips it open and cradles her over it.

"Andy, don't! You can't--"

"She's too loud," he bats you away, "the sooner I get up there, the sooner she can come out."

"Please don't lock my baby up," you beg shrilly, "please, let me take her. I'll get her quiet."

Your skin razes with fire and your lungs fill with acid. You try again to take her and he shoves you away so you stagger and hit the table. It jars your bad hip but you barely notice the pain as Luna's cries drive you to desperation.

"Andy!"

"Shut up!" He snarls as he forces her squirming form into the chest, "she's got about ten minutes of air..."

"Please--"

"I don't need either of you drawing attention. Got it," he braces the lid, "anything happens to me, you won't get her out in time."

Tears swell over and spill hotly as he shuts the lid and spins the dials with his thumbs. You race forward and fall to your knees, clutching at the box.

"Andy, please, I can make her quiet. We'll both be quiet!"

"Shhhhh," he pulls out his phone again, "I know you'll be quiet, honey. If you want to see our daughter again."

You nearly collapse as he spins away. You can only watch him go to the stairs and leave you to your panic. You put your ear to the top of the chest and try to hear her. It's too thick. She's going to suffocate in there. You try to pry the edge open with your nails then stagger to your feet, searching the drawers for anything to get the lid up.

Nothing, there's nothing. Your baby, your baby. You can only think of Luna and the terror of that box. You freeze only as a familiar timber rumbles from above. The walls are padded enough to dampen their words but you know that voice. Harlan...

You wait and listen. Is he looking for you? Down here, I'm down here! You want to run up and bang on the door. Even if they know you're there, they won't know the code and they won't have the time to get her out. So you have to be quiet. You have to wait.

There footsteps pass overhead like a clock counting down. You cling to the chest. Please go. Please, please, please....

You collapse over the chest and hug it. You shake as you listen to the voices above drone through the walls. Your heart beats faster and faster as the second pass. Then, it's silent.

You tremble as you stare up at the ceiling. The door opens and the footsteps come down the stairs. Andy appears, nonchalant and unbothered.

"See, that didn't take very long, did it?"

"Open it," you hiss, "please, my baby, open it!"

"Our baby," he nears and puts his hands on his hips, "don't be so dramatic."

"Please, please," you get up on your knees and grab the front of his shirt, "I'll do whatever you want, honey, please, just take her out."

He huffs and shakes his head. He rolls his eyes as he bends over the box and slowly rolls the dials.

"That jackass and his father," he scoffs as the clasp pops. He stands straight, unconcerned. "Sent them off. He... he never appreciated you. Not like I do."

You flip the lid up and scoop Luna out. She's babbling quieter than before, dazed as you touch her all over, checking her pulse and her temperature. You coo at her and rock her, quaking as your adrenaline recedes. A new wave washes for you, something hotter, something more vibrant. Anger. Hatred. Deep and pure.

You look up at Andy as you embrace your daughter. You will kill this man.

[muiitoloko]

I saw that you've written some stuff about Lionel and Turpin being fathers (which by the way I loved reading them and am still waiting for more content), that made me wonder what Sinclair Bryant would be like if he were a father

Title: The Playful Heart

Summary: Sinclair Bryant’s childlike spirit shines as he and his son embark on imaginative adventures, bringing warmth and laughter into their home.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader & OC

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Lionel and Turpin dad content! 😊 As for Sinclair Bryant being a father, oh boy, that would be something! I imagine he'd be the kind of dad who's equal parts loving and totally clueless. Like, he'd give his kids books on advanced science when they’re five, and when they cry because they don’t get it, he’d be like, "But it’s fascinating, don’t you think?" He'd probably also lose track of time reading and forget that his toddler is still sitting in their high chair... But his heart would definitely be in the right place! 😅

I might just have to explore that more—thanks for the idea! 😄

Also read on Ao3

You stood in the doorway of the living room, hands on your hips, a bemused smile tugging at your lips as you watched the two men you loved most in this life—your husband, Sinclair Bryant, and your two-year-old son, James Bryant—crawling around on all fours, completely engrossed in their game. The sight of them together, both blond heads bobbing up and down as they moved across the carpet, filled you with warmth. But there was also a fair amount of curiosity as you tried to figure out exactly what they were doing.

“What are you two playing this time?” you asked, amusement lacing your tone as you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the scene before you.

James, ever the enthusiastic little boy, looked up at you with a wide grin, his hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re dogs, Mommy!” he declared proudly, his voice bubbling with joy. “Daddy says we’re playing pretend to be dogs!”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the declaration. Before you could fully process the idea of your husband and son playing pretend dogs, you noticed Sinclair by the couch, and your confusion deepened.

“Clair?” you called out, your voice carrying a note of disbelief as you saw him crouched near the armrest, his expression entirely too serious for someone involved in such a ridiculous activity.

Before you could say anything else, Sinclair, in all his child-like exuberance, proceeded to lift his leg as if he were a dog marking his territory—on the couch. Your eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, you quickly approached him, your hands pushing against his shoulder as you urgently hissed, “Stop it, Sinclair! What on earth are you doing?”

James, who had been watching his father with rapt attention, burst into a fit of giggles, his laughter filling the room with an infectious joy. “Daddy’s being a doggy!” he squealed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the situation.

Sinclair looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his blond hair slightly tousled from all the crawling around. “What?” he asked, his tone completely guileless. “Dogs do this all the time, don’t they? I was just showing James how to—”

You quickly cut him off with a mix of exasperation and affection. “Clair, sweetie, we don’t need to teach James how to pretend to pee like a dog. Especially not on the couch.”

Realization dawned on Sinclair’s face, and a sheepish grin spread across his lips. “Ah, right,” he said, his baritone voice tinged with a touch of embarrassment. “Probably not the best idea.”

James, still giggling, crawled over to you, tugging at your pant leg as he looked up with a beaming smile. “Mommy, Daddy’s funny!” he declared, his little face glowing with pure, unfiltered joy.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the situation too ridiculous not to find humor in it. You bent down to scoop James into your arms, pressing a kiss to his soft blond hair. “Yes, Daddy is very funny,” you agreed, your eyes meeting Sinclair’s with a mix of amusement and love.

Sinclair, ever the good-natured father, straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, still grinning despite his earlier misstep. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to find a different game to play,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Maybe we could be cats instead? They don’t mark their territory quite so… noticeably.”

James clapped his hands in excitement, clearly thrilled at the prospect of a new game. “Cats! Let’s be cats, Daddy!”

You shook your head, still smiling as you watched the two of them. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father—kind, patient, and always willing to dive headfirst into whatever imaginative world James wanted to explore. Even when his ideas went slightly off the rails, as they had today, his heart was always in the right place, and that was what mattered most.

You interrupted their game with a playful smile, stating, “Alright, my little pups—or should I say, cats—it’s time for dinner.” The mere mention of food instantly caught the attention of both Sinclair and James, their heads snapping toward you with identical expressions of eagerness. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how much alike they looked at that moment, their shared love for food shining brightly in their eyes.

“Dinner!” James exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly as he scrambled to his feet, ready to race toward the dining room.

Sinclair, ever the enthusiastic father, followed suit, his long legs easily keeping pace with his son’s hurried steps. He shot you a grin over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll be the fastest cats to the dinner table!” he declared, his baritone voice filled with playful determination.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you followed them into the dining room. Once there, you gently lifted James into his high chair, securing him with practiced ease. Sinclair took his seat next to James, his expression one of eager anticipation as he watched you with the same child-like enthusiasm as his son.

“Smells delicious, love,” Sinclair remarked, his hazel eyes shifting from brown to green in the soft light of the dining room. His nose twitched slightly as he caught the scent of the meal you had prepared, and he offered you a warm, appreciative smile.

“Thank you, Clair,” you replied, feeling a rush of affection for your husband as you served the food. Since your maid was on a well-deserved vacation, you had taken it upon yourself to prepare dinner, and you were glad to see that your efforts were so well-received.

You placed a plate in front of Sinclair, who eagerly leaned in to take a closer look. “Oh, is this your famous shepherd’s pie?” he asked, his tone bordering on reverent as he inhaled the savory aroma.

“Indeed it is,” you confirmed with a nod, moving to serve James his own portion—cut into smaller, manageable pieces for his tiny hands. “And for you, James, I made your favorite—mini shepherd’s pie just for you.”

James’s eyes lit up at the sight of his plate, and he immediately reached for his fork, though his small hand fumbled slightly in his excitement. “Yummy!” he declared, beaming up at you. “Thank you, Mommy!”

“You’re very welcome, sweetie,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his blond head before sitting down to join your two favorite boys.

As the three of you began eating, the dining room filled with the pleasant sounds of clinking utensils, satisfied hums, and, of course, Sinclair’s chatter. He regaled James with stories of dinosaurs, punctuating his words with grand gestures that had James giggling between bites of his dinner.

“And you know,” Sinclair said, leaning closer to James with a conspiratorial air, “Tyrannosaurus Rex had teeth as big as bananas! Can you imagine that? Bananas, James!”

James’s eyes went wide with wonder, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth as he stared at his father in awe. “Really, Daddy?” he asked, his voice filled with amazement. “Bananas?”

“Absolutely,” Sinclair replied with a firm nod, his own eyes twinkling with amusement. “They were big, strong, and very hungry dinosaurs. Just like us when we’re ready for dinner!”

You watched the exchange with a fond smile, your heart swelling with love for your little family. Sinclair might be a bit naive at times, but his ability to connect with James in such a genuine, playful way was one of the things you cherished most about him.

As dinner came to an end, you couldn’t help but notice how much James had eaten, his little tummy full from the meal you’d prepared. He looked up at you with drowsy eyes, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Mommy, that was so good,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m glad you liked it, darling,” you said, reaching over to gently stroke his cheek. “Now, how about we get you ready for bed?”

James nodded, his head already drooping slightly as he leaned against the side of his high chair. Sinclair, ever the doting father, was quick to scoop his son up into his arms, cradling him close as he stood from the table. “Let’s get you into your favorite pajamas, buddy,” he said softly, his voice soothing and full of love.

You followed them up the stairs to James’s room, where Sinclair gently laid him down on the bed. He then walked over to the dresser, pulling out the pair of dinosaur pajamas that James adored so much. The moment James saw the familiar green and blue pattern, his eyes lit up, and he wiggled in excitement.

“Dino jammies!” James exclaimed, holding out his arms eagerly for Sinclair to help him into them.

