#and most of it has been him being a sweet heart while still being stoic

[ranger-danger]

Y’know since I’ve started reading the crystal shard I don’t get why there’s so much art of Drizzt being moody. He has not acted like that at all yet.

[just-jordie-things]

hold the phone- imagine megumi giving you mind numbing dick that you are so blissed out you don't register his attempts to kiss you so he has to sternly tell you:

"Kiss me back"

While holding your chin with his eyes being a mix of lust and seriousness ahhhhhhhaaa

lets go girls~ smut under the cut obvi

your friends might tease you a bit for your relationship with the stoic, gloomy looking boy. megumi had a natural air of "i don't give a fuck and i mean it" about him... so yeah, you might get some questions about how much passion your relationship could actually have being with a guy like that.

but god.. the things they don't know.

and you won't tell. you like to have your fun... and so does megumi, he just...

your friends only see the surface. how bubbly and charming you are all the time. whether it's stealing his food, planting kisses on his resting bitch face, grabbing at his hand, playing with his hair, you're very affectionate. always finding some excuse to be close and touch him. you're his magnet that he can't turn off (not that he would. he might not show much expression when you're in public, but he'd rather die than have you sit opposite him at a table)

when it's just the two of you, it's like a switch has been flipped. if you don't meet his every gaze and kiss, you're in trouble.

even if you're finding rather hard to keep your eyes open because he's hitting so deep inside you all you see is stars.

"c'mon pretty girl look at me," he mutters, snatching your chin with gentle fingers so you'll stop throwing your head back and give him what he wants. "y'know i like to see those pretty eyes when i make you cum"

you whine- a mix of pleasure and struggle because he knows it's hard for you to follow instruction when you're this fucked out. you've lost count of how many times it's been already- is he crazy? does he think you're conscious enough for this?

but you can't possibly deny him, so you blink your teary eyes open and find him already gazing at you. he's smiling proudly when you finally manage to keep them open.

"there's my girl" megumi coos, and it's not your heart that flutters at his sweet words. your fingers claw at his back for the umpteenth time, reviving the bright red marks that had barely started to heal from the last time.

he keeps his fingers hooked at your chin, knowing it's the only thing keeping you from tossing your head back and denying him his favorite sight again. you're twitching, it's clear that you're fighting the urge, and he's not exactly making it easy for you with the brutal pace he's keeping up with, but you try, for him.

to reward the behavior he leans in to kiss your swollen lips. he's gentle with you, brushing his lips softly over yours, ever so sweet in every way but the way he's fucking you. it's dizzying, really, and maybe that's why you don't kiss him back, but megumi doesn't bother asking why, just demands that you do.

his thumb presses into your chin, not minding the drool dribbling over it as he brings you closer to him again.

"kiss me back" even for a murmur, it's a command that shoots straight to your natural instinct to obey him, and this time when he kisses you there's not an ounce of hesitation to return it.

it's messy, you're still panting and whining, your teeth catch his bottom lip and you're making a mess of saliva between the two of you, but megumi wouldn't complain for even a second. he keeps up with the pace of your messy kisses until he has you coming undone again.

megumi doesn't give a fuck about most things and he means it, but you certainly aren't most things.

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[nikxlaii]

➽ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

☁ Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁Synopsis: He excludes you every time he's with her, and now he's living with the consequences of his actions, weighed down by their heavy toll.

☁ Note: It looks better in my head, lmao. I got back into writing after school ended. Still preparing for 12th grade, I'm scared. Good luck reading this. Let me know how it goes. 06/12/2024

Do you not see me?

You stood in the field of glaze lilies, the soft night breeze gently caressing your skin, a sense of isolation surrounded you. The silence was deafening, save for the voices of the divine beings before you, talking as if you were not there. It was as if they were lost in the charms of the evening, indifferent to your presence.

You knew that going with Morax was a foolish decision the moment you realized that the God of Dust, Guizhong, would also be there. You shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have gone. But your heart would not permit you to resist the urge to spend time with the man you've always loved, even though it may not have been the wisest course of action.

Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you couldn't let the chance of being with him slip through your fingers. Yet as the night wore on, a seed of doubt had started to take root within you, gnawing at your innermost thoughts. You now wish you had the foresight to realize that accompanying Morax wasn't the most commendable choice.

"Here," Guizhong, with a playful glint in her eye, reached down to pluck one of the glaze lilies dotting the ground, a sweet scent filling the evening air. With a sweet smile, she tucked the lily behind Morax's ear. "How nice it looks on you!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with amusement. Morax's eyes softened at Guizhong's sweet gesture as he smiled softly at her, an expression you'd never seen on his face before. It was clear that only Guizhong could bring that soft smile to Morax's stoic face.

You stood there watching them, a silent observer, as they talked to one another. Even what they're talking about is unknown to you, making you feel like nothing more than a passive object in the room. You bore witness to the way the man you loved gazes at her with yearning and adoration—a glance that you wish was aimed at you instead.

The sight was not one to behold, causing a deep and unrelenting pain to well up within the deepest reaches of your emotional being. It was a peculiar feeling that possessed you. It was as if a sense of resentment towards the goddess gradually seeped into your bones, permeating your very essence.

But how can you hate such an innocent god who has never actively done any harm? In particular to you? Nonetheless, deep down you can't help but wish she'd never come into his life. That he had chosen you instead of her, that it was you in his arms, the object of his desire. Yet you know it's a futile dream, for you two are incompatible, you are the god of war while he is the god of contracts, forever parted by the gulf between your natures.

Guizhong, being the epitome of refinement and grace, captivates all who lay eyes on her. Unlike you, the deity of battles, Guizhong was a wise, compassionate, and intelligent god who never harmed a single soul. Conversely, you nevertheless bore the scars of battle on your body. Your skin stained with blood from countless battles. You see why Morax is so captivated by her—she was everything that you weren't.

"Oh, I think it's best I leave for now. Perhaps we can meet another time?" You force the words past your lips, your voice a mixture of hurt and disappointment. You hug your arms tightly to your chest, waiting for a response from either the two of them, only to realize that they don't seem to care about your presence. They're too caught up in their own world, and you're not a part of it. Maybe it's best to leave them be.

That night marked the end of your presence in their lives. It was then that you knew that it was time to move on. You couldn't change the way things were, nor could you force Morax to love you. As difficult as it was, you had to accept that your relationship with him was not meant to be. So, with a heavy heart, you decided to leave, choosing to cut all ties and put the past behind you. It was the only way to find peace and move forward.

-

In a tragic turn of events, the Archon War raged on with no end in sight. The God of Dust lost her life in a fierce battle over the Guili Plains and perished amidst the Glaze Lilies, leaving behind a sea of sorrow in her wake, particularly for Morax. Imagine his grief when he lost her too. He should have known the impending doom that was about to happen, and maybe, just maybe, he would have saved her too. Everything was a massacre.

Despite the passing years, he never ceased his search for you, holding a faint glimmer of hope that you were still alive. Despite giving up his gnosis, his rulership, and the weight of responsibility that he's borne for millennia, his determination to find you remains steadfast. It's as if he's incapable of letting go of the notion that you're still out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps the gnosis is now in the hands of the Fatui and has become their possession. He continues to look for you without ceasing.

Despite the selfish intentions behind his actions, he continued to search for you over and over again. He knew that he was to blame for your departure, as his behavior had led you to leave his life forever. Nevertheless, he persisted in trying to find you, driven by the guilt and regret that had filled his heart. He struggled to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, and the sadness that weighed upon him only continued to grow. All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, he could make amends.

But...

Would he ever see you again?

☁ Note: Zhongli, you selfish man, jkjk, I love you. No hate towards Guizhong! I love her so much. She's so cute. Who do you think is at fault here? Of course, me! for creating this.

[andreawritesit]

can i request cregan and targ reader where he gets her a wolf and its all sweet and stuff ❤️

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader

Synopsis: You had been living in the North for quite a while now but nothing felt quite as welcoming as receiving a warm bundle of joy as a present.

It was not morning yet. Or perhaps it was. Wrapped in the dark grey clouds, the sun often played hide and seek in the Northern skies. It was difficult to tell what time of the day it was. You got out of bed and immediately, the sudden chill enveloped your entire body, down to your bones. Quickly grabbing the fur blanket from the bed, you wrapped it tightly around yourself. The cold was your worst enemy, your soul was forged out of fire after all. Even after an entire month, you still couldn't understand why your mother would betroth you to a Northern lord. You were the same girl on the side of whose bed she had spent countless nights awake. As soon as the weather became colder, you'd catch a fever. Throughout your childhood and even now, in your adolescent years, Rhaenyra has been on her toes constantly because of how the cold affected you. And yet she had sent you to marry Lord Cregan Stark. Why? That's not to say that your betrothed wasn't the most respectable man you had ever met. Cregan was cold and stoic as Northerners tend to be, but he was also honorable and extremely kind to you. As soon as you had arrived at Winterfell on dragonback, he had done all he could to make sure you were comfortable. He made sure you got plenty of warm clothes and furs and despite being the lord of Winterfell, he came to your chambers every day to see if you needed anything.

You had both decided that you would marry only after the war was over. He didn't want to tie you to himself knowing very well that he could die in the war and leave you by yourself. And you didn't want to marry him so soon either because you still wanted to partake in your mother's efforts to get her throne back from the usurpers.

You walked to the window and looked outside. Everything was covered in pristine white snow. It was so different from Dragonstone and Kings Landing. Instead of the hustle and bustle of the South, there was a calming silence in the North. Soon enough, the sun's rays began to pierce through the dense clouds, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered landscape. You couldn't help but smile at the view outside. The tranquility was suddenly broken by a soft knock at the door.

"Come in", you called, walking away from the window.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing the Lord of Winterfell. His tall and imposing figure was contrasted by a warm smile on his face, a sight you had come to cherish over the past month.

"Good morning Princess. I hope I didn't disturb your rest."

You shook your head, "Not at all, my Lord. I was already up." Your eyes went to a bundle of blankets in his arms. "What brings you here so early?"

Cregan's smile widened as he walked to where you were standing. "I come bearing a gift for you, my Princess." He stepped closer, revealing a small, furry creature nestled in the crook of his arm. "I hope this will make your stay here easier. He's a wonderful companion." He removed the top blanket a little and a small head peeked out.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "A dire wolf pup?" you breathed out as you reached to gently stroke his fur. "He's so precious and small."

"One of the she-wolves gave birth to many pups this morning. When I saw this one, I knew I had to give him to you." The dire wolf pup, with its striking blue eyes and white fur, nuzzled into your touch, eliciting a soft laugh out of you. "Here, hold him", Cregan whispered as he softly passed the pup into your arms. You cradled him close and looked up at Cregan, your heart swelling with affection.

"Thank you. He's perfect."

"Much like you", he said while stroking the pup's head gently.

"Is that why you brought him to me? Because he's perfect like me? Or was there any other reason?"

Cregan let out a small chuckle at your words. "It's one of many reasons I decided to gift this one to you. You see, just minutes after being born, he was already jumping around and causing mayhem in the yard. Reminded me of you and your dragon quite a lot."

You punched his arm lightly and a laugh left your lips. The pup nuzzled your neck and you couldn't help but giggle. Cregan's gaze softened as he watched you bond with the dire wolf. "He's strong and brave, much like you," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "I thought he could be a symbol of the North's acceptance of you."

You felt a rush of gratitude and warmth, not just from the direwolf but from Cregan's thoughtful gesture. He had once again won you over, something that had happened quite a few times already.

"I know it's not easy for you to settle down here in the North. But I'm grateful that you're trying and I promise you, I will take care of you. I will make sure you won't have to miss the warmth of your home. Winterfell will be your abode one day and I hope I will become your family, someone you'll be able to trust and perhaps even love one day."

You shifted the pup into your right arm and held Cregan's hand with your left hand. "You have no idea how much you have already done for me. When I first came here, I was a scared little girl who was being separated from her family but now I feel like I was always meant to be here, with you. I can assure you that I will also do everything I can to be there for you. I am ready, to accept Winterfell as my home and you as my husband."

Cregan's expression softened, and he squeezed your hand lightly. "I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely. "I'm glad you came here."

"Me too."

Suddenly, the pup stirred, letting out a small, contented yawn. You and Cregan both laughed softly. The moment was broken but no less sweet. "I suppose he's tired", Cregan whispered as he covered the pup with a small blanket.

"Have you named him yet, my Lord?"

He shook his head, "No. He's your companion. You should name him."

You took a long look at the white fluffy ball of fur in your arms. "I'll name him Winter," you decided, looking up at Cregan with a smile. "To remind me of the kindness and strength of the North."

"Winter it is, then," he said. "May he bring you joy and protect you always."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you held Winter close. "He already has," you replied, your gaze locked with Cregan's. "Thank you, Cregan."

In that moment, the chill of the North transformed into the warmth of new companionship and a realization that perhaps your feelings for the Northern Lord had evolved into something deeper.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Bound to Apologise

Summary: Aemond upsets his wife and forms a punishment fit for a Prince, feat. subby!Aemond | Word Count: 5.6k | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: subby!Aemond x wife!reader, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a belt as bondage, orgasm denial, breeding kink I guess, Aemond blueballs Targaryen

When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion and when the opportunity should present itself, he has quite the silver tongue. He is a man who is sure of himself in identity, fiercely proud of his Targaryen ancestry, his skills with the sword and his deep and well-founded knowledge of history and philosophy, a fact he rivals smugly against his older brother at any occasion he is able.

 It is not as if Aegon cares much for rivalries of the mind. No, Aegon’s knowledge that is worthy of bragging in his mind is that of the flesh, and he makes sure to flaunt such knowledge in Aemond’s face at any chance.

 That is until Aemond took a wife.

 It had been almost half a year since Aemond was wed to his sweet wife in the Sept. An arranged affair, of course, and the two had scarcely seen one another beforehand, so even now he remembered the way he held his hands behind his back, wound tight with nerves, wondering what kind of person she was. It felt wrong to be tied so intimately and indefinitely to another person without really truly knowing them.

 She had smiled sweetly on that day, kissed him softly once their vows were exchanged, a faint blush at her cheeks while standing before her now husband. The wife of Aemond Targaryen. It felt so final, and she could not help the fluttering in her stomach.

 Aemond on the other hand had barely cracked a smile, simply kissed her, as he was duty-bound to do, and said his vows. She was pretty, yes. But he almost felt bad. What did this woman, illuminated so softly by the warm rays of light, have to gain by marriage to someone she surely found repulsive? Aemond hadn’t missed the various hushed conversations his mother had with Otto, the door cracked slightly ajar.

 He had a reputation amongst the ladies. Some desired him purely for his title and placing their family name on a high podium, their future children into the bargain. Some were repulsed by his fiery temper, those long, hard looks he gave everyone. And perhaps most notably, they were frightened of the One-Eyed Prince, on this moniker alone. ‘Aemond One-Eye would never find a wife’.

 Despite the incident being several years ago, it still raised its ugly head every now and then, in the form of self-consciousness, hushed female whispers and side-glances throughout the Keep. Most Lords and Ladies appreciated his skills from afar, never treading that delicate path in between that would bring them closer to him, which is precisely why it was difficult to even court a woman. Nevermind marriage.

 And yet, when his new wife had looked upon him at their wedding feast, she’d given him a sweet smile, looked deeply into his good eye and showed no signs of repulsion. It confused him for a moment. Was she making a mockery of him? By pretending not to be afraid or repelled by him on purpose? Hiding what she truly felt inside. Holding the bile in her throat at the thought of consummation? He blamed her flush on her face on the two cups of wine she had consumed.

 He was immensely relieved to have been proven wrong.

 Once the chamber doors were closed, she was clearly nervous, as any young maiden would be on her wedding night. With every aching second she removed the pins from her hair, Aemond stood before the fireplace, his heart hammering in his chest with nerves. He didn’t want to have to bare his soul to her. He didn’t know her. And the thought of forcing such a delicate little thing to gaze upon his affliction, watching her face contort into one of disgust, was eating away at his insides, his insecurities feeding on the buzz of the wine.

 She looked so pure and gentle in her off-white, thin chemise, leaving extremely little to the imagination. And with her hair down, waved from the braids, she looked positively mythical.

 Aemond swallowed and began to unclasp his doublet. She must have seen his true feelings beneath his poorly-hidden expression, because she’d stopped before him, a small hand laid delicately on his arm. A silent confirmation, that she was just as nervous as he was.

 “I do not wish to frighten you, my lady”

 Her heart could have broken, but instead it merely shuddered with his words.

 “Do you believe you frighten me?” she asked.

 Aemond’s silence had confirmed it.

 “You are my husband. And I, your wife. You may show me as much of yourself as you deem comfortable and I will not judge”

 Though brief, her comforting words gave him the confidence to consummate their marriage. At first it was clumsy, the way their lips had pressed against one another, and the clamouring at her body, laid entirely bare for him to feast upon. As with any wedding night, there was some discomfort, both for her and him, but for different reasons.

 But he was gentle, which surprised her and elated her in equal measure. And the sting of the loss of the maidenhead gave way to blooming pleasure, alongside something else. Perhaps a closeness that neither of them expected to have after just a few hours of knowing one another. But she hadn’t shied away from him, as he expected her to. On occasion during the act, she held his face so softly he trembled, struggling to fathom that this woman wanted him.

 They had left it only an hour before he was inside her again, where he now found sanctuary in her acceptance of him.

 In the moons that had passed since then, she had been his haven. His escape. She was so good to him, accepting of his desire to take his time in showing himself to her.

 Three moons after their wedding night, he finally pulls off his eyepatch, after a particularly long evening of lovemaking. She was laid next to him, the bed sheets tucked around her chest. Her lips parted when she saw what he’d been hiding underneath his eyepatch all this time, and she felt an undeniable closeness to him that was not there before.

 His scar felt raised beneath the gentleness of her fingers, but it was a look of sheer wonder, watching the way the sapphire that replaced his eye adopted the amber glow of the candles.

 Aemond felt his heart thunder and his cock get hard, when all she asked was for him to fuck her again.

 And he did with a new-found enthusiasm, a warm feeling blossomed in his chest, holding her form beneath him and fucking her relentlessly into the mattress, so hard that the bedframe struggled. He moaned loudly, giving her his seed and praying that it took, so that he could see his precious wife grow round with his child.

 It took him an entire moon to figure out that he not only respected her, but had come to love her.

 His wife, shy and timid perhaps at first, had become rather a force to be reckoned with. Their intimacy with one another had awakened something not only in her, but in him as well. At first, he delighted in having power and dominance over her, being quite a lot taller and broad, which he was wholly proud to have on display in the comfort of their chambers. He loved every little one of her whines and moans, drawing peak after devastating peak from her until she quivered in his touch.

 It had become a nightly routine. Sometimes several times in one night.

 Who would have thought that Aemond Targaryen, every now and then, enjoyed having such power taken away sometimes.

 It had started innocently enough. After so many moons being married and proving their love to one another every night, his sweet wife had sought for some variety and instead had clambered on top of him and sank on his cock, guiding the pace herself. Her hands steadied on his chest for leverage, her backside smacking against his thighs with every rough thrust of herself onto him.

 Alongside the dizzying feeling of watching his cock disappear into her cunt over and over, reaching new places in this new position, he found being held down exhilarating. Dare he say, even pleasurable. It made something wind tight as a bowstring in his gut.

 It seemed like she noticed this, as a lazy smirk graced her face.

 Ever since then they had experimented with that sensation. The feeling of one partner having full control, being held down, even tied sometimes. It was something reserved solely for them, behind their chamber doors. In the morning, when they break their fast with his family, he is once again the stone-faced, stoic Aemond Targaryen.

 Although it does not stop her from shooting knowing grins in his direction on the odd occasion, which makes his cheeks go a very fair pink, the tips of his ears burn and his breeches get inexplicably tighter.

 He enjoys this new side to his wife. It was buried deep, but now that he sees it, it never fails to surprise him.

 Which brings him to this moment. The moment when he knows he has said or done something to irk her.

 Her sister had arrived at the Red Keep alongside her father to visit her for a few days. Unlike his dear wife, her sister was still young and unmarried, and unbearably innocent. As soon as Aegon had laid his eyes on her little sister, his eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he’d seen a shiny new version of his favourite toy, but one that was actually available.

 He wasn’t even deterred by the firm look she’d given him.

 She and her sister walked arm in arm to the main hall, where they would dine all together that evening. Her sister spoke excitedly, happy to be brought to the Red Keep for the first time and to be reunited with her beloved eldest sibling.

 Aemond and Aegon were chatting idly at the table when they’d arrived, her sister went to one side of the table to be sat next to their father. The two brothers, who usually were not so well-acquainted and chatting in such a friendly manner, were so engrossed in their conversation and their cups, that they barely acknowledged her presence.

 All the better that Aemond’s back was to her as well.

 “She is a lovely looking girl, but it is a shame she is so terribly dim-witted” Aegon chuckled, “A family trait, I presume?”

 Aemond, dizzy from the effects of his wine, chuckled.

 “Perhaps”

 She’d bitten her cheek in frustration. Was he so deep in his cups that he actually found Aegon funny? Not only that, but had humoured him in insulting not only her sister’s intelligence, but his own wife’s as well.

 She pulled her chair out beside him loudly, and Aemond went red and jumped in surprise, dread prickled all over his skin. She gave him a mischievous, knowing smile as she sat, “Husband” is all she greeted him with.

 Aegon, who found the entire situation hilarious, had left him with that and as Aemond took his seat next to his wife, straight-backed and instantly sober, he bit his lips several times throughout the evening. She didn’t spare him a single word nor glance, unless he spoke to her directly, in which she forced a pleasant enough smile to her face and gave him one word answers. Playing the pliant little wife, while at the same time letting him know that he would not get off so easily.

 She thought, once, that she may have taken her retribution a bit too far. But it was fun if nothing else, to watch how frustrated Aemond got.

 She did not lay with him that night, nor the night after. Nor the night after that.

 When her sister and father departed King’s Landing, he thought this might be the reprieve. But he was wrong.

 It had been a full week since he had touched his wife intimately, not because he didn’t want to, he’d tried a fair few times. But every time, she had dismissed him with that playful smirk, the same one she had when she’d clambered atop his lap for the first time. And though her outfits and mannerisms remained the same as always, after being denied the pleasure of his flesh to hers for so long, every sway of her hips, every glint of her eyes and every movement of her hands had his breeches pathetically tight.

 She knew what she was doing as well, the little tease.

 He was aching. And it became too much. Not only did she deprive him of her sweet, tight cunny. She barely spoke to him. And the silence and barely-contained need to be inside her, was all too much to bear.

 She was in their chambers, sat before the fire, a large tome open in her lap and when she’d heard the chamber doors shut, her eyes had met that of an extremely pent up husband.

 But instead of greeting him, she bit back a smile and turned back to her book.

 That little-

 “Wife” he greeted through gritted teeth.

 “Husband”

 She didn’t fool him with the sweetness of her voice.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, half-desperate and half-irritated as he crossed the room to sit opposite her.