Sinclair chuckled as he dressed his son, carefully guiding James’s small arms and legs into the soft fabric. “That’s right, little man,” he said, buttoning up the pajamas with a smile. “The best pajamas for the best little boy.”

Once James was dressed, Sinclair lifted him into his arms again, holding him close as they played a little game of “dinosaur growls,” with Sinclair pretending to be a T-Rex while James giggled and tried to imitate the sound. The room was filled with the sounds of their laughter, a pure and joyful moment that you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

But as the playfulness began to wind down and you noticed James’s eyes growing heavier, you stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Sinclair’s arm. “Alright, time for bed, both of you,” you said softly, your tone laced with amusement. “James needs his rest, and so do you, Clair.”

Sinclair looked up at you with a sheepish grin, clearly reluctant to end the fun. “Just one more minute?” he asked, though he was already lowering James into his bed.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss Sinclair’s cheek. “One more minute,” you agreed, your heart full as you watched the two most important people in your life share this special moment.

Sinclair tucked James in, pulling the blankets up to his chin before leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, little dino,” he whispered, his voice full of affection.

James’s eyes fluttered closed, a contented smile on his face as he murmured, “Goodnight, Daddy… Goodnight, Mommy…”

You stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on your son’s cheek as well. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” you whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

As you and Sinclair left the room, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father, and you knew that James was lucky to have a dad who loved him so fiercely.

With James now asleep, Sinclair wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walked down the hallway together. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think tomorrow, we should play pirates. Or maybe astronauts. What do you think?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as you walked. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure James will love it,” you replied, knowing that Sinclair’s enthusiasm for playtime was one of the many things that made him such a great father.

As you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him, your eyes filled with love. “You’re an amazing dad, Sinclair,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “James is so lucky to have you.”

Sinclair smiled down at you, his hazel eyes filled with warmth as he held you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his voice deep and sincere. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

And as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a loving embrace, you knew that there was no place you’d rather be than right here, in the arms of the man you loved, in the home you had built together, with the son who had brought so much joy into your lives.

[mimisplayground]

Captain Price, Brat Tamer Extraordinaire

tags: brat taming, spanking, thorough prep, ALL ACTIVELY CONSENTED TO, however.., power imbalance, hinted at poly!141, KINDA a free use kink BUT NOT EXPLICITLY, aftercare at its finest, dumbifcation (dick got you stupid), open to ghost sequel :3, power difference but the hot way, he calls you love and sweetie, you call him sir and his rank while hes fucking you so…

uuuhhhh i just REALLY want that old british man…

—————-

Price was an authortive man. He was firm when he spoke and he didn’t take arguments to his orders.

So when the cute little mouthy cadet glares at him and tells him to fuck off, he almost wants to be mad. He acts mad, his voice booming in your face and blood flowing to his dick when he watches you continue to glare even as tears well in your eyes, your bottom lip quivering as you do what your told. Grumbling under your breath.

This becomes a pattern. You listen well for a few days, longest he’s clocked you behaving was a week. Finally you start to get a bit mouthy and him or one of the others end up having to get loud with you to get you acting right. Though he would never forget the time he watched you roll your eyes at Ghost when he had just yelled at you. And he doesn’t think he could get the look of your face crying while Ghost has a hand wrapped around it with your cheeks smushed together out of his mind either.

Certainly not when it’s the main thing he thinks of recently when he’s got his hand wrapped tight around his own dick.

You were a crybaby. An awfully pretty one. But you were a fucking brat, and it left Price stuck with being incredibly turned on and pissed everytime he had a feeling it was gonna be another day where you wanted to run your mouth.

So he was surprised when one day, walking past the room where the men changed, he heard Soap snickering about how he wished he could fuck you, see how long you kept mouthing back. Not surprised at the statement, Price knew the others wanted to get their hands on you. But surprised at how much he himself seemed to contemplate the idea.

Which was what led to you being led into his office when you had next mouthed off. Months of your attitude had worn on him, and when you had told him to “fuck off and shove it up his own ass”, he had quickly and quietly made it clear that he expected you to follow him to his office. You stood there in front of his desk with your arms crossed, tapping your foot and huffing often.

Price stared you down for a moment. “I’m sick of your attitude.” He had practically snarled out. Watching you shift awkwardly, as if the annoyance was fading into worry. “And I think it’s time we take care of it.” Price finished off calmly. It left you nervous, he could tell. He sat down, and he waved his hand for you to come closer.

“I’m not gonna force you. If you say no it’s fine, and you’ll run 20 laps.” He saw you shudder at that. It was by no means a small track. And he knew you had only ever done 10 at the most. But it was the alternative and equal punishment he had picked for if you declined him now. ��If you don’t want to do that, you’ll lay across my lap.” He finished, watching to gauge your reaction.

He saw you contemplate. “I want you to know that neither is the easy way out. Your attitude problem will be fixed when Im done with you, one way or another.” You huffed.

“Gonna spank me like you’re my dad or some shit?” You sassed at him, nodding in consent and yelping when he tugs you down and across his lap. “Yea love, that’s the plan.” He laughs slightly as he yanks your uniform pants down, happy he caught you in a moment where you didn’t have the full uniform on and he didn’t have to worry about the padding and belt. Yanking your underwear down with the pants and staring at your ass for a moment.

“Perv.” You mumbled out, yelping when a harsh, sharp smack landed on your behind. You squirmed, and Price kept a hand firm on your back. His hand raised and dropped down again quickly, 5 more smacks coming in succession.

He had never been known for being light with his hands, and it was showing in the discoloration of your behind. You were squirming around, complaining loudly. “You’re a fucking dick! I hate you, you’re awful!” You had been screaming it out practically, and his anger spiked at the idea that someone could be outside thinking he was allowing you to speak to him like that.

“Enough!” He boomed out, the harshest smack he had delivered so far landing right where your thigh and ass met. You yelped harshly and quieted down quickly. You both sat in silence for a moment, Price trying desperately to will away the blood rushing to his cock.

With another blow he had hit the other side in the exact same spot, eliciting a choked noise. He knew he had hit a sensitive spot. You remained quiet, hoping it would grant you mercy.

“Apologize now, and I’ll consider stopping. Want to hear you beg, sweet thing.” He had demanded, watching you profusely shake your head no at his order. “That’s too bad,” he sighs, rubbing your behind softly before pinching a bruise and hearing your whimper “I would’ve even been nice to you after if you listened the first time.”

His assault quickly picked back up, now focusing on the sensitive back of your thighs. He listens to you ramble out pleas of mercy and sobbing out apologies. After a good ten hits he had stopped again, not before pinching the soft spot he had just spanked raw and bruised and listen to your whimper.

You whine and cry, mumbling out apologies that has him sighing and moving you up so you’re sat gently on his lap as he hugs you and soothes your back as you cry and squirm away from where your ass meets his rough pants. He had hugged you to show comfort, but also to hide how flushed his face had gotten listening to your cries and whines.

He really couldn’t hide the bulge in his pants much though, and he full blown jolted when he heard your cries quiet down and felt your hand brush against the bulge. He leans back in his chair, quirking a brow up at your attempt at puppy eyes with him. “Lemme make it up to you…” you mumble out, fiddling with the waistband of his pants and tugging at his shirt to untuck it.

Price stares at you for a moment, sighing before he picks you up and sets you on his desk, grinning slightly at the groan you let out from the soreness of your bottom. He grins harder when you hears your grumble at the fact that he grinned. He unbuckles his belt quickly and yanks it down, and he can’t help but feel pride swell at the squeak you let out before shuffling away.

“It won’t fit,” you said, with so much resolve that Price was almost inclined to believe you. Instead he let out a loud laugh and grabbed your calf, lifting it up gently and watching you hesitantly lean back to lay on his desk. He massages your leg gently, all the way to your upper thigh before quickly giving the other leg the same gentle treatment. “Promise I’ll be gentle preparing you, we’re through most of the punishment part anyways, love.” He has your leg grasped in his hand, pulling it over and leaving a kiss on your ankle. “If you’re ok with it?”

And god grant you mercy, why did a grown man, your Captain no less, have to be so weirdly cute with the way he tilted his head as he asked the question. You stare at him for a moment, and he grins softly when you nod yes to him. He leans over, arms caging you down and leaving kisses all over your face. One of his hands runs down your body, reaching between your legs and toying with your most sensitive spots.

He plays with you until you’re putty underneath him. Gentle and just firm enough to leave you twitching and teetering the edge of release with your brain reduced practically to goo. He’s so composed as he does it too, an arm keeping you pinned so you can’t buck your hips up and his body blocking you from being able to squirm away. Stuck at his mercy and babbling incoherent nonsense and begs.

The hand finally goes further down and the tears coming from your eyes at this point are from ecstasy. A single finger prods at your entrance, and he wishes he could he felt bad about spitting into his own hand to lube it up to push the first digit inside of you with the mix of your arousal to help. But from the way your shuddering and pushing down on his finger, he would argue that you probably didn’t mind much. He was gentle with adding another finger as well, scissoring you open and listening to your loud groans.

He had gotten to three fingers quickly, stretching and thrusting them before you finally managed to cut through your own incoherency. “Please, Captain, Sir, anything, whatever you wan’ me to call you just please,” he was almost impressed with how you drew out the please into a whine, “put it in. Wan’ you in me, now Sir, please.”

That was really the only coherent thought and sentence you seemed able to string together right now. At least thats what Price would guess from the way you went back to your mumbles and moans. So he sighed and kissed at your tears as he pulled his fingers out and lined himself up, pushing in slow and firmly.

By the time he was all the way in he had to stop and give himself a moment to catch his breath. “So tight love, grippin’ me tight.” He was groaning, lifting your legs over his shoulders and into a mating press. He listened to your begs for him to move, to mess up your insides real nice. After a few moments he listened to those pleas.

He thrusts hard, snapping his hips up and stopping after he hears you squeal “It hurts!” He leans down, kissing your tears again. “Need me to stop? Don’ wan’ to hurt you love,” he kisses your lips as you pout.

It takes everything in you to pull a full thought together and even more to get it out. “Hurts where you spanked me…” you groan out, whining when he laughs and pinches a bit at the spot. “Want me to-“ hes cut off at your quick shaking of your head and a small “don’ stop.”

“Whatever you want love, call it part of the punishment.” He leaves another kiss on your lips and goes back to harsh thrusts that leave you screaming and gasping for air under him. He’s firm and rough, but the absolute perfect pace that leaves you downright shaking.