 “Reading, my love. So that I may grow to have acceptable intelligence”

 His nostrils flare in annoyance, and yet he can’t deny the way she acts has a profound effect on him, after a week of not being able to have her, he’s desperate for anything. Even just the brushing of her hand, he is convinced, would make him spill in his breeches.

 “You know as well as I that is not what I meant”

 She slowly closes the book, righting to stand in front of him, her eyes trickling over his form. She knows him well now. Knows how underneath this cold exterior he offers up to her, is a desperate man underneath, yearning for a taste of her affections. His body sparks up at her hungry eyes over him.

 “Then I do not know what you mean, husband” she replies, barely able to stop the spread of her smile, “You shall have to elaborate”

 His hands form tight fists. She’s right there, ripe for the taking, his sweet wife. How easy would it be to sling her over his shoulder and take her right there on the bed, still dressed in her finery, with her skirts rucked up over her hips.

 “I mean-” he starts, “-you and I have not laid together for the better part of a week”

 She cocks her head, “Oh? Is that so?” she answers sweetly, “Forgive me, I hadn’t noticed”

 He’s stunned into a sort of shocked silence, mouth slightly open, but without the headspace to form a reply. His wife pretended to busy herself with other things, placing the book back and dusting the covers, something she knew would get him riled up.

 “What is this game, wife”

 When she turns to him with that faux-innocence smile on her face, unable to hide how amused she is at how outwardly her husband is showing his frustration, Aemond can feel his limbs go numb.

 “I do not believe you are in any position to accuse me of anything, husband” she counters, crossing the room in deliberately small steps, “In fact, I do believe I am owed an apology of sorts”

 Her brow twitches slightly. She knows. She knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

 As much as he tries to ignore the way her attitude makes his breeches get tighter, all of his blood goes straight below his waistline.

 “But I can see, in your true Targaryen male nature, that you will not apologise…with words that is” she says, a wider smile gracing her face. An almost mischievous one.

 Aemond swallows thickly.

 He clears his throat, blinking a few times at what she just said, “Perhaps…you might enlighten me on how I can make amends”

 Got you.

 “Give me your belt” she instructs.

 It’s borderline pathetic, the speed in which he tries to unbuckle it from his doublet and his fingers fumble with the silver, the embarrassment evident in the way it clinks clumsily. He pulls it through the loops and extends the leather towards his wife. She lets his hand hang there for a moment, as if to extend his internal torment, before she takes it, her fingers slipping over the roughened edges.

 “Take off your clothes, leave your breeches on” her voice is clipped and deadly serious, “then get on the bed”

 She watched from the foot of the bed as he did, twisting the belt in her hands as she regarded him. Saw the way his breath had hitched as she instructed him to do something and the way his pupils swallowed the violet of his eye. He was desperate. And the longer she went without saying or doing anything, the more the excitement and anticipation was starting to build in his core.

 “My dear husband” she says, still fully clothed but clambering onto the bed beside him, “You have wronged me in a manner most unbefitting”

 Her voice was low, the same way it would be when they were alone together, coupling.

 Gently she pulls both his wrists together, tying them first before raising them to the bed frame, sliding the leather through the buckle and pulling his skin flush to it. She pulls on it a few times, to make sure it is secure. Smiling down at him when she confirms he is not able to move.

 His chest moves hurriedly, a warm, fluttering expectancy erupts in his gut.

 “And all you have been able to think about is our coupling, or rather lack of” she smirks, pulling a large pin from her hair so it falls around her shoulders. Looking up at his dear wife from this angle, in this position, will never cease to be thrilling.

 Her small fingers slide under his eyepatch, depositing it on the bedside, so that she may see all of him.

 He would never ever reveal beyond their chambers how he enjoys to see her, eyes half-shut looking down at him, exerting her own version of dominance over him. And he was eternally grateful that she never told a soul either. It would embarrass him beyond measure. He could only stand to be embarrassed in front of her.

 Even though she was very much in charge, she did so in her own feminine way. Used her body differently, her words even.

 He doesn’t think he will ever tire of it.

 “Would you like to fuck me, husband” she asks low, nudging his knees apart so that she can kneel between them. It doesn’t fail to set his blood alight, the way she says such vulgar things…and make it sound so right.

 As her fingers begin to undo his breeches, his hips move and so do his hands against the bed frame. It sets that grin on her face again.

 “Yes, I do…I have missed you”

 Her fingers start to peel his breeches from his hips, exposing the pale skin underneath, and he almost sighs in relief to feel her soft hands on his bare skin.

 She cocks her head, looking at him, “What makes you think I will let you fuck me?”

 A sort of dread…disappointment  pools in his stomach, but alongside that, arousal. He cannot tell if she is serious or merely teasing him, and it is the in-between of not knowing that makes his head feel as if there is cotton stuffed into it instead of thoughts.

 “Fucking is a reward” she starts, “and you have not been good”

 Once his breeches are off, or at least down to his toned thighs, enough where she can see his manhood, aching and swollen against his taut abdomen, hardened from his years of training with the sword. The tip is flushed, the same colour as his lips, with a milky arousal leaking from it. She is sure that with one touch, he could simply come undone, and it makes her smirk wickedly.

 “I will forgive you…on one condition”

 Gods, how badly he wants her to just touch him already. With his cock now exposed to them both, her hands so close, it’s borderline unbearable to be teased like this.

 “Anything, please…”

 A flush blossoms on her cheeks. She always did like it when he begged.

 “You must not peak, until I say”

 Aemond almost goes bright red. This is territory that has not been tread before. And yet, he can’t deny the excitement it sends through him, the way the air is instantly knocked out of his lungs, and how his hands tug slightly against the belt.

 He outright moans as her small hand encircles his cock, giving a few languid pumps, squeezing when she gets to the tip, brushing her thumb over the sensitive slit. Now that she has given her order, her demand, all he can seem to think about is his peak, and how hard he is concentrating to not do it too soon.

 “You seem more sensitive than usual, husband” she coos, her other hand placed on his thigh, only barely squeezing, “have you missed me that much?”

 “Yes…” he responds through slightly gritted teeth, unable to take the breathiness out of his tone.

 “Hm” she hums, dipping her head to his waistline, making him suck in a quiet breath, “Let us see if you can be good then”

 She flatters her tongue against the underside of his length, dragging up achingly slow to the slit, her hand still applying pressure as she makes her way up. When she gets to the slit, her eyes meet her husband's.

 There's that damn smile again.

 Aemond shudders a breath, looking into her eyes while she has his cock on her tongue is only spurring him on, so he shuts his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillows. His hands tug at the belt. Wanting morning more than to just run his fingers through her hair.

 "Look at me" she orders.

 When he does, his jaw slackens, cheeks warm as her hot mouth envelops him entirely. Pushing down to take more of him, her hand strokes whatever else she cannot fit. Aemond watches her take him with every slow bob of her head, pushing his cock against her hot throat, warm, wet and inviting.

 If he is good, he may get something else.

 From this angle, her breasts are dangerously close to spilling from her dress, and he watches them move as she continues to suck him, her tongue curled up to press against the prominent vein on the underside. After a week of not having him, she relishes the taste of him. How he smells faintly of sweat and leather, and how badly she wants more of it.

 She plunges her mouth down further, til her lips are against the base and Aemond moans out loudly. His tip lodges the back of her throat, and while well endowed, she has learned to take him as deep as she can, until she softly gags, tightening her throat around him.

 She is testing him. Seeing how far she can push him as she pleasures him with a renewed vigour, humming around him, sending little jolts of pleasure up his spine.

 It was his biggest weakness, taking him into her mouth. And to be so clearly pleased to do it as well. Merely watching the way his length disappears between her plush lips is nothing short of heavenly.

 He bets her cunny is wet from this alone.

 It very nearly makes him peak, those sparks are there most certainly. Especially the way her throat contracts around him.

 But he holds back the reins. For now.

 She pulls off him with a soft, wet pop, making a show of licking her lips to taste his precum.

 "You are blushing, my love" she says, and he knows even without looking she is smirking again.

 "Please…" he murmurs, "...do not tease me any longer"

 She cocks her head again, pretending to not know what he means.

 "Is my mouth inadequate?"

 He shakes his head quickly, feeling his hair begin to stick to his nape with the effort of holding back his peak.

 "No-no…I just need you"

 "Need what" she grins, moving to straddle him.

 Aemond's eye widens here. Her dress is fanned out, and underneath he feels her bare form pressed against his aching cock.

 The vixen had not had small clothes on this entire time.

 And after using her mouth to pleasure him, she was soaked.

 It was most like her. She always did everything with purpose. Always one step ahead.

 She smiles when she sees it click in his mind and she moves her hips, dragging her slick over his length, making his eye flutter.

 "Say it"

 He swallows, tugging against the belt. He half thinks of requesting to touch her. But he knows she would not allow it.

 "I need to be inside you"

 She raises her eyebrows.

 "Please" he finishes.

 She pulls the front of her dress up, to give him a good view of her wet cunny, spreading her slick over him and he almost moans at just that. It's a sight to behold. The feeling…even more indescribable.

 "My poor, silly husband" she coos, taking his length in her hand, using her palm to coat the entirety with her arousal, "...you came here to say something. Now is the time"

 She raises her hips, his tip not even touching her, but the anticipation of it is too much. Aemond, almost subconsciously, bucks his hips up. Only to be met with her pushing him back down.

 "Stay still" she says firmly, "or you will not fuck me at all"

 His chest moves quickly, clenching his fists, his whole body feeling unbearably hot.

 She waits, with that glint in her eye. She really would do it. She would clamber off him and not fuck him, just for the satisfaction that she knew he wanted her, and that it had been denied.

 "I…apologise…" he mutters quietly.

 She doesn't move.

 "For?"

 He grunts, frustrated. Too busy thinking of him sliding through her folds, nestled in her cunny.

 "For saying such things about you…"

 She tuts, with an amused grin, "We shall test your loyalty, husband. Remember…you need my permission"

 Whatever Aemond was going to say is stuck in his throat as she sinks on him, enveloping him entirely in her slick heat. She does it slowly, so that he might feel every inch of her, every ridge inside. And when her backside sits on his thighs, moving her hips side to side, his tip nudges her sweet spot, the curve of his long, delicious length finding it effortlessly.

 He has to briefly close his eye, not look at her, so that he doesn't get too overwhelmed. After a week of not having her, she feels so perfectly tight, so much so it feels as if her cunt is milking him already. He cannot get too tied up in the feeling, lest he lose her forgiveness.

 The sound he lets out when she begins to move is almost pained, one that feels like it takes all his strength from his muscles.

 He looks up at her, her hair cascading over her shoulders with every shallow thrust inside, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks from the effort of it. He can feel her arousal weeping out of her, coating his length and smacking against the base, that alongside his barely-contained moans.

 Her hands trail up his bare torso and he can feel gooseflesh erupt in the path she leaves. Her soft palms trace the expanse of his chest, and she doesn’t miss the way his stomach muscles tense up as she hastens her pace while she touches him. It’s only when her fingers apply a feather-like touch against his nipples that she finally gets a breathy moan from him.

 It only adds more fuel to her fire.

 Every touch, as small as they are, with how pent up Aemond had been, is hurtling him towards that edge. He can feel every inch of her perfect insides, squeezing him as she nears even herself. His stomach does flips, a familiar flutter getting stronger inside.

 “Please…wife…” she barely manages to say.

 She smiles, her chest moving quickly with the effort of their lovemaking. Her thighs ache in the most wonderful way, her cunt stretching around his girth, the tip kissing her end, filling her so deliciously.

 “Please what”

 “I want to touch you…please” he begs, his fists still tight and pressed against the bed frame.

 He takes a much needed breath when she slows down, merely circling her hips against his pelvis instead.

 “Are you close, my love?” she asks sweetly, leaning up to grasp the belt in one hand.

 Aemond nods, not trusting his own voice, lest it betray the inner turmoil inside. But she sees it. She doesn’t miss a thing.

 She cocks her head, half of her wants to reprimand him for not using his words to reply to her. But the other half feels how his cock throbs inside her, aching for completion, to paint her walls with his spend.

 “Very well” she smirks, undoing his bondage, “but you may only touch me here”

 She guides his now free hands to her clothed hips, keeping hers on top to make it clear how serious she is. Even now, merely touching her, through clothes it doesn't matter, it’s like some kind of torture.

 He grabs her hips tightly and backs himself up against the pillow in a half-sitting position, causing his length to press up inside her, he doesn’t miss the small gasp she emits. She’s close as well, he can tell.

 He fucks up into her with renewed passion, and her head tilts back, her lips parted only slightly to allow her quiet but wanton moans to slip out. Her sounds are like a reward. But he knows he is still denied the greatest one of all. One that seems more and more difficult to hold back the tighter she clenches around him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his wrists. There was something exciting about her being fully clothes while he fucked her. It almost felt forbidden. But exciting all the same.

 He can feel her slowly losing her resolve as he pounds harshly into her, as if he is letting out all his frustrations.

 “-Fuck…Aemond…” she breathes, “-Don’t stop-”

 His breath comes in hurried pants, wanting her to feel good but at the same time holding himself back. He can feel the pressure inside, fit to burst at any moment.

 “My perfect wife…”

 “-Aemond, I’m close-”

 She pulls up the front of her dress, her small slender fingers diving between her legs to apply pressure to her pearl, and she inadvertently tightens around him at the combined pleasure.

 He is not sure if he can last much longer. Forgiveness be damned, he wants to see his spend leak from her.

 “My love, I-”

 She looks down at him, a lazy, fucked-out smile on her face, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead.

 “-Yes, husband…fuck your heir into me…”

 His eye widens at the vulgarity, but his throat tightens at the challenge and he slams so deep inside her with a shocking collection of desperate thrusts. She continues to circle her slick over her bud until the buzz floods into her limbs with a choked cry, her body trembling in the bruising hold he has of her hips.

 He fucks her all the way through it, now that he has been given the permission he so desired, he craves it like hunger. It feels like it takes everything out of him, the wind surely knocked from his lungs, as he finally stills inside her, feeling the warm, familiar flood of his spend deep against her womb, completely emptying himself until he aches.

 Aemond never lets up on his grip, holding her tightly to ensure she has all of it, and he gives a few additional shallow thrusts that make her cry out, hoping his seed will take and she will grow round with child for him. The thought alone makes him want to keep her in their chambers all day if he has to.

 Their eyes meet, the only sound is both of their breathing. Her own eyes flicker from his seeing one, to the sapphire, and a soft, contented smile, not the same mischievous one as earlier, makes its way to her face. It encourages him to do the same.

 “I could stay in your perfect cunt forever…” he breathes, his chest moving steadily.

 She hums a laugh. It is certainly something he would say.

 “Am I forgiven?” he asks, eyebrows moved only slightly, like he is expecting a witty response.

 His wife pretends to think, her fingers touched to her lips. And with his softening cock still nestled inside her, she leans forward to lay a tender kiss on her husband, her delicate, soft lips pressed so gently to his, in a manner that contradicts the sensuality of what they had just done.

 When she breaks, her forehead pressed against his and her hand cupping his face, she wrinkles her nose playfully.

 “I shall think about it”

 When one thinks of Aemond Targaryen, a few descriptors come to mind.

 Stoic, stiff, perhaps brazen on occasion. With not a soft bone in his body.

 Who would have thought, that sometimes, he enjoyed letting that persona slip, just for a moment.

 But only ever with her.

dividers by @firefly-graphics​

General Taglist:  @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Aemond Taglist:  @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes​ @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red​ @bellaisasleep​ @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy

[mrsackermannx]

˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ ❝ COME BACK TO ME…❞

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: gojo’s been plotting to get you back ever since you broke up.

୨୧ word count: 4.7k

୨୧ content: gojo satoru/reader, smut, no-curses au/office au, infidelity, exes to lovers, afab reader, light angst (strategic marriage/ breakup mentions), praise kink, porn with plot, love confession, overstimulation, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc), creampie, pussy-slapping, squirting, sprinkle of degradation, slight exhibitionism.

୨୧ author’s note: gojo brainrot finally gave way to some writing hehe, still getting used to characterising him so feedback is appreciated angels <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

"Don't shit where you eat," they say. They say that dating your colleague is never going to end well. However, even the most stoic people have a penchant for such relationships, not to mention the secret hopeless romantics. 

Workplace romances can make even affairs appear heartwarmingly wholesome. After all, there was something about trudging up stair after stair when the elevator was too full to them smiling at you just a desk away. Their voice fond as they offer you a sunny "Good morning."

That person who never forgets your favourite vending machine coffee, who pats your shoulder and tells you 'you're doing your best,' who lends you their umbrella, who opens up to you over a beer after overtime. Who notices when you get a haircut, whose eyes are seldom on their computer screen but on your lips. 

Not that you'd ever been unfaithful, not yet. But you'd heard countless stories. Girls talk, after all. You didn't judge, yet the point was although workplace romances could be wholesome and even sexually thrilling. They were sensational and exciting until they were over. 

Until that person no longer stays with you through overtime, bitter memories of you chugging vending machine coffee, swapping candy and chips together and then spit just like you and Gojo always did. You definitely never told anyone how many times you fucked on the desks of the colleagues you both thought sucked, especially not after you'd broken up.

You were together for a while, and although you couldn't say it out loud because it was still too painful, you missed him. A lot. In fact, you spent most nights, fist screwed up at your sides, eyes blurring in the darkness, questioning if there would always be that void he left that no one could ever fill.

Though, breaking up didn't cause the type of animosity that made people scurry from rooms when you interacted. Instead, it confused the hell out of your colleagues. It hadn't even been half a year since, and you and Gojo didn't appear to hate each other at all.

But the pain lingering in your heart ached and was annoying and inconvenient, like a stubbed toe that felt sore and tender for weeks and weeks—but in your case, months. However, Gojo was hardly being subtle with his efforts to ever so secretly win you back at every opportunity. He didn't mind playing the long game. He was going to be your last. 

All of you at the company came from important families in high social circles, marriage and dating. Love. It often came down to strategy, which was the only reason you were dating Miyano Haru, a Kyoto University graduate! CEO of a cybersecurity company! 

Guilt gripped at your gut as you yawned at the thought. 

Your families were shooting for a marriage ceremony during next year's cherry blossom season. But until then, Gojo wasn't slamming the brakes anytime soon. 

Whether that be surprising you with your favourite lunches, leaving tickets for movie screenings, galleries, or museums on your desk, or sending Google calendar invites to restaurant reservations or spa appointments via your work emails across the office floor. With sweet messages like,

Gojo Satoru has sent a "Spa day pamper package for two for this Friday.”

Surprise! You look tired this week baby. Let's go here Friday, yeah? 

Ps: You still look pretty, though. 

Just like you were still fucking dating. 

So today, when you're pitching a marketing idea in the monthly meeting, and Yaga cuts you off. Gojo cannot help himself. 

Yaga was a great man, someone Gojo was grateful to for many reasons, but fuck was this man old-fashioned and unaware of it. He refused to see your potential because he was eternally sceptical of the efficacy of women's ideas.

But you had the best ideas today. Gojo smiled because your ideas were always the best and that’s why this decision was so easy. He could fondly recall your rants about Yaga after every monthly meeting where you'd complain about his blatant misogyny; even Sukuna would let a reluctant chuckle loose to the show. 

All of you in the canteen at your table, Shoko, Utahime, Nobara and Maki at your side, growing passionate about gender pay gaps and audacious men at your company and then the world over. 

Nanami always said the right thing, and so did Higuruma, Yuuta and Choso. Gojo decidedly took the credit for Megumi being so eloquent and respectful. Inumaki was outrageous at times, and Yuuji was a lover of all people and argued fiercely for both sides. 

Those times were always fun. 

Yaga peered over his glasses, "Why don't you expand again on how you plan to execute this idea, Reader?” 

With one hand typing idly at his laptop and the other seating his chin, Gojo sighed so loudly all the eyes in the room cast to him. "Reader obviously has the best pitch for this project." 

He grinned as Yaga's knuckles grew white and he humphed before his voice sharpened, "So, are we really gonna make her explain it again?"

"For once, even I agree with him," Toji added.

Gojo winked as he looked up at you, and you felt yourself melt a little, even under the icy breeze of the conference room's AC. 

Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara huddled together under the oppressive communication Gojo and Yaga's eyes were engaging in. 

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, "So, what are you waiting for? Give her the project."

Nanami offered you a small smile and nodded before his expression soured, and he spoke before Yaga could open his mouth to protest. "I, for once, also agree with Gojo. I think we should open this pitch up for a vote?" 

Choso raised his arm, "Me too. I think it's just what we need, in fact." 

Maki nudged Yuuta and Inumaki before confidently booming, "I volunteer our assistance on the project!"

Albeit a little flustered, you bowed and thanked the room as Yaga reluctantly signed the dream project of the company to you. Sure, you were ecstatic you'd finally been recognised for your hard work and dedication, but you wanted to kill Gojo.

What didn't help was the aggressively obvious effect he had on you still. Sure, you had a new boyfriend, but Gojo didn't care. So that's why you found yourself lingering outside of his office door at 9pm because you knew he wouldn't care one bit. Like that man ever did overtime, you tsked. 

Gojo had been playing a game with you, knowing you'd finally relent, that you'd come to your senses and stop denying yourself of what you really fucking wanted. "Be selfish."

Everybody you'd asked today had told you he'd stayed in his office all day. So yeah, he really was doing this on purpose. His light was on, and he was baiting you, and you hated how easy it was for you to take it.

You knew he wanted you to barge in there, all flustered and mouthy, so he could shove you to your knees and fuck your throat open. 

Your boyfriend Miyano was sweet, he could talk about his feelings, and he didn't run away from emotional intimacy like others had. Like Gojo always had. But your family had set you up with him even though your shattered heart was still just that. Shattered. Your heart had been reduced to fragments— to a puzzle that only one genius could solve, he wasn’t prepared to give anybody guidance in the matter either. After all, geniuses couldn’t explain how to do the things they found easy. 

And although you were the one that ended things with Gojo, it hurt all the same. 

There was nothing wrong with Miyano per se. He came from a respectable family, one your family could bear you marrying into; though the Gojo clan would have been amazing, the Miyano clan wasn't terrible either. 

But you never wanted your family to arrange a relationship or marriage for you. You fell for Gojo instantly and hard. You loved him like you never loved anybody else. He thrilled you, challenged you, and made it seem like the world was too small for you both and that you could see it all when you stood at his side. He made everything and every day exciting but had the vexing ability to make you feel safe and at home all the same.

Gojo Satoru was irreplaceable in every facet of the word, in his work, friendships, and relationships. As fickle as he could appear, he was the first to call in a crisis and someone you could wholeheartedly depend on.

But Miyano was sweet and emotionally forthcoming but…entirely too normal. You didn't yearn to peel back his layers one by one and didn't care much for his childhood stories, unpopular opinions, or core principles. But you treasured the few times you’d sat with Gojo, pestering him to tell you anything deeper, anything that no one else knew. Watching with sparkling eyes as his voice grew so quiet you had to follow his lips until your eyes blurred instead. 