And when his hand comes down to play with your sensitive spots again as he thrusts, you feel the knot inside of you tighten and snap as your eyes roll back and your body arches up off the table and into Price. He holds onto you tight, continuing his thrusts harshly as you twitch under him, your hands reaching up and petting his hair as if to let him know to continue.

“Wan’ cum inside sweetie, can I? Please love…” he groans as you nod yes into his neck and with a final harsh thrust he feels the knot in his own stomach burst as he cums deep inside of you.

You both lay there for a moment, panting harshly with sweat all of the both of you. You look a mess, tear streaks down your face and drool from your mouth. And Price looks up at you questioningly after you giggling when he leaves a kiss on his shoulder.

“Your mustache tickles.” You say with a small smile, and he smiles back before leaning down to kiss you. He picks you up, opening a door to his private room -and straight to the bathroom- setting you down on the toilet.

You sigh in relief when he picks you up and sinks you both into the bathtub. You squirm a bit at the sting of warm bath water on your sore ass, and he kisses the back of your neck as he gets to work washing the both of you.

Price has you sleep in his room, and finds himself snickering for the next week when he catches you opting to stand when able. And holding back almost full laughter when you’re forced to sit at meetings or in vehicles as you squirm around.

And when he hears that your attitude is getting bad with the others again when you’re so sweet and almost obedient in front of him, Price shrugs and tells them to figure it out.

When he walks past the training room to see you in a headlock by Ghost while he’s clearly whispering something mean in your ear (if your tears are anything to go by), hes got a feeling your attitude will be getting a lot better for all of them soon.

————

left it open for a sequel for da cod hoes

PLS HYPE THIS UP MY OLD MAN DESERVES IT. and guys this was like, almost entirely self indulgent so… sowwy :p (pls ignore any typos guys… i literally have no beta reader its just me, my whims, and my prozac getting us through these fanfics)

again, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! SEND IN ASKS!! I WILL GET TO THEM!! im running out of ideas guys pls send asks and requests…

[milkywayes]

As someone who greatly enjoys your turian HCs and given your recent art, I must ask: How do you think Garrus feels about dressing up? Does Shep enjoy seeing him all gussied up? Was he that teen with the turian equivalent of logo tees and beanies? Did his parents dress up for Hierarchy events given Castis’ tier?

ooooh hell yeah thanks for the questions, i love this. gonna be a long one

my thoughts/HCs are as thus:

generally speaking, at least for heterosexual relationships turian women are the ones to approach a potential partner and the males will attempt attracting them by looking good / having a good reputation and accomplishments. long fringes are supposed to impress, hence why only the men evolved them, but it would make sense to me that they’d try to dress up even more to better their chances. picture men in a turian bar posing and wearing their finest outfits to stand out. hell, even turian armor is kind of fancy compared to what other species don. their civvies are very elaborate. it tracks.

but then there’s garrus, who… is just not very interested in all that. i like imagining that the ‘bad turian’ thing goes beyond not being an obedient soldier. so he does not enjoy dressing up. he’s never actively tried attracting a partner like that, and he got shepard without trying, even if he’s still not sure how he pulled that off. to say he’s out of his depth and feeling awkward is an understatement. he got the high rank in the hierarchy in the least straight-forward way imaginable, probably without precedent. he stumbled his way sideways into this gig by uhhh being himself, which is an uncompromising maverick idealist, and by trying to do right by shepard and their mission. not by acting how other turians expected him to.

shepard enjoys it, which is probably the only redeeming factor to garrus. a good chunk of that enjoyment is mirth because she loves when garrus is feeling awkward. it’s a big contrast to his usual confidence and swagger, which she also loves, but rarity’s a factor and she’s gonna take any entertainment she can get from attending these shit functions. (she’s going in utilitarian dress blues, suit and pants combo herself. no jewelry. you can’t make her. lmfao.) that said, he also looks hot in that getup. no complaints from her. or anyone else in attendance. she could point this out to garrus but he wouldn’t believe her. he can be an arrogant bastard, even after getting the scars, but he’s already feeling insecure about his place in the hierarchy and at the event, so there’s none of that right now. at least not for the first half hour. he catches her ogling him a couple times and that does end up boosting his confidence.

as a teen i think he just wore uniforms. i can’t imagine that turian schools don’t have uniforms. i don’t think he’d have had the interest to modify them, he’d have put that energy elsewhere (weapons mods. lol), so you wouldn’t have been able to tell just from looking at him that he’s a bit of a weirdo. but you’d notice fast enough upon meeting him. maladjusted child/teen garrus is important to me. he was lucky he was cute and got good grades.

as for his parents… castis wouldn’t be on palaven often enough to attend lots of hierarchy functions, and while i think mama vakarian had a very respectable tier for her age, only the real high ups who had to impress and be seen by the public really attend galas and such. the couple they did go to, they’d have dressed up, but maybe not as much as i dressed garrus up in that drawing - castis was no advisor to the primarch, and my headcanon for him says he prefers things to be utilitarian. a ‘let my work speak for itself’ kind of guy. he’ll do all that is required, and he’ll be meticulous about it, but he has no love for extravagance.

the funny thing is, castis and garrus are very alike in some ways but then their respective belief systems diverge so heavily that the things they have in common end up working against each other / their relationship lol. they both live for their ideals, they’re stubborn as all get out, they don’t do things just to appease other people.

garrus has more of a swagger though. and he’ll be extravagant - but mostly when showing off his sniping skills. put dangly, sparkly chains on him and he’ll act like a hapless cat that just had something put on their body against their will.

[wing-ed-thing]

Girl's Night (Konoha 12 Girls x Reader x Shizune x Tsunade)

Synopsis: After a long week for everyone, Ino decides it's time for a girl's night.

Word Count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Ino Blackmails Shikamaru, Dinner and Mocktails, Girls Supporting Gals, Men Being Invasive, Discussion of Nicotine Addiction

Notes: DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO TRACK DOWN ALL THESE SOLO PANELS???

Tsunade was still screaming by the time the door closed. Ino, still reeling from her latest interaction with the Fifth Hokage, was still frozen outside. You saw her on your way in, unaware of the horrible interaction she was still processing. And when she noted the rather pleasant look in your eye on your way to the office, she tried to warn you, but no warning could prepare you for the absolute hurricane on the other side of the office doors. 

You slumped down next to her, your important documents plopping to the floor next to you. Ino still had hers in her lap, scrunched between her lap and chest as she seemed to curl in on herself. And as your head began to droop, Ino offered you an encouraging pat on the shoulder. 

“It’s not you if that makes you feel any better,” she said, “Lady Tsunade has been chewing out everyone who’s visited her today. The guy sulking before me just left when you came.”

The long groan you let out signaled that, no, it did not make you feel any better. You ran two hands over your hairline, pushing your hitai-ate back along with the sea of strands behind it. You took your loose forehead protector in your hands.

“I need a break,” you lamented, letting your head drop again, “I don’t know how much more I have in me. When the day’s over, I’m going straight home to sleep away the entire weekend…” You groaned into your knees, slowly curling into a tighter and tighter ball.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ino scrambled from beside you to stand and take you by the hands. “You’re not leaving me.” She heaved you up with a tight grip on your wrists, putting her back into heaving up your dead weight. Ino was surprisingly strong, something you often forgot until you were manhandled by the scrawniest muscles you’ve ever seen. You stumbled to your feet, and before you could slump back down, Ino had picked up your work.

“But Ino—” She slapped the stack of paperwork against your chest despite disgruntled protest. “Ow…”

“No!” she huffed, tugging you down the hall and the stairwell of the Hokage building. Ino marched along as if she were on a warpath. A few Jōnin leaped out of your way. “It is a Friday night, and I’ve decided that we’re going to have fun!” Ino gripped the files in her hands as a burning fury blazed in her eye. 

“We?” 

Ino whipped you around when you finally reached the exit, already spewing about all the potential activities you could do for the night. She tucked the reports under her arm to take you excitedly by the hands. 

“I’ll talk to Sakura at the hospital, and you find Hinata and Tenten. We’ll meet at my place at seven, no, six!” You flailed your hands for her to let go, which she did without a moment of hesitation in explaining her plan. “I expect everyone to be dressed to the nines, so don’t embarrass me! I have a whole plan!” 

You retied your hitai-ate, feeling more secure in organizing your stray hairs. 

And just like that, Ino was gone. 

***

Hinata was easy to find, with Tenten being a little less so. However, Tenten hadn’t needed any convincing.

“A girl’s night?” she practically cried, just about tackling you to the ground in joy. “Yes, yes, of course, yes!” When you regained a moment to breathe, she glanced around at her two teammates, who had both stopped training when you arrived. “Please tell me it’s soon.” 

“Ino’s place at six,” you relayed, “And she’s expecting everyone to be kinda dressed up.” Tenten squealed something about pants that was too high a decibel to hear. Lee raised his hand somewhere in the background.

“Can Neji and I come?” he asked, much to Neji’s complaint. You didn’t even have the opportunity to respond.

“It’s girl’s night, you idiot!” 

Tenten threw something from her arsenal that had Lee diving to the ground. 

You supposed she really needed a break from her team after all…

Hinata, on the other hand, required much more convincing. 

“I, uh— I just don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to wear.” She played with the gravel under her boot. Hinata refused to look at you, clearly stressed about Ino’s orders for attire as you lounged on the Hyūga engawa, unbothered.

“If you’re worried, you could just wear what you usually wear,” you offered. While not what Ino intended, you assumed Hinata’s usual jacket would be better than her riling herself up and fainting over picking a new outfit. 

“No!” she asserted, her sudden volume— well, volume for Hinata— surprising you enough to prop yourself up on your elbows. She cast her eyes back toward the ground. “I just, um— I don’t know…”

“I can help you pick out an outfit if you want.”

“Oh… I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

And so went the cycle until you finally strongarmed Hinata into finally letting you inside.

***

You arrived at Ino’s first. Inoichi appeared surprised, although not too shocked to see you on his doorstep. He greeted you warmly, stepping to the side to let you in.

“Another girl’s night?”

“Dad,” you heard Ino whine as you stepped into the entryway. She appeared down the hallway, hands in the middle of adjusting her hair as a bobby pin sat clenched between her teeth as she glared at him. “Go away!” 

Inoichi laughed almost sheepishly, having been through all of this many times before. You took off your shoes.