But it was rare he shared anything too personal with you. He had trouble with it more than most. Some nights, although you were sleeping in the same bed, you felt miles apart. 

Gojo had a wall with everybody else, like a layer of infinity that meant nobody could really touch him or delve deeper. They only saw and knew the surface that reflected back to them like a mirror. No one could truly ever get close. 

But it wasn't supposed to be the case for you, was it?

A fond and familiar laugh yanked you from your reverie, "Did you come to thank me? Because you can thank me by going to dinner with me tomorrow."

How was he larger than the door frame? You all but scowled as he leant down and tapped his cheek. "I also accept kisses as a form of repayment if you're willing," he said silkily, a jaunty grin on his lips at your expression. “With interest.” 

Your shoulders slumped, and you huffed, wilfully ignoring the growing heat ping-ponging between your bodies. "Why did you do it?" Your brows knotted, "I wanted to get it on my own, Satoru. And my pitch was strong enough. I didn't need your help."

He threw his hands up and yawned obnoxiously, smoothing the back of his hair down, "Well, what can I say? I'm a doer, not a talker."

You huffed, “No, I'm sure you're always talking."

"You got me there, but" he checked either side of the corridor before he looped his arm around your waist and yanked you into his office. “Game over.” 

"Satoru, I-" Your voice fell into a whimper as he flipped you against his door, his lips ghosting your earlobe as he caged you in. 

"Maybe it's because I know you like to hear my voice," he whispered. "I know you like being talked through it. And, I know you didn’t need my help, we just needed a little push.” 

We needed a final straw. 

You swallowed, fists clenched at your sides as his body suffocated yours. Heat quickly crawled up your cheeks as his large hands slid slowly down your sides, the familiar smell of his cologne igniting memories from the last times you smelt it so closely. Kissing down his throat, across his collarbones-

"What are you doing?" You finally mustered, your voice a breathless squeak. Seconds passed, and the tension blazed and kindled, refusing to be extinguished into silence. You didn't dare turn around to see him enjoying you like this.

"Nothing, nothing you don't want me to do," he said in a lilting voice, hitching the hem of your skirt up half an inch. "You've always been so vocal, so I doubt you'd lose your voice in a time like this, would you?"

"No," you hissed, curbing any further speech in case you fucking stammered.

"Don't worry though, baby. You're easy," he scoffed, "and you never stay quiet, not with me.” 

“Oh fuck you.” You gasped as he shoved his knee between your thighs to part them.

“Oh I will. But if that wimpy boyfriend of yours is doing his job, then I shouldn’t find your panties soaked in a minute, should I, princess?" 

A breath passed, and then he hitched it up a little further, resting his chin on your shoulder to taunt you more. "I see the way you look at me, baby. I know you and that look in your eyes. It tells me all I need to know, princess."

His hand caressed your quivering thighs, brushing your stomach and pausing at your chest. He gripped one breast before the other before it settled upon your throat, and he tipped your head back. 

His lips travelled down your temple, to your cheek, and to your neck, where he spoke, "Hm? Ignoring me isn't quite your style. Isn't that why you came here today?”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, and then you knew you were truly fucked. Watching as he pulled away with a grin spreading as slow and molten as melted chocolate. 

"I know you wanna kiss me," he whispered, blue eyes alight when you turned and showed him the blown-out lust glazing your eyes. "There we go, baby, that's it. Gonna kiss me?"

You nodded, already too far gone. His hand cupped the back of your head, and he met you halfway in a slow, sensual kiss. 

Your fronts drew together, and he shimmied up your skirt until it became a corset. Then he cupped your cunt, the pads of his fingers trailing feather light. Your vision hazed, and your fists curled tighter into his shirt. 

Your features were contorted beautifully with lust. "Do not tease me right now." 

He laughed as you scowled, his heart aching. He'd missed you so damn much.

"Oh? Want me to rub your pussy, baby?" he cooed, long fingers smearing the slick oozing through your panties.

"Now I know what you fucking came for,” he groaned breathily into your lips, waiting for your sign to continue. Your panties were the door, and his dumbing teasing movements were tentative little knocks. But he knew you liked to be stripped bare and fucked like you were his. This was just the final round of his game. 

You bucked your hips forward, needing more, needing him. You clung to him, tugging on his tie, "Satoru, Satoru, more, please," you whimpered through his kisses.

"I only satisfy what's mine, but you're not mine anymore, are you, sweet girl? So what can I do? Nothing."

You eagerly shook your head in protest, on your tip toes, just to drag your mouth down his jaw and neck. "Even though this needy pussy is leaking all over my fingers, responding to me like I own her," he tutted, "but I don't, do I? Pretty girl."

You made a noise half-whimper, half-growl, palming him through his pants until he hissed and then broke his feigned amusement from just how much you were riling him up. "I am yours, Satoru, always, always," you panted.

"I know that baby, but I need to know if she still is." He yanked your panties up so roughly the fabric strained against your clit and made you moan so lewdly you quickly covered your mouth.

"Needy girl," he said lowly before he drew his hand back and slapped your pussy. You moaned even louder, falling weakly into his chest. But you hardly fell far, as he grabbed your face in one hand and leant close.

"You like it when I slap your needy little pussy like this, baby?" His smile moved a millimetre as your eyes darted to his long, pretty fingers. "Want me to bury my fingers inside it till you come too? So you can stop being so needy?"

"Please, Satoru." 

"Then show me, show me how much you want them," he whispered, eyes shooting down between you both as he started to circle your clit, not daring to touch it. 

"Show me you're dying for it, and we can forget about all of this mess, can't we? You've just gotta show me who knows this pussy best.” The growing gravel in his voice turned the words into ragged commands.

In raptured submission, you yanked aside your panties and guided his fingers, back arching against the door as you ran them back and forth against your soaked cunt. Your breaths finally flew fluidly through the air, like his touch was what your body needed to convert the carbon dioxide. 

His jaw grew slack at the sight of you, getting yourself off on his fingers, clumsily rubbing your swollen clit against his fingertips, breaths huffing from your nose in the exertion. 

He leant into the beautiful image of you, moaning in your ear as your slick drowned his fingers. The slick wet sounds of your cunt as you run them back and forth, rapidly unravelling him.

"Look at me," he demanded, plunging two of his fingers knuckle deep until it squelched when you didn’t comply in seconds. You let out a humiliating whimper. The pleasure of the sudden yet sweet stretch danced through every nerve.  

He grinned, fucking his fingers inside, “You look so pretty like this, I should take a photo.”

"I can't…." You couldn't speak, not when his fingers were relentless inside like this, clenching and fluttering as he bullied that spot inside you.

But his name was a never-ending hot, sweaty mantra.

"Trying to give me scraps, huh? But you're mine," he spat. 

"No, I need you, Satoru. I need only you, only you," you babbled. 

The lustful look in your eyes catapulted him over the edge. He couldn't take it anymore, his palm granting sweet friction to your clit as he fucked you like the world was about to end. "I know you need it, baby. I've got you. I know.”

He tried to undo your buttons with his free hand but was too fucked out to do it, grunting for your help, so you did immediately. "Say the words, and I'll stretch this sweet pussy out with my cock after you come, baby.”

"I'm yours, please. Fuck me," you whimpered, your entire body shaking as pleasure climbed through your body, building until you felt the pressure about to burst. Your hands roamed his body, eager to feel him as you removed your own shirt.

But like an animal, he was all over you, kissing, licking, and biting as you squirmed close to your climax. His lips closed around your nipple, and your spine straightened at the softness until he bites it hard. 

You yelped, but he only laughed, "Hurts? Don't care, baby, it hurts seeing you with that loser, the number of times I've had to come in my fucking hand because of you."

The lewd sloshes of your pussy grew louder, and Gojo delighted in how you were now dripping onto the floor. So, he finally granted you mercy, pulsing his hand until you came in wild thrashing waves that rippled violently through your body. 

"Oh yeah? Did that feel good, pretty girl?" he whispered, tilting your chin to devour your breathless mouth. The press of his lips and the erotic flicks of his tongue were making you throb wildly on his fingers. "See, you do like it when I talk.”

He let out such an attractive laugh at your glare that you fluttered around him again. "Baby again? I'm not gonna leave this pussy just yet, let up, or I won't be able to get my cock inside," he hummed. "Isn't that what we both want?"

"Then do it. Put it in me." You spread yourself, and he bit back a moan. His eyes flickered at how you shook when his thumb brushed your clit experimentally. 

Your brows knitted at the lingering sensation, “Please, put it in me, now." 

"Oh baby, but if you keep squeezing like that." Gojo grew dizzy at how your pussy refused to let him go, helping you tug away his belt and zip down his pants. Hazy, as you let up enough for him to take his fingers out of your spasming cunt. 

"You really gonna let me fuck you right here, huh?" 

His eyes were half-lidded at the sight of you in your office heels, panties soaked and half-pulled down, shirt hanging limply and open, your skirt a thick black belt hugging your torso. 

You were a mess, his mess, his pretty mess.

"Oh baby, you're so beautiful." He knelt down, working down your panties with his breath uneven, kissing each knee as he worked them down each ankle and then tossed them behind him. 

"Shall I tell you something?" he mused, running his hands up and down your thighs as he kissed and licked at the slick threatening to stick them together.

"Yes, tell me." Your hands slid instinctively into his hair as he reached your pussy and kissed it.

"I'll be honest, yeah?"

He was waiting for a shaky, "Yeah?" so you granted him one laced through a whimper, so he suckled on your clit in return before speaking. 

“I can pamper you. Spoil you, fuck you, take care of you." His voice was almost hoarse, thick and affected by something other than lust—a different emotion.

"I know that Toru, I do."

"N' I can—love you, too," he murmured, voice so uncharacteristically small but soft like it used to be when he spoke to you at night.

You gasped. Gojo had never said those words, not once. "Satoru, I-" His tongue dove into your cunt, and you almost toppled forwards, but somehow in seconds, he was carrying you. Holding you close, you heard the unmistakable clatter of the desk's contents clatter to the floor as he pressed you down upon the cold surface.

His large arms locked your torso down, and he swiftly resumed tongue fucking your cunt, delving his fingers in and out. His heart was pounding with his confession and from your lack of reply. Though he knew he was fucking you so precisely and so perfectly that it was indeed impossible for you to respond.

Until you burst once more, hands tugging his hair, bucking your pussy into his face, greedy for not just more, but for him. For the actions to do more than the words you could barely manage, so overstimulated and so sensitive that you felt yourself heating up. But then, as your pleasure erupted, feeling your hot arousal coat your thighs, a garbled "I love you" ripped from your chest. 

Satoru froze for several seconds, and then it was as if someone found the remote and clicked play as he somehow tugged off his blazer and pants all at once. Ripping his boxers down just enough to grab the base of his cock. 

Peering down at you, hungry and lovesick. "Say it again." You giggled and tugged him down for a messy kiss, working off his shirt.

"I love you, Satoru, I love you. I've never been afraid to say it." Your body was still shaking from your blinding orgasm, and he loved every second of it. He loved that he was about to ruin you even more. 

His cheek brushed yours as he folded your body, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, "I love you," he whispered hotly into your ear, "I want you to feel like the luckiest woman in the world."

“I already do.”

“Yeah?” You moaned in tandem as he bucked his hips repeatedly, more of his cock easing in each time. Teasing you over and over, even though you were ready to take him, and he knew it. "Can you take me, baby?"

"Yes!" You whined, breath hitching as he tapped his cock against your cunt before he slammed in and filled you to the brim all at once. You both groaned, the sounds fading into seconds of soft relieved laughter. "Oh fuck, Toru, so good."

He moaned, voice shaky in your ear, "That's it, baby, you're so good. Take my cock. It's all yours. Take every single inch."

"Fuck Toru, you're so deep, too deep!"

"No, baby, feels good, doesn't it?" 

Before you knew it, he picked you up and slammed you against the glass overlooking the city. If you weren't on the top floor, you'd absolutely refuse. But Gojo always did like fucking you in front of Tokyo at night. 

"You can take it, baby, you can fucking take it, yeah? Cause you're made for me, so made for me," he panted.

"I can take it." 

"I know you can." He sucked and kissed on your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on you, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and took every slam of his hips. His stamina had always been otherworldly, never tiring, even as he fucked you standing up, hands sinking into the undersides of your thighs.

"Leave him," he moaned, not in the slightest asking. 

Luckily you didn't mind, as you tugged him closer and parted your lips, "I will, I promise." 

"Because you're mine, baby." His teeth were clenched, and he was groaning into your ear. Usually, Gojo could pace himself, but it had been so long, and you felt so good clinging to him like this, it was so close and so intimate. “I love you.”

So close, and so…

He blinked at the revelation that hit him like a freight train, he wasn’t going to run any longer. He liked the intimacy, he wanted to tell you all the stupid things you wanted to know now, he wanted to be close, he wanted you. He wanted to be everything you needed and wanted. 

"Are you gonna come?" Your voice was so sweet it gave him an instant sugar rush, "Come in me, baby, fill me, Satoru. Need your cum," you whimpered. “Want it?”

"Yeah? You fucking do, princess? Haah-" He pulled out and shoved your front against the glass. You moaned at the switch, and as he spread you apart before thrusting back in, his large hands engulfing each cheek. 

He lost it as you pushed your hips back on him, moaning and babbling, "Then let's have the entirety of Tokyo be a witness as I give my sweet girl what she fucking wants, huh?"

"Fuck, Satoru, feels too good! I'm close too!" you moaned, both of your bodies meeting in desperate sticky clashes of hips.

He whimpered, “We're gonna come together?" 

You were gonna send him over the edge tonight. 

"I’m so glad you came. Take me, take it, baby. Oh fuck.” His hands dug into your hips, making you take every single rope of his arousal. Lewd sounds tore from your throats at the sensation of him filling you deeply. After seconds of panting and melting into each other's arms, he still made no immediate moves to leave you.

He thrusted slowly to drive it deeper, "I'm not on birth control anymore," you squeaked. "But I'll take th-“

"Good. We're getting the family started just on time."

You giggled tiredly, "You're on board that fast?"

He squeezed you as he laughed himself, arms locked tight around your waist, "Do you wanna see the engagement ring in my desk or?"

"Satoru!" 

He twirled you around to face him, "I was gonna fly you somewhere and propose, but I suppose the cats out of the bag." He pouted and got on one knee, kissing your knuckles, "You'll marry me, won't ya? Think of this as a practice proposal, though!"

You sighed, "God, you're a fucking idiot." 

"Heh, heh." He opened his desk drawer and produced a small black box. 

“I wasn’t joking, actually,” he popped it open with a proud smile, "Shoko kind of helped me pick it, said it was-"

It was beautiful, everything you’d always envisioned but had never described to him or anybody else. 

A slow tear slid down your cheek, another racing beside it seconds later, “Aww! Are you that happy to marry me, sweetheart?"

"Go away! But…yes."

He put the ring on the desk and cupped your cheeks, "Yes, you're happy, or yes, you'll marry me?" he asked tentatively.

"Both!" 

"Yay!”

You were half-expecting people to jump out with confetti because Gojo was just that ridiculous sometimes, but instead, you heard shrill knocking and then Nanami's voice, absolutely exasperated. "Gojo! You knew I was working overtime today." 

He shrugged, grinning at you recoiling into his chest and half-expecting Nanami to barrel in, "Probably the most action you'll get all year!"

He stroked your cheek, full of adoration. 

But I got her back. 

He always did like grand gestures. 

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

tagging: @afortoru @luvjiro @sixpennydame @4sat0ruu @fangirlings-world @romantichomicide95 @nkogneatho @p00pdev1l @utahimeow @hayakawasb1tch @yocoochbussin <3

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Samael (Raphael x F!Tav)

Dad Raphael fic, a little bit fluffy and a little bit dark

Read on AO3

-

Tav’s body woke her. Her breasts ached, her biological clock wired and telling her that her baby would probably be getting hungry right now, even if he hadn’t yet made a sound. She expected to hear his cries shortly, but her son wasn’t in his cradle, and her husband wasn’t in their bed. The space where he’d been sleeping was still warm. For a moment, Tav simply lay there, soaking in the peace.

Her baby was not a tiefling, but a cambion, meaning he slept in odd fits, and his behaviour was often unpredictable and so unlike a regular infant his age. He’d been born with tiny fangs – something Tav’s nipples did not appreciate – tiny wings, tiny claws, and a tiny ropey tail. Bumps on his forehead indicated where his horns would eventually grow. Tav loved him desperately. He’d also almost killed her on his way into the world, but Tav would give her life a thousand times over for him.

Eventually she dragged herself out of bed, deciding to look for her boys. The House of Hope’s halls were quiet and empty, most of the wandering debtors being banished after the birth of the little prince. His father deemed their ilk unworthy to look upon his offspring; Tav was just glad the creepy bastards were finally gone. It made hearing baby babble and the low, dulcet tones of her husband much easier, and from there Tav simply followed the music.

Raphael was in the archives, their son on his hip. He was wearing his soft red velvet dress robe – Tav’s favourite – and his feet were bare. She noticed with amusement his big wings were held further out from his shoulders than usual. They fascinated their son, and he had a habit of pulling and chewing on them. It didn’t hurt, but Raphael was sick of being covered in baby slobber.

“So you see, Samael, when drafting a contract, one must always ensure the clause has enough wiggle room for the recipient to believe they can hold the upper hand against you,” said Raphael, matter-of-fact. “That way, when the curtain falls, they fail to notice just how tight your grip has become. It’s something of an art form, I believe.”

“Abababa!” Samael gurgled, waving his pudgy red fists at his father.

“Precisely,” Raphael nodded. It appeared they were having a serious discussion. Heart warmed, Tav just stood there and watched them. Samael got stronger every day. He could already spread and flex his wings, and his control over his tail muscles constantly improved. A few months old and he was able to delicately curl it around the arms and wrists of his parents – something he was attempting to do right then, but Raphael made a game out of evasion. He’d wait until the last moment before gently snatching Samael’s tail, commanding the boy to try again. Samael giggled every time; Tav wasn’t blind to the fondness softening her husband’s gold eyes at the sound.

He was every bit the scheming, opportunistic, terrible devil she’d met so long ago, but there was so much more to him than that. He’d spent countless nights reading novels, plays, and poetry to Samael while he was still in her womb; he’d rubbed her swollen feet whenever she asked and weathered her terrible mood swings with grace; he’d shed tears, silent and stoic, when his wailing and bloody newborn was placed in his arms for the first time. Looking at him now, Archdevil Supreme Raphael, holding and teasing their son, Tav wondered not for the first time if concepts such as good and evil were too broad to truly exist.

Samael turned his head and spotted her watching them. A fanged smile lit up his face and he wriggled with excitement, reaching for her. He cooed unintelligibly, noises far too sweet to come from hellspawn, surely. The jig was up, though of course, Tav had no illusions that her husband was unaware of her presence. She approached them. Raphael offered the boy with little resistance, and Tav sighed at the feeling of completeness when he was snuggled against her chest.

“Hello, Sammy,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his soft chestnut-coloured hair.

“What woke you?” Raphael asked, his voice rich and quiet. “I thought to let you rest.”

“My body,” Tav huffed, amused. “Telling me to feed my baby.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, alright, I know,” Tav said when Samael began fussily pawing at her breast. “Give me a moment.”

She let her loose sleeping shirt slip enough to free one breast. Samael immediately latched on and began suckling, his miniature claws finding purchase. Raphael’s expression was like simmering magma: dark and primal satisfaction, possessiveness, desire, hellish adoration. He always took in particular delight when she nursed Samael. Fed their little cambion. For him, Tav knew, it was the truest acceptance of his nature – the same undeniable nature of their son. She knew she had bonded herself to Raphael far beyond the promises between husband and wife, mother of his child; he would never let her, or Samael, leave him.

Sometimes, the depth of love and obsession she saw in Raphael’s eyes scared her. He would do unspeakable things to keep them safe. To keep them. Sometimes, when Samael would deliberately bite her nipple to sample her blood as well as milk, she wondered what kind of monster she had brought into the world. If he would grow into a fiend more than a man. Sometimes, she wondered when her old friends would finally act upon their threat to destroy her and her Archdevil lover. If Raphael would make their deaths swift or slow. But never did she wonder if she’d made the wrong choice. Raphael tugged her close, shutting his wings around them. He purred when she leaned into him. Samael’s tail encircled her arm. Tav was content.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hello :) just want to say I love your fictions especially your law ones :) Might I ask you to write a fluff about law x crush!reader, where the reader is very bubbly and kind hearted and literally forced herself on laws ship because it was her only option to explore the world. Like she annoys the hell out of law with her bubblyness and boldness but somewhen he realized he has a big fat crush on reader :) I know its very specific but I always saw law with a bubbly flower girl, I think the contrast is cute and somehow law always end up with bold and bubbly characters like luffy and corazon. I think he attracts those kind of people :)

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 1110

     Eye twitching, Law watched you skip down the streets. They were in town to let the log pose reset and gather supplies and you were being your usual annoyingly upbeat self. You’d joined the crew relatively recently, but you were a good enough fighter that he’d allowed you to join, despite how peppy and bubbly you were. Still, your constantly upbeat attitude and and bubbly personality seemed to get on his every damned last nerve! He didn’t mind how kind you were. He was a doctor, doctors helped people, even if they weren’t always pleasant. Seeing you be so kind and giving was something he appreciated in a person. What he didn’t like was how you’d actually joined his crew, how bold you were, how peppy you were. Sure, he kept you on the ship and kept you as part of the crew because of your skills, but when you’d originally joined, he’d wanted to use his room to cut you into pieces. You’d started by stowing away onto his ship, only revealing yourself once they were far enough out to sea that they couldn’t sail back and would have to let you stay until the next island. After while, you’d quickly and easily befriended each and every crewmate… to an annoying degree. Once they’d reached the next island, you’d given the saddest, biggest puppy dog eyes as you pleaded with him to stay, when he’d said no, you’d started giving the crew the most tearful goodbyes, telling them how much you’d miss them and how you’d never forget them and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! He wasn’t sure who’d given him the next biggest puppy dog eyes after you, Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin. After much begging on the crew’s part, he’d finally agreed to let you stay, giving you crew duties, rules, and other things you’d need to know. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that you’d wanted to see the world, to experience new things, to do something other than stay on your peaceful little island. Watching you twirl around in the middle of the street, he couldn’t help but sigh, how were you always so happy? Always so cheery and positive? You hadn’t had the traumatic childhood that some people had, sure, but he’d only ever met 1 other person as bright and sunny as you, and that was Luffy. Though to be honest, he didn’t understand why Luffy was so cheery either, but for entirely different reasons. 