“Girl’s night, I know, but at least let me make you some tea before you all head out.” You offered Inoichi a grateful smile as he retreated into the kitchen just as Ino made her way down the hall.

“Oh my god, is that new?” She gestured to your top. You were about to ask her the same thing. Her slim, violet blouse draped asymmetrically down one arm, and you could have sworn it would have been all she talked about if it were new. Ino walked a circle around you before pushing you fully into the apartment. “Please tell me you’ll let me borrow it next time?”

“Only if you tell me where you got yours from. Sheek seventies goddess!” 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, you’re too kind.” 

You sat down across from her at a small table. You remembered when the Yamanaka’s switched it out for a larger one, but the small table had remained close to the entryway. Ino immediately settled her cheek in her hand, kicking her feet lightly as she sat. 

“It was actually Tenten’s if you’d believe it! She said she didn’t like the color, and I was like are you crazy?” Ino narrated. “But then again, I know she’s more of a warm-color babe, but I’m still trying to get her to get personally color-tested.” 

You heard Inoichi shuffle around one of the corners, and Ino sprung up to meet him, shooing him off again before returning with your tea. The amber liquid sat in handmade ceramic mugs painted with natural colors. A little sugar bowl sat on the side, a smiley face drawn in the grains with the teaspoon. 

***

The rest of your friends arrived fairly punctually, with Tenten arriving fifteen minutes before your scheduled time. (You supposed she really, really needed a break from her team.) Sakura and Hinata didn’t come a second late. After a round of fawning over outfits and eyeliner, you were off into the night to follow Ino’s detailed itinerary.

“Alright, everyone, I want pictures!” 

“Ino, where did you even get that?”

Ino set a tiny camera on a nearby planter, propping it up by the shrub that sat inside. She quickly backed up to the four of you, nearly toppling Sakura to the ground. She grabbed Hinata by the arm, ready to pose.

“It’s on a timer, you guys, quick!” Ino exclaimed through gritted teeth, and with only a few seconds to spare, you all posed together for your first documented girl’s night. She even got a few more in by the time you decided it was time to head into the lounge. 

The Silver Shurriken was the new lounge that opened up in the village’s downtown, and ever since its opening, Ino hadn’t been able to stop talking about it. You’ve all likely heard the menu several times— they specialized in Mizu no Kuni-style tapas— in addition to the wide selection of specialty mocktails. And for someone who was adamant about saying there was never anything to do in Konoha, Ino was over the moon. 

Ino just about ordered everything, and as half of the table stared over at her with wide eyes, she flashed a fat wad of cash from her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, girlies; dinner’s on Shikamaru tonight,” she announced with a wink. 

“What the fuck, Ino! Where’d you get all that?” Sakura nearly spat out her water, leaning over to thumb through the stack in her hand. Ino fanned her smug expression with the stack before tucking it back inside her purse.

“Shikamaru’s mom doesn’t know about his new smoking habit.” 

Tenten couldn’t help the single, boisterous laugh that jumped from her throat. She slammed a hand on the table.

“So you’re blackmailing him?” 

Ino ran her fingers through her bangs, casting her almost guilty gaze off somewhere toward the ceiling. But as your food came to the table, the group grew distracted. Each of you eyed the small plates— one of everything came— and thanked your server in a chorus. Ino trailed off, forgetting what she was saying.

“I wouldn’t call it blackmail so much as…”

“As what?” Tenten snarked with another laugh, reaching to pull a seasoned pepper from one of the plates. 

Ino frowned, a pout anchoring her lips downward as she slapped Tenten’s hand away with attitude and a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, you’re really questioning my methods when dinner and drinks are being paid for?” 

She had a point.

With a motion of your brow, you held up your fruity mixed drink, a cracker with cheese halfway up to your lips. 

“To Shikamaru’s nicotine addiction!” 

You exchanged pointed eye contact with the other girls at the table before you all took a collective shrug. The other girls raised their glasses. 

“To Shikamaru’s nicotine addiction!”

***

You barely made a crack at a quarter of what you ordered before you were interrupted.

“Sakura? Sakura Haruno?” A group of shinobi who were walking by stopped at your high top as they passed through, one tapping Sakura on the shoulder and nearly causing her to jump. You almost slapped his hand off of her, but she grabbed your wrist underneath the table.

“Eh, yes?” she smiled. You exchanged a glance with Ino, who took a dip from her drink, eyes flickering up and back toward her glass. Sakura’s hand left yours to intercept the shinobi’s, redirecting him expertly.

“I thought I recognized you!” He nearly burst into tears. “This angel right here saved my life!” He turned to proclaim to the rest of his friends, who you guessed were just about as drunk as he was. Only when the shinobi began to remove his shirt did your mutual glances turn into gapes of horror. By this time, the man actually was crying. “Got stabbed through the chest! I didn’t think I’d see the light of day again!”

Sure enough, there was a scar about three inches in length on the right side of his chest. 

“Oh, well, thank you,” Sakura laughed cordially, though wearily. “I’m glad it’s healed well. Have a good night, boys.” A vein twitched on her forehead, clearly unenthused at having her work brought into her time off. As vexed as she was, she wasn’t about to get all of you kicked out of the Silver Shurriken.

“Tenten! Hey! We didn’t know you’d be here!” A voice that was unmistakably Lee carried loudly from the front entrance. Tenten immediately tensed. Facing away from the door, her eyes darted to you and Hinata as if to silently ask if what she feared was truly behind her. “Tenten!”

You soon realized that Lee wasn’t alone. 

“Oh, hey, guys!” Naruto chimed, hands clasped together behind his head. Still engaged with the band of shinobi she had apparently saved the lives of, Sakura did a double take. “Fancy seeing you all here!” 

“Lee told us you all were doing a girl’s night, so we decided to do a guy’s night!” Kiba barked. “It was meant to be!” As the guys settled into the table next to yours, Hinata flagged down your waiter to discreetly ask for a to-go box and the check.

“Hinata? Hinata, is that you?” Neji pushed through the group of guys with a stern scowl. “What are you doing here? Is this why you skipped this evening’s training?"

You didn’t know how it happened, but your entire girl’s night had devolved into chaos. Between the guys constantly trying to engage you from the table over to the line of people asking Sakura for medical advice, Tenten ripping Lee to shreds, and the fact that Hinata had apparently snuck out, your night had gone awry. Ino smacked someone who tried to touch her hair.

“Hey,” Hinata whispered. It was a miracle that you heard her. You turned, and to your surprise, your food was already packaged in boxes in her hands. A few reusable bottles clinked in the tote she slung over her shoulder, having poured your drinks in them under the table. You could only wonder where she learned that one. “Let’s go.” She gestured with her head.

With a series of rapid taps on the leg and pointed eye contact, you collected the girls quickly, each of you rising from your table with bags and jackets already in hand. Ino paid the check in full with a generous tip, ignoring protests from Shikamaru in the background. You hardly said goodbye, each of you scurrying out of the lounge as quickly as possible, pissed.

You regrouped outside. Ino nearly kicked over a potted plant.

“Can we just take a second to talk about—”

“That was unbelievable!” Tenten, who was likely the most flustered, exclaimed. “Like, what the actual fuck?” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, guys. I should have known something like this was going to happen. It’s my fault.”

You were all on her in an instant.

“Hey! Stop that!”

“No, it wasn’t your fault; it was just an unlucky night.”

“You didn’t do anything, Tenten!”

Ino sighed, starting back down the road with a defeated gait.

“So… back to my place?” she sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of you. You began to follow, but Sakura stayed, looking off toward the Hokage building. A single night continued to illuminate one of the upstairs offices. 

“Is Lady Tsunade still working?” she mused with knitted brows. “That can’t be right.”

“She was when I dropped off my mission report before I went to Ino’s,” Hinata chimed, coming up next to Sakura with your packaged food still in hand. Sakura turned to the rest of you with a sympathetic expression. Ino puffed up immediately.

“Oh, no! No! I know what you’re about to say, and no!” She pointed a finger rudely, having her hands in the air as if to physically ward off Sakura’s unspoken idea. “Tsunade is the whole reason why we’re having a girl’s night out in the first place! To forget about work!”

“I know she’s been crabby as of late, but if she’s been staying late handling all the village paperwork, that’s probably why.” Sakura’s lip turned downward into a pout. “It would be a nice thing to do. We have plenty of food.”

“I think a night in would be a great idea. Things around here have been pretty hectic.” Hinata nodded, holding up the stack of boxes. “We certainly have enough.”

“Shizune is probably still in there,” you said, causing Tenten to noticeably wince.

“Yikes.”

Much to Ino’s deflation, it appeared a consensus was made. 

***

Tsunade looked exhausted. A cup of coffee sat in front of her, and while she appeared awake enough to get her paperwork done, you could see the fatigue in her eyes. Shizune was just about dozing off at a table pushed to the side of the room. Tonton was asleep at her feet. 

“Huh?” Tsunade sounded at the opening of her office doors. She stood alert, her reading glasses at the tip of her nose. “What happened? Why are you all here so late?” She came around her desk, studying you with intent concern.

“We saw you were still working,” Sakura started, gesturing to the leftovers you brought from the Silver Shurriken. “And we were doing a bit of a girl’s night.” You watched as Tsunade’s expression appeared to soften. 

“And we brought food!” You smiled, ushering the rest of you farther into the office. Shizune sat up from her desk in acute surprise, delayed in registering everything. Tsunade’s neutral expression slowly morphed from acute concern to pleasantly surprised. 

“It’s from the new lounge that opened up downtown,” Ino added.

“Oh,” she said, a spurring noise in the back of her throat as she fought for words to say, “Thank you. Here, let me put down a blanket. We can sit.” Tsunade scurried off to a corner of the office with a certain amount of giddiness.

You helped her set out the green blanket before you sat down together. Hinata opened all the containers as Shizune ransacked the cabinets for a few paper plates. You all ate together, your girl’s night not ruined after all. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes (tw knife violence): the last time i went out with my friends, i almost got into a fight and stabbed someone... twice.

[kandisheek]

Hey friend!! Some prompts for you (choose your fave, do them all, whatever floats your boat!)

1. Steve and female Tony during a team picnic/party and Steve surprises Toni by asking her to re-marry him and renew their vows 😍

2. Steve and Tony undercover and having to make out for cover identity reasons, except then they get into it a little too much and lose track of the target

3. Bucky and Tony in a daemon au—Bucky has a white wolf (obvi) and Tony has a leopard, and when they first meet during CW their daemons touch and they both jolt and realize that they’re soulmates, effectively ending any conflict between the sides of the teams

Have fun friend!!! 🥰🥰

Hello friend! Sorry for the long wait! I chose your undercover prompt and went ham with it ;) I hope you enjoy!