     Looking back at Law, you couldn’t help but give him a bright smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, the wind blowing past you. You’d enjoyed being a part of the crew, seeing the world, traveling from place to place. It was a refreshing change of pace and it let you see and experience new things you’d never had the chance to before. Moreover, the crew was kind, sweet, and enjoyable to be around, quickly befriending them. It was somewhat amazing, to be honest, that someone as serious and stoic as Law had a crew as cheery and lively as the Heart Pirates. Though it benefited you, fitting right in with the others and easily getting along with them. While befriending them so you could stay hadn’t been your intention, it had helped a great deal when you’d been trying to convince him to let you join, the crew begging him as well. He seemed to have a soft spot for 3 crewmates in particular, you could only guess that they had a long history together. Dancing down the streets, you couldn’t help but laugh and smile, stopping by the occasional store to buy supplies or look at various clothes or goodies for yourself. You had a few days before the log pose reset, so you’d spend today getting supplies and the next couple of days exploring the island, enjoying the greenery, and doing some personal shopping. Sadly, you knew Law wouldn’t accompany you on such excursions, finding them to be rather frivolous. It was too bad, really, you wished he’d join you, wished you could spend more time with him, despite the personality differences, you really liked him. Yes, you knew you had a crush on him, but you also knew that he didn’t feel the same way about you, so you kept your feelings to yourself.

     The next day surprised you, Law following you as you headed for the outskirts of town. You’d heard of a wonderful field of flowers and wanted to check them out, telling your captain where you’d be in case he needed to find you. He’d sighed, stood up, grabbed his coat, and followed you out. It made no sense! Why had he followed you? Why had he come with you? Not that you were complaining, you enjoyed being around him, but it confused you greatly. Picking a few flowers, you quickly wove 2 flower crowns, placing one on your own head before placing the other over Law’s signature hat, surprising the young man. Had you really just placed a flower crown on him? Why? Why make a flower crown for him? Did he look like the kind of guy who cared about flowers? Why was he happy that you’d given him a flower crown? Why did he suddenly feel so flustered? Why had he accompanied you in the first place?!

     These thoughts bothered him for days, even as they set sail once more, leaving him baffled as to his own feelings for you. You annoyed the ever loving hell out of him! Ever the doctor, Law started looking for a medical reason for his ‘symptoms’, anything to explain away his feelings in an attempt to avoid the reality of what was happening. Still, even his medical textbooks were starting to point towards the obvious, towards the one thing he didn’t want to admit. No disease explained all of his symptoms and there was no way he could have everything that would explain the symptoms. No! No he didn’t have feelings for you! Except he knew he couldn’t deny it anymore. He cared for you. You made his heart race, his stomach flip, his cheeks turn bright red, his breath would catch in his throat, his brain would get fuzzy when you smiled at him and laughed. He… he cared for you, he had a crush on you. Now, he could only hope that these feeling of longing would go away.

     They didn’t. They never went away. His feelings for you only got deeper as he fell hard and harder for you with each passing day until he was hopelessly in love.

[magical-regical]

Continuing my L&DS hyperfixation but also because Owl City just released a new single, here are some owl city songs that remind me of each LI and Caleb

Go under the cut if you want some extremely long commentary on why I picked the songs I did. If you don't care what I have to say, please peruse this TLDR;

Xavier: If My Heart Was a House

Zayne: Car Trouble

Rafayel: My Muse, Rainbow Veins

Caleb: Hot Air Balloon, The Bird and The Worm

Ah you're still here. A few disclaimers before you continue:

Whenever I mention MC in this, I will be using she/her pronouns.

I haven't listened to every owl city song in existence and some songs didn't stick with me the way the songs listed here did so if you think my takes are garbage and I'm a big dumb stupid idiot for not considering the song you're thinking of, uh, feel free to make your own post abt it.

I know sweet f a abt music theory so I'm just going based off vibes and lyrics not composition.

I haven't read Xavier's or Zayne's myth stories to completion and haven't read Rafayel's at all.

Anyway, without further ado, enjoy my lukewarm takes.

Xavier

This song makes me so soft and it's way too easy to imagine Xavier and MC dancing to this. The first lines sound like he's reminiscing of the time he had with MC in her past lives,

You're the sky that I fell through, and I remember the view whenever I'm holding you

The sun hung from a string, looking down on the world as it warmed over everything.

Chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine and your sighs harmonize with mine.

Unmistakably, I can still feel your heart beat fast when you dance with me.

He pulls her in closer as the first pre-chorus plays. And the two pre-chorus' in this song sound like a conversation between him and his memory of past!MC.

The first one:

We got older and I should've known,

Do you feel alive?

That I'd feel colder when I walk alone

Oh, but you'll survive

The second one:

I walk slowly when I'm on my own

Do you feel alive?

Yea but frankly, I still feel alone.

Oh, but you'll survive

And then the chorus hits and the vibes are immaculate. It feels like you're floating on air and imagine how Xavier looks at MC when the last few lines play,

Risk it all 'cuz I'll catch you if you fall,

Wherever you go,

If my heart was a house, you'd be home.

Because she is the celestial body that orbits around him, his north, his guiding star, and his heart will always be her home.

Zayne

And you can't convince me this isn't one of the songs that plays at their wedding.

This is the catalyst of this post's creation. As of writing this, it's the newest single and I am obsessed with it. So strap in folks, I have a lot to say.

First of all, the first thirty seconds of this song was released as a preview titled 'Floppy Fish' that came out ten years ago and we didn't hear anything else about it until suddenly we get a tweet about it four days ago (as of writing this part) and then this masterpiece. I think it reflects Zayne and MCs relationship quite well, they were childhood friends, lost contact for a while, and now they're reunited to build another beautiful relationship.

On to the song itself, the overall song is about going back to see the person you love even through all sorts of car troubles. The car theme immediately screamed 'Zayne' to me because out of all the boys we see him drive MC around the most.

It's a very upbeat song which contrasts Zayne's stoic personality but the whole song is something I can imagine actually happening to him.

I see the first verse as Zayne trying his damndest to finish up work instead of having actual car troubles,

I've been driving all afternoon, but I hate to say it, I won't be there soon = him working all afternoon and still having to do overtime

And though I'm late you know I just can't wait to come home to my slice of heaven on toast.

But my GrandPrix broke down without fail, another flat tire and another nail = the 'tire' being the hearts he has to operate on and 'another nail' referring to his surgeon's tools (even though the nail in the song is the thing that broke the tire in the first place not the thing fixing the flat)

I miss your smile but this could take a while 'cause this 'road closed' sign says there's no way around. = he can't just ditch work, obviously.

The second verse and chorus is him actually running out of gas on his way back from Akso and just describes his situation. Walking through the rain, only stopping to buy flowers for her.

Hey, it's kinda crazy what daisies jasmines can do.

And then these lines from the third verse,

I'd hand you a coffee right when you woke up

and

... all I find is all these highways wind and lead back to my slice of heaven on toast.

are so cute. Especially the 'slice of heaven on toast' thing since I imagine a slice of heaven on toast would taste sweet.

But wait, it gets better. Because the chorus that comes after goes,

Oh would your heart kind of glow if I held your hand and I promised to stay home?

Hey, when I blow in that's the first thing I'll do

It might take me forever

It might take me forever

But I love you forever and I can't wait to see you.

I'm dead. I'm deceased. I am a puddle of goo on the ground.

The bridge is the most upbeat part of the song and I imagine that's when he gets a call from MC because she's worried about him. Because honestly the line, 'Am I unavoidably detained or extremely fashionably late?' sounds like the kind of dry humor he'd enjoy.

And the song ends as he hangs up and continues his long journey on public transport to come home to her.

Rafayel

Now, fish boy gets two songs because I associate each one with what I like to call 'light mode' and 'dark mode' Rafayel.

I chose both songs because they had like, a lot of imagery involved in them and lean heavily into his whole artist job. So this isn't going to be as in depth as Zayne's lol.

Anyway,

This is light mode Rafayel. The whole song is him talking to MC. He's all happy-go-lucky and filled with inspiration. With how important color is to his current career the song just felt perfect.

The chorus also adds a few nice tidbits of his character,

Cheer up and dry your damp eyes, and tell me when it rains

And I'll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins

'Cause your heart has a lack of color and we should've known

That we'd grow up sooner or later, 'cause we wasted all our free time alone

The first two lines sound like something he'd actually say when he's trying to comfort MC.

The line 'we wasted all our free time alone' sticks out to me because you ever notice this guy doesn't have any friends? Like, Xavier has Jeremiah and the countless old people he's made friends with when they're in their youth and Zayne has his coworkers at the hospital and his old profs. Raffy doesn't really have anyone like that? Sure he has Thomas and his Aunt Talia but judging by how fast they hung up on him after barely wishing him a happy birthday, I can't in good conscience call them his friends.

So yea maybe our boy was so focused on finding MC again he wasted all his free time alone.

Then we have dark mode Rafayel. And no I don't mean dark as in Rafayel when he's in revenge plot mode (whatever that is I don't have enough brain cells to comprehend what his plan could possibly be). I mean dark mode as in it's quite literally night time and he is left with nothing but his own thoughts. MC fell asleep at his place again and he's wistfully staring at her sleeping figure. This is the song in those moments.

Like Xavier, he's reminiscing about the past lives and past MCs. He's remembering the first time he met and the moment he decided she was the one. She was his bride. He's listing all the things he loves about her (which basically boils down to 'everything!'). She is his muse, now and forever.

And then the song ends with:

So I'll say it now before we're at the door that someday we'll walk through,

And if I'm the only one left in the room...

There's nowhere else I'd rather be than home with you.

Do you hear that? That's the sound of my heart cracking in two. He will sing you this last line as he pulls you closer, pressing your forehead against his before giving you a nice, long kiss.

Honorable mention goes to the song 'Sunburn' because it's about meeting someone, falling in love, and having to separate in the end (hence, 'she got a tan and I got a sunburn' and 'as we parted ways, she held my gaze and left an imprint on my mind'). I could go deeper and analyze each line like I did w/ Zayne but I've kept the Caleb girlies waiting long enough so we'll stop Raffy's part here.

Caleb

Caleb also gets two songs I chose two songs that have heavy 'childhood friends to lovers' vibes and fitting imagery and I told myself this one was gonna be short and sweet because we don't have as much depth abt his relationship w/ the MC compared to the current LIs but welp, I lied.

'Hot Air Balloon' is the most childhood friends song ever. Every single lyric is just every adventure these two went on when they were children. Writing their own fairy tales, making a racetrack around the kitchen chairs, going on a picnic to a nearby lake and getting a stomachache because you drank lake water even though Grandma Josephine told you specifically not to do that, the list just goes on and on.

It's them. It's little MC and Caleb with lightning in their veins and stars in their eyes as they explore the world around them, not a care in the world because the possibilities are quite literally endless when they have the other person by their side.

And then if 'Hot Air Balloon' was 'childhood friends—', 'The Bird And The Worm' adds on the '—to lovers' part of the trope.

I mean the entire first verse reads like the two kids playing pretend (because let's face it you've had one or two weirdly morbid play pretend sessions when you were a kid) with little Caleb saying he's the bird because of his evol and then little MC's like "then what does that make me?" And little Caleb's like "you're the worm ofc!"

Esp the part about throwing a party and greeting undersea friends (hi Raffy). I could imagine little MC telling little Caleb how she's going to invite the mermaid she made friends with at the beach to their 'party' and Caleb just not having any of it.

I'll throw a party and greet my undersea friends

(it depends)

As they arrive,

(if they arrive)

Then the chorus reads like a time skip. They're adults reminiscing about their childhood at one of the rare moments their schedules align,

You and I left our troubles far behind,

But I still have just one more question on my mind

For all my pals who live in the oceans and the seas

With friends like these well, who needs enemies?

In that moment they're back to being just MC and Caleb, not a hunter and a fighter pilot. And the last two lines sound like they're trading workplace gossip. Caleb tells her about the shenanigans his colleagues get up to and MC telling him about all the...'quirky' people she's been running into (hi Xav) and then being cheeky and going 'with friends like these, who needs enemies?'