---

“Can't believe they're making us do this,” Brock grumbled, toying with the gun in his pocket as he walked through yet another clothing store, surreptitiously looking around for their target. He'd known from the first moment he'd met him that Rogers was a pain in the ass, but he never would've guessed that he'd have to hunt him down in a fucking mall of all places.

When he'd joined STRIKE, Brock had thought that their missions would include a lot more active combat, something fun where he could let loose. Instead they'd been sent on their third recon mission in a row, and he was getting sick of walking around like an asshole, looking for some fucker who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

“Nothing in the back,” Rollins said as they regrouped, and Brock nodded.

“Get Piper and Flynn and spread out. Top floor.” He pointed at the remaining two of his team. “We're going to head down. Rendezvous in thirty.” Rollins nodded, marching off as Brock turned on Davis and Khan. “Let's go.”

They followed him towards the escalator, heading down to level one. Brock scanned the people coming up on the opposite side, a couple of teenage girls, an old lady, a – ugh, a fucking pair of homos kissing. Brock averted his eyes with a sneer, waiting until they passed him before he continued looking out across the hall. He stepped down onto the ground floor, checking the nearby storefronts for any sign of –

A commotion. Brock whipped around, looking up at the floor above, the one they'd just left, where the hushed murmurs of a gathering crowd could be heard. He gave Davis and Khan a sign, and they all practically sprinted up the escalator, turning towards the open space on their right to see –

Brock's mouth dropped open. For a second he couldn't believe his eyes, but there was no doubt that – yes, that was Steve fucking Rogers bending none other than Tony fucking Stark over a fucking trashcan in the middle of a public fucking mall, shoving his tongue down his throat.

“Um,” Davis said, and Brock slowly shook his head. “Is that –“

“Yes,” Brock said numbly. “Yes, it is.”

Khan shuffled his feet. “So, uh. What do we –“

“Advance on target. We just – advance on target. Yeah.” Brock cleared his throat, sticking his hand in his pocket to get a hold of his gun. “Spread out.”

Davis and Khan still looked faintly shocked as they nodded and assumed position. Neither Rogers nor Stark seemed to notice the three men closing in on them, which was understandable, given that there was already a crowd forming, Stark seemed to have both of his hands down the back of Rogers' pants, and Brock couldn't really tell whose tongue was in whose mouth at this point.

“Oh my god!”

The high-pitched screech may have made Brock wince, but Rogers and Stark sprang apart like two jacks in a box, their faces red and eyes wild. Brock wrinkled his nose. Christ, Rogers looked like he was fucking high, dazed and mussed to shit. Stark on the other hand looked like the cat who got the cream.

“What the heck do you think you're doing?” the random woman continued in the same piercing shriek, covering her two children's eyes with one hand each. “This is a public space. There are children here!”

“Oh gosh.” Rogers covered his mouth, which did nothing to hide the mortified flush on his cheeks. “Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I don't know what –“

“You better get out of here or I'll call the police,” the woman yelled, and Stark stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly.

“We'll leave. Truly, so sorry. Won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn't,” she snapped before she grabbed her children and tugged them away into the still growing crowd of curious onlookers. One of the kids kept turning back over his shoulder, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Mommy, mommy,” he said, all child-like wonder. “Was that Ironman?”

Brock glanced around the room to see several people with their phones out, obviously recording this entire mess. When he looked back at Rogers, Stark was already staring right at him, his eyes hard and full of threat. Obviously Stark was well aware of who Brock was and who he was working for. Meanwhile, the Captain looked like he was struggling not to spontaneously combust from shame.

It might have been funny, had it not been so utterly inconvenient.

He could tell that Davis and Khan were still waiting for his signal to move in, but there were too many eyes on them now. If they took Rogers in here, it would be all over the news within minutes. They couldn't afford that kind of publicity. And either way, Stark was a loose canon that they weren't prepared to deal with at this stage.

He made a subtle sign for his men to fall back, turning away from the spectacle those two idiots were still making of themselves. They'd grab Rogers out in the parking lot or something. And if Stark was still with him at that point, then Pierce could go fuck himself and his orders. Brock wasn't going to carry Rogers off while the man was saluting America in his pants.

There were limits to what he was willing to do. Even for HYDRA.

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Nᴏᴛ Iɴᴛᴏ Bᴏʏs (Jᴀᴠɪᴇʀ Pᴇñᴀ)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Javier Peña × Male Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2,4 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You had been working for Escobar from the United States until he told you to move to Colombia. It was then when you met him, and he put your world upside down with a single look, and a couple threats.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: angst, violence, mentions of death, mentions of killing, drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of unholy things (such as brothels), mentions of war, 80s typical homophobia, swearing, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of Y/N. (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: sorry for breaking your hearts, writing angst is my thing. promise next one is gonna be WAY less angsty. enjoy <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It had happened. You had told yourself it wouldn't. But it had. And you were so fucked up.

You had known Javier Peña for several months. With the war against the drugs and the cartels going, everyone knew everyone. That was something you learned fast when you moved to Colombia. The very day you arrived, you were already being tracked by everyone in town, including the kids. Still, you tried to keep it on the low.

You had moved to Colombia as an order from your boss. Of course, and like everyone else was in that time, you were involved in drug activities, and were working for the Medellín cartel from the United States. Your job was as simple as keeping track of the extradited drugsters that got to the States from the cartel and visited them once in a while, informed them of the current situation in the cartel —of course, in secret code so the cops wouldn't get any of that information—, and you kept sending money into their bank accounts for whatever purposes they wanted to give it when they got out from jail or whatever. At least it had been as simple as that, until your boss, Pablo Escobar, ordered you to move to Colombia. As you had heard —from Escobar himself, the news and all the rumors—, the war against drugs had gone to another level. You assumed that was why Escobar wanted you in Colombia, perhaps looking for that extra backup you could give him and his men when they fucked up. Whatever it was, you just did what you did best: obey without questions. And the day right after Escobar told you to come to Colombia, you were already unpacking your luggage in your new appartment.

Of course, and as you expected, you had received orders that very day. Your new job consisted of organising the drug deliveries and make sure the were done just in time, and counting the money in case someone had to go take care of the fuckers that tried to trick Escobar. Soon, you were involved in most of his important plans, too. He had said that it was an... ascension for doing your job well. 

That's how you became one of his right hand men, too. You became as close to him as Quica and Limón, who you also became close to. Soon enough, the three of you were eating, drinking, partying and getting high together when Escobar didn't need you. You even went to brothels together every now and then, when you had a night to rest from all the drug war thing.

It was one of those nights in a brothel when you had met him for the first time.

You saw him walking out of one of the brothel's rooms, still fixing his belt over his pants and with a lit cigarette positioned between his lips. 

Those so good-looking lips.

You stood staring at him for a couple of seconds, checking him out. He didn't seem to notice you looking at him until he got out of the brothel, when he glanced at you for a moment. That little glance was enough to make your heart flutter. You hadn't given it much importance then, and just continued your night at the brothel with some random girl.

Or at least you hadn't given it much importance until you met him again.

It was another one of your free nights. That time, though, you had decided to give Quica and Limón some space for themselves at the brothel while you just went to some bar and had a drink. You didn't have much time alone with yourself since you came to Colombia, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing and having a chat with your inner thoughts. But it turned out, that night you weren't able to spend alone time either.

The same man you had seen getting out of the brothel some weeks ago sat next to you at the bar. He called you "the guy that was looking at him when he got out of the brothel", which was kind of embarrassing. Though you didn't give much importance to anything about that conversation either when he got out his DEA agent badge and said that he knew who you were. Of course you were scared at first, he had the authority to take you to jail or even extradite you right there and then. 

But he didn't.

Instead, he tried to convince you to help him stop the drug war. He named some of the men he and his partners at the DEA had lost those last years because of the war against the Medellín cartel, and he numbered all the innocent deaths and every battle they had to fight only so it could result in more innocent people dead. Then he threatened you, saying he'd send you back to the States as one of those extradited drugsters you had been working for not so long ago, if you didn't help him. He knew you were close to Escobar and his other right hand men, and he wanted to get from you as much information as posible.

You felt some pity for the man. He seemed a bit desperate, asking someone as you to help him get Escobar. And you felt bad because of how he looked when he named all the people he had lost because of his stupidity and desperation to do so. And you didn't want to be extradited either —death didn't scare you, but going to a jail in the States did.

So you agreed.

You started giving Peña every information he asked from you. You told him everything Escobar and his family and men did, everywhere they went, all of their plans... You gave him all the information you had access to, which was basically all of it. And after some time of being his informant, you saw how much danger you were putting yourself at. Way too much danger to risk your life just for the money Peña gave you in exchange for all the information.

That's how you realized you weren't just doing it for the money anymore. You were doing it for him.

And it was weird. It hurt.

You met him every free night you had to update him about everything going on. And that's just how it worked: you met, you gave him the information, and he headed off to get more of whatever other intel he could gather from someone else, who were usually sluts from some fancy brothel he liked. Seeing him going to see and fuck one of those sluts he called informants made you jealous, something you couldn't believe.

It kept going like that for a while, though soon, Quica and Limón started to suspect. You weren't as close to them as you had been before the night you talked with Peña. You kept telling them it was fine, that there was nothing wrong and you were just having a bunch of bad days. And it seemed to work.

Until one day, Escobar called you so he could have a private chat with you.

He said Quica and Limón had told him about you being off, not present, and distant with them. He said you were not focused on your job anymore. And he said that you were taking many breaks to go to the bathroom, and way too many free nights. Unfortunately for you, he was joking when he said he blamed it on some girl you were spending time with.

And then, he threatened you.

It was official. Your life was in serious danger. Your own boss had threatened you.

That night you went home shitting your pants. For the first time in the many years you had been working in the drug business, you were scared. And it was all his fault.

You pulled your phone out and messaged him, telling him you needed to see him and talk to him immediately. He showed up in your house shortly after, giving you a hurried "Is everythin' okay?".

"We have a problem. I have a problem and if we don't do something, so do you", you looked at him with a mix of anger and fear.

"Okay, okay, calm down. What's wrong?"

"Quica and Limón know. Escobar knows. And he said he'd kill me if I don't go watching my back from now on", you saw him looking at the ground with a slight frown on his brow, as if he was thinking of what to do.

"Alright, we do have a problem", was all he said.

"You gotta fucking help me, Peña".

"Fine, uh...", he thought for a couple of seconds. And for a moment, it seemed like he had an idea. "If you can wait a couple days, I'll get you a passport to the States or somethin'—".

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'll be dead before you can get the passport. And he'll have men in the States to kill me when I get there anyway. I can't go back", you sighed, trying to find a solution for yourself.

"Stay at my place, or Steve's. His wife can help you. We'll protect you".

"Oh, will you? 'Cause really, I love the way you've been protecting me as your informant. You've protected me so fucking well that my boss found out about me and even my own friends want to end my life now", you spat at him. "So yeah, you've been doing a great shit job at protecting me, Javier".

That moment, your world seemed to stop. Peña looked at you with a mix of anger and shock —though it seemed more angry than anything else. It was then that you realized that you had, for the first time, called him by his name.

"Peña", he said with a stern expression.

"Really? After all this, you're mad that I use your name?", you sighed. You were actually nervous —even scared— about what would happen now, since he seemed more serious and angry than anything you had ever seen on him. "Look, just—".

"You don't get to call me that. What made you think you could?", he gave you another hard look.

"I don't know, it just came out—".

"You don't get to call me that".

He stood looking at you with his eyes burning with anger. You had never been so afraid of how someone looked at you —not even with Escobar— until that very moment. And you were even more afraid knowing that it was Javier Peña.

"I'm sorry", was all you said, trying to match his seriousness. "I didn't think you'd be this mad".

He walked up to you all silent and still looking angry as hell. Your heart was beating pretty fast at the sight of how he towered over you, making you feel weak at the knees.

"No way", he smiled sarcastically. "I'm gonna tell you somethin' and I need you to pay attention, boy", you gulped at his words, scared of what he would say. "You're not one of those whores I fuck to get info from. You're doin' this for money, and I'm doin' this to save the goddamn country. You wanna fuck a big man, go get him yourself at a brothel, I'm sure you'll find one that wants to stick his dick inside a little boy like you".

That crossed your limits. Your blood started to boil, and you heart was beating so fast you'd swear you felt it break at that very instant.

As you watched him walking to your door, you turned around to face him and gave him an even harder look than the one he was giving you before.

"So the great fuckboy Javier Peña leaves once again, heading off to one of his brothels to fuck whatever slut he can find tonight!", you said with an exaggerated, dramatic tone. "You know, it's so fucking sad seeing how you stick to one night stands because you're afraid to start feeling something. And it's sad that you're pushing away the only person that will probably be the only one to feel something for you that's not desperation to get fucked by you, just because you're not into boys", you spat out, being at the very verge of tears. "So go on, have another night of fun with a girl that's gonna fucking pretend she wants you just for your money and your big boy dick, while the only person that actually wants to be with you cries because you broke their fucking heart!".

When you finally got to breathe again, you came to realize just how much you were crying. And meanwhile, Peña was looking at you with his emotionless expression.

"I'll try to get you that passport as soon as possible", were the words he ended the silence with, and then he left.

The weight of your conversation hung in the air for the rest of the night. It was something you weren't going to forget easily. Of course you had imagined something like this would happen if you talked with Peña about your feelings for him, but you didn't expect him to be so rude and hard. Though, thinking about it, that was right what you would expect from anyone else. At the end of the day, you were a man that had fallen for another man, in the 80s.

You just were so dumb to think that Peña was different, that you could've had a chance. But of course, you didn't. And you didn't know why —knowing it was this way for everyone else—, it had hurt you that much.

And so, there you were, curled up in your bed as you cried to the thought of him silently, letting your pillow muffle your quiet sobs and get soaked by your non-stopping stream of tears. That night again, you thought of how much you hated Peña for being so heartless, so selfish. And so brave, so handsome, so hot, so perfect, so... Peña.

And you thought about how much you hated yourself for having helped this man, knowing that all he gave you in return was a broken heart and some money you didn't want. You knew he was a dangerous man, but damn, had you fallen hard for him. And damn, did you hate yourself for it.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep thinking about all this. You wished you hadn't moved to Colombia. You wished you didn't have anything to do with drugs or the cartel. You wished you didn't know Javier Peña. And you wished you weren't so in love with him.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗

Summary: Your House is finally ready to negotiate. Aemond have to make it work if he is to finally have what he desires the most: You.

Warning: Smut, angst Masterlist (Part 18 - Part 20)

You smelled really nice, and Aemond would never be tired of how good you felt against him.

Even though he could not see your face he knew that you were still asleep, your slow breathing making your chest raise up and down against his hand resting on your belly. You were warm, and as he pulled himself out of slumber he could not help but kiss your bare neck softly, tracing his mouth from under your ear to your shoulders.

It did not wake you right away but you shifted a little at the touch, feeling Aemond’s hair tickling your skin. Your eyes blinked as you opened them and you reached for his hand on your stomach, humming in contentment. You felt him smile against you as he kept on kissing you, his breath caressing your skin.

“Good morning,” you said in a sleepy voice.

He only hummed in response, apparently too busy to give you an answer. You tried to turn around in order to enjoy it your way too, but your movement caused you to collide with his manhood and how hard it was, making you halt.

“Aemond-” you warned, unsure of what to do.

He only stopped to bury his nose into the crook on your neck, one of his hands resting on your waist. “What? Do not tell me you never felt it before,” he taunted as he continued to kiss the bruises he had given you yesterday.

To be fair, it wasn’t surprising. He often woke up like this, it was only natural. After pleasuring you right before sleep the night before, his state was to be expected. Now it was simply a matter of if he would do something about it.

Your cheeks turned hot, his mouth and tongue on you not helping the rest of your body to remain still, but you turned your head to meet his mouth nonetheless, enjoying how hungry his lips felt on yours.

“Let me take you,” he breathed. “Right now.”

You agreed, nodding as his hand descended between your thighs to find it already ready for him, his work from last night helpful. He inhaled sharply as you felt him press against your entrance, and as he took you fully, you both moaned loudly.

It was slow, deliciously good and even sweet, as he was holding one of your thighs with his arm as the other roamed against your chest. Aemond could not keep his mouth away from you for a second as he thrust into you, rendering you breathless. You lost track of time until both your bodies went limp, panting and enjoying the sensation you gave each other.

You thought that this sort of morning activity could easily become your favourite thing.

Aemond would fill you in on the situation of the civil war often, mostly because he would be so angry about how it was going that he needed to say it out loud.

The Blacks were slowly gaining more support as the days passed, their armies were marching against the Green’s allies, the latter losing Duskendale days ago, the Bay slowly becoming blacker. The Hightowers armies, one of the most numerous the Green possessed, were regularly attacked in the strongholds from the Reach to the Crownlands and most of the time eradicated, preventing them from aiding King’s Landing if ever it was attacked. Aemond thought it a miracle that Lord Ormund and Lord Redwyne had managed to travel to the city alongside part of their men without being ambushed, but at least separating their armies had had an advantage on protecting the Crown.

In the West, the Greyjoys were sacking the coast and taking castles, claiming them as their own. Tyland Lannister’s twin, the Lord of Casterly Rock, was struggling to maintain order and could not focus entirely on the struggle for the Riverlands, rendering the Brackens as sole opponent against the marching northern armies.

What unnerved him the most was the fact that only two of their dragons were used in battle, Helaena being not fit to fight and Daeron riding Tessarion only when Vhagar could for safety. Although you knew Aemond cared for his little brother, keeping him close even if they had not been raised together. Daeron had been sent away to Oldtown when you were both children and you had good memories of him.

Aemond even joked once about finding you a dragon to ride, saying that your wit and courage would outsmart everyone on the battlefield as no one would expect you. But as he had said that something dark flashed in his eye and he had stopped talking at once, his mood shifting into a sour one that lasted for the rest of the day. He never talked about you flying into battle again.

One day he had gone before the sun was up, flying off with Vhagar along with his brother. Apparently, Cole had suffered an attack in his defence of Tumbleton, and thanks to the closeness of the place words had reached King’s Landing fast enough for Aemond to act. He could not let the enemy draw so close to the capital when the bay was barely holding.

It was the same day that you finally received what you had wished for. A missive from Denys Vance has arrived and Alicent had been thoughtful enough to come and talk to you about it herself.

House Lydden would be ready to negotiate if the Crown proved that you were safe and sound. Alicent seemed surprised when you talked about travelling to Deep Den at once, certainly not willing to let such an asset like you escape them when your father had nothing to offer. You told her that you would advocate for the Greens, that you going there would not make your father demand more, but she remained unconvinced as she left you to attend her business.

When Aemond returned, unharmed and well, as his brother, you shared with him the news, making him arch a brow as he listened to you. He apparently went straight to you upon his arrival, not taking the time to meet with his mother to speak about anything. He considered the news as he read the parchment.

“We will go. As soon as things are settled, we will go. I cannot leave the city with only Tessarion to protect it when the Blacks are getting ever closer.”

“You don’t have to come. I will go and make him see reason. I know he will listen to me,” you replied, confident.

“This is out of the question,” he said, tone definite.

“Aemond, Deep Den is a too easily defensible stronghold, it could take months before House Vance manages to enter inside and you need the men! The sooner I do this, the better.”

He sighed, looking at you, pondering. You were right. “You will not go on your own. We’ll leave under two days, with the utmost secrecy. No one outside the castle can know that I left.”

So you waited until nightfall before taking a seat on Vhagar, in front of Aemond, and taking off under the moonlight, making your way across the Reach and towards the Westerlands. Aemond took care in flying high, not wishing to be spotted as the Blacks were spread from Pinkmaiden to Tumbleton.

The sun had barely risen when you landed on a hill near the castle you were born in. You could see on the neighbouring hill within which the halls of your ancestors were built the few towers of cobblestone rising high above the mountain amidst the fog, unattainable.

There was a reason Deep Den was called as such. The stronghold has been built directly into the mountain, advancing further into the stone through a massive gate that guarded the entrance. The only visible buildings were the towers that harboured the halls of your forefathers and the main courtyards.

The gate represented the only entrance to the castle, protected by surveillance fortifications and a long bridge under which a stream flowed from the great waterfall coming down the hills.

Aemond gazed at the Vances’ green and black tents below, settled at the rim of the stream that circled all of Deep Den’s mountains. He did not make any movement to dismount Vhagar, observing the sea of men that was now gathering to see if the huge dragon was not only a mirage caused by the fog. You put a reassuring hand on his arm as he broke out of his trance, looking at you with a slightly wide eye. Then he helped you dismount and you both made your way down the hill.

The men looked tired, gloomy, obviously unhappy to lay siege to such a fortress without being able to make any strategic move to unlock the situation, Aemond’s order not to harm anyone quite clear. Besides, their reassignment from Duskendale had been a hard blow on them.

The men who had dared to go out of their tents to look at Vhagar perched on the hill were now watching the Prince walk across the camp at your side, certainly surprised to see a woman in this place alongside with their Regent.

Aemond had put his hand on the small of your back as you advanced toward the bigger tent, a soldier having already announced your arrival to his Lord. Dennys Vance looked proud and delighted to see you both as he exited his tent to greet the newcomers, surely relieved that this status quo would finally be put into motion. He invited Aemond and yourself in, offering you something to drink as he took his place on the table where bottles of ink and yellow parchments were placed in a mess.

He only talked to Aemond as he inquired about the plan, asking what terms the Crown was ready to accept for the negotiation. Aemond was rather quiet, only answering with simple phrases, his eye never tiring as he stared at Denys Vance coldly. You, standing up at his side, said nothing as you looked around in impatience, listening to the two men say that parlay would be necessary before agreeing to anything, Lord Vance insisting on the fact that your father had no leverage and had nothing to offer. Aemond stayed silent as he replied nothing to that statement, when another man entered the tent.

Addam Vance was wearing his suit of armour, holding his helm at his side, face a little reddened by the coldness of the morning weather as his eyes landed on you, bowing graciously before making his way towards his father.

Aemond slowly rose up to mirror Addam, placing his hand upon the table to tower it. Of the three men, Aemond was the tallest, and his presence was intimidating right now.

Addam greeted Aemond with respect and settled to listen to the end of the conversation before Aemond spoke, putting an end to the talks. “We will request a meeting with Lord Lydden. I will lead the negotiations and this will be over before noon.”

Lord Vance nodded and Aemond turned to leave, but you softly grabbed his arm. “Aemond let me talk to him alone, he will heed me, it would be easier.”

“No Y/N. I will not risk it,” he flatly said, dragging you along with him outside.

You tried to argue but once in the fresh air you saw Vhagar circle around the towers of the Den and you paused. If your family did not see the Prince arrive, they would now know of his presence, and you feared that panic would take them. You ought to talk to them first, to be part of this no matter what.

“My Lady, this is unwise,” you heard Addam say as he caught up with you, having not missed your conversation with Aemond. “Your father would surely try to keep you and you would find yourself starving under the month. We want to spare you from that fate.”

Aemond was staring daggers at him, clearly irritated by the interruption and you thought that he would strangle him right here and there to have dared talk to you in his presence. But he simply coldly ignored him and took you by the waist protectively, dragging you further toward the stone gate.

You had no time to even throw a sorry look at Addam before a voice was heard high up above the doors, on the ledge of the guard-tour carved into the cliff. A Lydden soldier you did not recognise yelled his wish for Aemond to come forward as his dragon was now threatening them. Aemond let go of you and advanced into view.

“We are ready to negotiate. Send Lord Donnel and we shall speak terms, or my dragon will take care of you.”

You widened your eyes in shock as you looked at Aemond’s back, gazing up at the soldier who disappeared behind the stony fortification. Still you said nothing.

Then someone else appeared, and you recognised your father. Your heart jumped in your chest as you took several hesitating steps toward the bridge.

“As you can see, Lady Lydden is unharmed.” Aemond stated as he heard you approach. “And she will remain this way if you bend the knee. I will show mercy for your betrayal.” Aemond said, his menacing tone resonating throughout the valley.

Silence fell again as every man held their breath, the sound of the waterfall deafening into your ears.

“I wish to speak to her, alone,” your father demanded.

“I will not happen, you will come down and we will talk terms.”

You rushed to his side, taking hold of his arm. “Aemond, let me do this," you said as he looked down to you. “He will not listen otherwise, trust me.”

“I will burn the castle to the ground before I let you go in there. Your father is smart, and I don’t trust him. He will not let you leave this place again. He loves you too much and hates me the same amount.”

“Then trust me .” You put his hand in yours, your eyes pleading. “I promise you I will not fail you, I will come out, whatever it takes. I will convince him, you know I will. Please.”

He watched you for a very long time, looking like he believed you had turned mad. But his gaze landed on your hand, lovingly enveloping his and he sighed.

“I will allow it. But Y/N, if anything happens, if you don’t come back, I will not hesitate.” His dead serious look made you shudder as he turned toward the gate once again and shouted. “I will grant you an audience with your daughter, but I require an exchange. The little lord against her.”

Your heart fell in your chest as you realised Aemond’s game. He had asked for the only male heir, a boy to exit the safety of the castle and into the arms of the enemy. Your brother.

You understood Aemond’s move, you could not step back now.

Your father silently considered it, he was far but you could see how outraged he was. But after a while, he did agree. Lord Lydden would have to trust that Aemond’s affection for you was real.

The gates opened and your brother came out. He was not shaking, a boy barely over ten years of age brave enough to face the Kinslayer as his sister would take his place. As he walked down the bridge you looked up at Aemond, asking for permission to go. He was looking at you with imperceptible hesitation in his eye, unwilling to let you go. You gently squeezed his hand as you made your way toward your brother, feeling his fingers clutching onto you before finally letting you go, his jaw clenching as you walked away from him.

You hugged your brother briefly as you passed by him, promising that everything will be over soon, that he will come back in a few minutes times.

You then watched him go to Aemond who had not moved as he looked straight at you, barely casting a glance at Amory as he was taken away by Addam. So you made your way towards the black gate as Vhagar growled loudly in the sky.

Your father was waiting for you at the foot of the large stairs that led to the halls of Deep Den. As the soldier closed the door behind you Lord Donnel went to hug you tightly, relieved to finally see you.

You reciprocated the affection, glad to see that his exhaustion was not showing as much as you expected a besieged man to be, and as he asked you if you were well treated, you tried not to notice how watery his eyes were, reflecting yours.

He led you to a secluded room to talk more privately, the topic of Sandstone and your missed marriage were quickly approached and put aside, your Lord Father angrily dismissing the fact that the rumours about Aemond kidnapping you were true. You then tried to expose the current situation to him as clearly as possible.

“Father, as much as this castle can resist, you cannot hold like this forever, you will be lacking sooner than you expect! You must pledge to Aegon, think of Amory. Think of mother,” you pleaded, seeing your father cold demeanour surface again.

“I won’t. This negotiation will not go as the Prince wishes. I have found a way.”

“What way? There is nothing to do. I know you have tried, but you have underestimated them, as did I. They will not rest until you declare for the Greens.”

“My child, we only need to be patient. The Greyjoys are taking as theirs many holds of the coast, and the Blacks are advancing on the lands. We will wait for them to arrive. Soon the Greens will have no use of their men here and they will depart. We have nothing to offer them that would be valuable to their eyes.”

“It will not be enough, I won’t stand for this to be enough. Even if you did not declare for Rhaenyra officially, Aegon is not blind. Otto is not blind.”

“Rhaenyra and Daemon know where my heart truly lies. They will remember it in time.”

“They are not coming father. The Blacks are not coming to save you, surely you realise this!” you yelled now. “The Greyjoys are miles from here, and the Lannisters are strongly holding the land. All of the Blacks’ eyes are turned toward King’s Landing, and you know it. They will not come for you.”

He looked at you, his eye twitching, within it a mix of irritation and sadness.

“The way I see it, dear daughter, is that the demise of our House is due to the actions of one man only. The one who stands before our gate at this very moment, the one who holds you captive, and as of now, your brother," he said loudly. “If not for him, you would be safe, in Dorne. If not for him, I would not be forced to choose between the sake of my House, or the life of my daughter.”

His words were severely true, and you could not do otherwise but take a moment to come up with a retort. 

“Father, this is this very man who had saved you from the very first day, convincing you to not declare for Rhaenyra as Otto would have had your head. This is this man who is right now sparing this very castle, and sparing all of our lives when he could just order his dragon to put an end to our legacy in one blow.”

You paused, taking a breath, your father’s face draining of all colours. “I cannot atone for everything he has done,” you continued, lips trembling. “But you must hear me when I tell you to negotiate. I will go back to court with him, and I will vouch for you. I will guarantee your safety and that you are to be let in peace, but you must accept the terms. You must accept what Aemond is offering you.”

Your father looked at you with pity, taking your hand. “This is exactly what I don’t want, Y/N. You cannot go back with him. You don’t have to obey him, to indulge him. You can free yourself from him.” he pleaded, but you only felt sorrow take hold of you.

“No I cannot,” you said, your eyes filling with tears. “I cannot because I love him.”

It was the first time that you had admitted it. Thought it, even.

Saying it out loud made you feel so lost, but at the same time so relieved that you began to shake, your emotions pouring down inside your chest and overwhelming you.

Tears rolled down on your cheek as your father watched you, disconcerted at your words but soon he was embracing you.

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” he spoke as he hugged you tightly, caressing your hair affectionately. As you wept you realised that your love had been there for a very long time, battling against yourself to come out. Now you allowed it to be free, and it hurt.

Still in your father’s arms you told him how sorry you were, how you wished things had been different, but that you know that it will be alright for you. You just knew because Aemond would be there.

“But does he love you as well?” he asked.

Lord Donnel already knew the answer. No man would ever act like Aemond had if love was not involved. He had known this for a while now, only dreading it, fearing for you. You wiped your tears as he broke the embrace to look at you.

“I-, I don’t know. Maybe, he never really said,” you stuttered as you dismissed the possibility of your love not being reciprocated.

Your father stared at you at length, then he nodded to himself, agreeing with his own thoughts. However, he said nothing else.

“Please, father…”

“Tell me,” Donnel said after a while. “Do you find Aegon legitimate?”

You paused, thinking about it.

“He is not fit to rule, we all know it. Nonetheless he will prevail. His family will make sure of it.”

Determined, you now looked at your father with hope before asking:

“So, what will you do?”

Aemond was pacing at the edge of the stone bridge, unable to steel himself. Now and then he would glance at the high fortifications your father had appeared in, but only a thin-looking soldier was staring back at him.

He thought himself close to madness before the gates opened and he sighted you beside your father. You made a few steps before stopping, your father demanding his son to return.

Amory came out from behind him and traced his step back, entering the castle as you spoke to him once more and reached Aemond on the bridge. He managed to remain as unaffectionate toward you as he could, hands laced between his back as he arched a brow at you, silently inquiring about what you have learnt, hiding his glee at your return.

“He accepts to negotiate, and I already know of his terms,” you announced as you saw both Vances come closer. “First he accepts to grant you half of his forces to fight, for he knows that you need them.”

Aemond’s brow went higher. “He is offering me his feeble troops? As few as they are, they will never accept to follow me.”

“They won’t have to follow you,” you replied mysteriously, and you saw Addam and his father exchange a confused look. “Secondly, he refuses to answer for his actions before the court, as he deems that he did nothing wrong. He asks to remain here, and be let at peace, his legacy and honour intact.”

Aemond clicked his tongue in annoyance, an angry glare passing through his eye. “He is a fool if he believes-”

“And he wants to talk to you,” you interrupted.

Aemond stopped talking, looking at you appalled. He narrowed his eye before glancing at the gates, still open, Lord Donnel, standing with his hands behind his back, staring at him from across the bridge.

You followed his gaze before nodding to him.

After a pause, Aemond hummed and made his way to the gate.

Aemond had always admired your father. He had the mind of the best of thinkers, and was a brilliant strategist. The only explanation he would find at his late desperate and foolish attempts to make a stand was his love for you, and his will to keep you safe. He liked that in him, even if it impeded Aemond himself. When he talked, he could see the eloquence and the wits he found in you .

But you did not have his eyes, Aemond thought as he was now levelling with Lord Donnel Lydden in the middle of the bridge, staring at each other as if in a staring contest. As he advanced, Aemond was the first to talk, his voice covered by the loud noise of the waterfall, preventing anyone but both men to hear what was said.

“I see you did not wait for me to negotiate the terms of your surrender," Aemond spoke coolly.

“My daughter is perfectly capable of conducting negotiations herself.”

“I know she is.”

A knowing look passed between the two men, a silent understanding.

“You, my Prince, have been the main obstacle to any of my efforts,” began Donnel. “Constantly interfering with my family’s business, and do not believe that I don’t know the reason for these interferences.”

Aemond was confused, however he let nothing appear. “The only efforts you ever made of late was against my family, even if only planned. You are bold to assume that I will take less than all of your men.”

“But you cannot take my honour my Prince, can you not? Because you wish to take something else from me.”

Aemond clenched his jaw in impatience. He was not playing this game. He would have answers. “Tell me what you mean by that, Lord, for I very much would like to know why your honour would be safe from me, when you have already dishonoured yourself in betrayal.”

“Because you cannot wed a Lady from a fallen family. It would not be accepted by the Crown. Or even you, I would guess.”

Aemond froze. Lord Donnel was indeed a smart man, and a fine thinker to be sure. Aemond did not expect him to see things so clearly, and yet, his words hit him hard, more than Aemond had thought they would.

It was true. The only thing that had stopped him from marrying you as soon as he brought you back from Sandstone was the awful choice your father had made of departing without a word, making him a traitor. After that, Aemond had been so angered at the Lord for rendering his wish more difficult than he had sent House Vance to punish him. But it had not relieved him in any way. He would make you a woman worthy of being a Queen, he would not let you suffer the dishonour of your family. He would not be the cause of their death either, and he would put things right, put everything in order, as it should be.

“If you wish it, and I believe you do, I will grant you her hand,” Lord Donnel continued, making Aemond’s heart beat faster despite himself. “But I want guarantees. Guarantees that we will be left in peace. Guarantees that she will come into no harm and that you would do anything to protect her. And I want your promise that she will be allowed to visit her home whenever she wants.”

Aemond was not easily taken by surprise, and Lord Lydden had just managed that. Staring at him with intensity, Aemond considered insulting him, telling him that he did not need his approval to marry you, that he would have done so nonetheless, his desire stronger than anything else. But he only narrowed his eye warily at him, pondering his terms with interest.

“You have my word,” he finally stated, words poised.

Lord Lydden took a sharp breath in relief and agreement, his eye briefly darting at your form over the bridge, then he extended a hand to Aemond to shake, and both men came to an understanding.

“I expect your men to be gone tonight. As for mine, Y/N will be leading them to King’s Landing as soon as you fulfil that last demand.”

Aemond did not have time to process what he heard before Lord Lydden disappeared behind the thick black door of the Den. Vhagar landed on a close hill with a thud, finally resting.

-0- Part 20

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs @bietchz @samnblack @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal @polireader @zillahvathek @moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749

[thr4shit]

hello, and welcome back to:

Things my brain keeps screaming at me! pt. 2

My brain was especially scream-y and aggressively off track today so some of these might be all over the place, but...

HenPat edition

(for all my fellow HenPat friends)

TV watching is a very common occurrence in their dates (they typically watch at Patrick's place)

They both enjoy watching horror movies, and love seeing each other get a little startled because it means they get to cuddle closer to each other (also gives them an excuse to either comfort or tease each other). This is also a preferred activity because it helps them distance themselves from any possibly shitty things happening that day.

(action, dystopian and some romantic comedy movies are also on the menu, and their dates are complete with a side order of sitcoms)

Patrick is very possessive/protective of Henry

I don't mean in the "stalker" way, he can get that way, but he will be like a "guard-dog" around Henry. Essentially trying to keep people from messing with him, due to (in the sense of my Henry having internalized homophobia hc) I also think Patrick would have a similar situation (but Patrick would be less affected by it, essentially being like "no, f you, I'm not going to conform") So, when he and Henry become more public about their relationship, he began worrying about Henry not feeling confident enough to actually be himself. Which caused him to become very wary about Henry going places by himself (not wanting him to sort of go back in the closet because of people showing hatred towards him again).

Henry is big on cuddling (little spoon)

He will never admit it but he likes the physical and emotional stability it gives him. He will go out of his way to cuddle up against Patrick when they're alone, and over time gets more comfortable doing so when they're in public. Patrick eventually catches onto this and will jokingly begin saying that he's Henry's "chair" and will playfully refuse to let Henry sit anywhere but his lap. Patrick is also very fond of cuddling, and appreciates when Henry lets him do it.

They like to 'mark' each other

These are often in the form of hickeys or marker "tattoos"

Patrick: The hickeys are always hidden so Henry doesn't have the possibility of getting in trouble at home, but the marker tattoos are not. Those are out on his arms by Patrick so that if he is not around to 'protect' Henry, people know that Henry in a sense 'belongs' to Patrick and trying to hurt him emotionally or physically will incur Patrick's wrath and possible retaliation. While it is for 'protection', Patrick prefers the hickies.

Henry:

This is often to a less extreme extent, and only begins later in the relationship

Henry marks him because he is to an extent afraid of losing Patrick, this is because he's Henry's first genuine relationship, so as they get closer and closer he gets more (I don't wanna say clingy, cause it's not 'clingy' it's more of "nope, you're mine now, bitch") focused on making sure people know Patrick is his. So he starts putting his own marker tattoos on Patrick and giving him hickeys. While it is out of relationship anxiety, Henry prefers the marker tattooing.

Inside them, there are two wolves...

On the first hand, they're absolute MENACES to the town in general because.. well, it's Henry and Patrick. But on the other hand, they're such godfathers to all the little egg(boy)s of Derry. They're the closest thing the other queer men/boys of Derry have to community role models, and... oh boy.

They both somehow "wear the pants"

Both Henry and Patrick are oddly dominant, and refuse to fully submit to each other so they're stuck in a weird cycle of "I'm in charge" "bitch, no you're not" and it is both funny and incredibly annoying to them (and anyone in their general vicinity).

Messy Drama Bitch x Conservative Drama Bitch

Patrick is all about being in people's faces while Henry is a bit more reserved about it, not going out of his way to talk about his relationship. Patrick is very focused on trying to force people to realize that their kind of relationship is just as normal as any other, while Henry focuses on his personal enjoyment and safety (but can still be a drama bitch if someone gets in his way).

[beautifulskinnysoul]

This is a long post and I’m sorry for the grammar errors.

I never normally do this but i decided to start stepping out of my comfort zone and find others who are in the same point of life as me. I want to share my experiences and who I am on the inside.

I’m 20 years old and have had an ed for a large chunk of my life, at least 7-8 years. I think it started mostly because of the activities I was involved in. I was a competitive dance who wore very small costumes, I was praised for how little I was. I also did pageants. Now there pageants made it clear that they were not “beauty pageants”, but come on all pageants are based on beauty. I learned early on that skinny is beautiful.

I didn’t have many friends growing up, a few good ones but most of them, I wanted them to be my friends they were really not interested. I was excluded. High school started and I needed to look good everyday and I decided then that I will always stay under 130 lbs. I was known as the very skinny girl. People would comment about how thin I looked and that I looked sick but this is what I want to hear. I want to be scary thin where people ask you if you’re okay.

Fast forwarding and skipping over most of what happened over the years because of manipulation and abusive men that took over my life. I was taken advantage of by men years older than me because they would call me beautiful. At 16, a 19 year old family friend put his hand down my pants and told me to relax and that he knows that I will like what he’s going to do. This is not something I wanted but he was showing me love and it eventually lead to unprotected rape, where he would tell me “why do you always act so scared when you know you’re going to like it”, when I was fighting to hold my tears back. At 17, a 19 year old convince me to run away and I did, I drove across the state to be with him. He had unprotected sex with me when I asked him many times I wanted him to have a condom on. This man manipulated me for roughly 4 years. After countless other emotionally abusive men, I finally started to listen to my heart and I found a pretty fond woman. Now telling my family I’m a lesbian is off the table for a few years yet and my girlfriend is often upset by this fact.

Back to the ed, I would go days without eating. I felt beautiful. I was tired and couldn’t do much but I was so thin, pretty much every bone was visible and I was never bloated because I never ate. With in my girlfriend and I dating for a little over a year now she has, “cured my ed” but I want it back. I noticing my stomach getting bigger, my thighs are being to touch each other. My issue is that I’m on a sport team in college and my coaches were very concerned about me last season because of how sick I was getting. I wasn’t able to participate at time because of fear of me passing out.

With all of this I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do. I want to stop eating completely again and begin to loose this disgusting fat off my body but I need energy to perform for my sport. What do I do? I want to start tracking my weight and what I eat weekly but I need to learn how to hold myself accountable, any advice?

Photo for attention to post