And then you move to the second verse and it's them on a date. It's them on the most damn wholesome date you can imagine, I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

Like first they go apple picking,

If I'm your boy, we'll take a short cut we remember and we'll enjoy—

—picking apples in late September like we've done for years.

We'll take a long walk through the cornfield and I'll kiss you between the ears.

Then they come home and cook together (maybe make a pie with the apples they just picked or some other apple based dish?),

And as we twirl, the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling will shine for us

If you're my girl, swirl me around your room with feeling

As love sweeps over the room cuz' we tend to make, each other blush

(you make me blush)

They're so used to each other's presence even in a kitchen that can be considered a little cramped, they can perfectly navigate around each other.

After the two had eaten a delicious dinner, they are now cuddled on the couch with a blanket over the two of them, some movie playing on the TV. MC starts nodding off so Caleb picks her up and moves her to the bedroom, letting her snuggle against him. He brushes some loose strands of hair away so he can kiss her forehead,

"Love ya pipsqueak, sleep well."

And before drifting off he hears MC mumble a sleepy "I love you too..."

And that's how their perfect day ends.

You're the bird, I'm the worm and it's plain to see,

That we were meant to be.

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

Author's rambling

Haaaa, I finally finished it yay! If you're reading this, thanks for reading this far! (or if you're a Caleb stan and just decided to read his part only, hello!)

I hope you enjoyed my takes. This was fun, I loved breaking down each song and just rambling my heart out over why each song gives me vibes for which character.

[safety-writes-noms]

Merry Post-Christmas moot!

Sorry finals were giving you the eye-twitches and that I wasn't online when you made your asks request before, but here's my latest spidervores hc (centered around Miggy because hello, it's me):

~~~

Miguel's enhanced senses make him the best at communicating with or checking in on anyone he has already consumed. Not only can he hear them speaking to him from inside his stomach easily, but his enhanced sense of touch extends to his stomach as well - he can feel his prey's movements, breathing and even their heartbeat if they're leaning against his stomach wall.

Peter B finds this very impressive - in his own experience nomming people, he mostly just feels full, and he can hear his prey speak only if they talk loudly and he strains a bit to hear.

Miguel's enhanced sense of taste makes the process of nomming prey more enjoyable for him than most of the other spiders - he picks up on very distinct flavors whenever he noms someone, and he favors prey that have a combination of sweet and savory flavors. The spiders he's nommed have asked him to describe their flavors to him, but he has a hard time directly comparing them to normal food flavors.

Miguel's sense of smell and taste combined allow him to pick up on his prey's mood/mental state - he can tell if they're stressed, happy, scared, etc. based on the subtle chemical signals their bodies give off - not exactly pheromones, but similar.

That's all I've got for now!

AJDJAJA HI MOOT!! this is also very very very very post christmas 😭 happy early valentines if you celebrate it! if not then I hope your month has been good so far.

also I love these headcanons. I think Miguel being able to feel his prey more acutely is so cool and I will now be adding it to my pile of mig hcs :D. plus it adds to his character because he's a workaholic no nonsense control freak /affectionate so of course he would be able to feel everything and make sure they’re fine inside of him.

Since he would probably only nom a select few of people (the ones who are close to him, the ones who he cares about deeply) he genuinely does care about how they feel. Especially if he can taste it. While he would prefer to stay stoic and distant, he finds that people manage to worm through his defenses and to his heart anyway.

If you’re one of those people, congrats! It’s a difficult feat but not impossible. He’s susceptible to genuine care and love and while he tries to run away from it, it catches up with him anyways. I’m not gonna pretend like this dude isn’t traumatized and struggles to accept that he’s allowed to have anything nice (judging off of his comics) but over time, if you’re determined enough to help him, he’ll definitely relent and let you in.

While he doesn’t really think he’s got any redeeming qualities, he shows that he cares through his concern. He’ll check up on you if he thinks you look exhausted or offer you a listening ear if you’re frustrated, etc. If you just want a place to relax and hide away from the overwhelming world outside, he’ll tentatively offer to nom you. Even though he’s afraid that you’ll reject him and think of him as a monster, he still wants to try, just in case you really do need it. He’ll set aside his own insecurities to help you. At his core, i think he’s a giver.

If you say yes, he’ll gulp you down with no further questions. Easy as that. Miguel wont admit that he likes to have someone tucked away inside of him, but his body betrays him, his stomach walls shifting to cradle them more comfortably, his hand subconsciously settling over his gut, etc. even if you don’t want to be gulped down, he’s fine with letting you rest on his shoulder or on his head while he works. Hes such a silly goober /pos

[courtofmatchups]

For the matchup thing can I request one from Obey Me  

Hobbies? I well I do acting, I write a lot, I like preparing outfits, social media, I shop a lot, getting into makeup and I suppose I want to get into music someday

My personality? I’m not to sure how I’d describe myself but I can be responsible, reliable. I can be cold and stoic in real life if I don’t trust someone (it takes me a while to warm up to someone) but once I have I can be a gremlin who I guess I’ve been described as kind and a natural caregiver. I’ve been told empathy is a gift I possess. I enjoy taking care of people

I’m also really keen on physical affection as I like to cuddle my friends. I tend to not like higher authority as well as I don’t like being told what to do and prefer to decide things myself. 

I like: my hobbies im really passionate about them, people that I’m close to, caffeine, sleep, plushies, sweets, video games, anime just otaku stuff etc 

I don’t like: insects

My love languages

Giving: physical touch, quality time

Receiving: physical touch, words of affirmation 

My zodiac is Aquarius my mbti is INFJ 

My aesthetic is basically dark academia, goth pink and stuff like that. To summarize it in a way that I’ve been described think Wednesday or something. Which I guess with how I act when I warm up to someone is really gap-moe lmao.

Make sure to drink water and take care of yourself and take your time on this:)

It seems to me you've captured the heart of

The Otaku Third-Born

Leviathan!

Ok, given your personality, this man may or may not find you to be a little intimidating from afar, but in a way he can't help but feel captivated by you. You're stoic and aloof at first glance, and if he's learned anything from his manga and from living with Lucifer and Satan, stoic people tend to have a hidden sweet/wholesome/goofy side.

And when you warm up to him and show him that side to you, He's absolutely head over heels. And your hobbies?? Levi would absolutely love cosplaying with you. Maybe even perform some silly little skits with you in cosplay.

And when you just want to just chill and cuddle him, he'll just put on a relaxing anime while he holds you, sometimes in is demon form with his tail wrapped around you for maximum comfort. Levi has been wanting this to happen for a while, and when you first ask to do it, he'd be a flustered mess. Not to worry, he'll get used to it, since in theory, he likes physical touch, and now he's confirmed that he likes it in practice also. Levi might not be the most eloquent with words in practice, but he'll still give you the words of affirmation you need

Levi also likes to rely on you. Empathy is a beautiful trait to have, and your respect for boundaries is something he deeply respects. There are times you need him to get out of being holed up in his room, so be prepared for that.

Overall, a happy relationship. One where you can both can grow together (Levi: we all love a good character arc. Or multiple if need be lol)

[senjuushi]

Memory Au — Character Info Post

Time for a New Au! >:D This one uses a scenario where, through an unknown summoning glitch, the gunboys are temporarily returned to the physical and mental state they were in when they were first summoned... and before all of the abuse and trauma had fully started happening. Or had only just started.

Overall, that means innocent, trusting, openly needy guns who don't have the experience or awareness to hide their more vulnerable traits. Some are outwardly much better off than how they'd later end up, some just have a different set of issues.

For asks/requests, you can take the chance to treat these un-broken versions of the gunboys with kindness... or you can be their first truly terrible experiences. The aftermath of the switch is also a fun part to think about; when they go back to their normal selves, yet retain all of the memories of what happened to them while they'd been changed.

Requests are open for this now, so have fun! General questions (about the Au itself, character personalities, etc) are welcome!

. . .

F

Sweet, somewhat shy, and deeply eager to be a good Musketeer just like his useful, reliable brother. He’s soft-hearted and emotionally sensitive— both praise and disapproval affect him massively. Cries easily and is awful at hiding his emotions. Physical affection makes him melt, but he’s easily flustered by too much attention or intimate touch.

Belga

Still hyperactive and more than a little stupid, but behaves more like an overexcited kid than a battle-happy maniac. He’s constantly pestering his Master and seeking out attention, eager to learn about everything they like and join in on their happiness. Shows his soft-hearted crybaby side far more often, and runs to his Master whenever he wants comfort.

Mikhael

Soft-spoken, gentle, and almost angelically elegant. Delicate in both body and demeanor. Rather than being disconnected and distant from the world to protect himself, he adores the beauty of the world around him and is far more willing to open up and connect with others. He can be slightly spacey and frequently ends up lost in his thoughts.

Ninety

Just like an eager puppy, he’s clingy, happy, and excited by nearly everything. He’s able to talk in this state, and not afraid at all to do so. While he still does have a rather anxious personality, to some degree, he’s more willing to show how helpful and clever he can be, and nowhere near as panicky. He’s full of energy and usually fidgeting because of it.

Ghost

Still aware that he’s a failed prototype, and anxiety-ridden because of it. Terribly insecure and afraid of abandonment, yet still hopeful that he can prove himself useful to earn his Master’s attention. Follows his Master like a persistent shadow, though he’s too nervous to ask for attention outright. Highly emotional and not jaded enough to try to hide it.

89.

While he’s still introverted and prone to depressive spirals, he’s much more hopeful and optimistic. Shy and highly responsive to any kindness from others, he quickly grows attached to those who show interest in him. Quickly gets clingy and needy with a kind master. He’s still awkward around other people, but without the beaten-in fear of rejection.

Eins

Emotionally stunted and struggles with empathy, yet puts in effort to connect with the other guns. Caring, protective, and often fills a “big brother”-like role. Does his best to fulfill whatever orders he receives; takes commands very seriously, especially when they come from his Master. Far more gentle than his size and stoic face would suggest.

Fal

Though he still has high expectations of himself, he’s far more willing to take his own needs into account. Eager to be of use and make the most of his capabilities, and often pushes himself too far to please others. Much more relaxed and open, though he’s still polite and deeply respectful. Has a close relationship with F and tries to help him succeed.

Kirsch

Needy, attention-seeking, and as much of a brat as ever, but in a very different way. He’s only experienced the first steps of the abuse that would follow, so he doesn’t yet see sex as love. Mischievous without being sadistic, and without his usual vicious envy. Wants his Master’s love desperately, but in the form of cuddles and praise instead of being used.

Hokusai

As hyperactive, upbeat, and energetic as ever, but without the scattered thinking and impulsive decision-making. Incessantly cheerful and excited to be of as much use as possible. Still has his blood/red phobia, but to a far lesser and more manageable extent. Eagerly hopeful for his Master’s attention and wants to earn it in whatever way he can.

Love1

Since his gun is a faulty mess, he’s been afraid and in pain from the beginning. Far more panicky and plain because he lives in fear of his flaws being noticed. Lacks his usual faked persona and persistent sense of humor, but also doesn’t yet have the reflex to hide his needs with a Master who’s kind to him. Clings to Like2 as a “protector”.

Like2

Open about how badly he wants to be spoiled and loved. Seeks comfort and nice things in whatever way he can, and melts into any affection. Desperately wants to make himself pretty and sweet and worth being loved, but without his usual method of doing that. Cries more easily and often and admits when he’s uncomfortable or in pain.

Mauser

Sweet and eager to be of service however he can. Instead of being stoic and aggressive, he’s openly adoring of his Master and almost prefers being a lap dog over being a bodyguard. Always trying to cling to his Master’s arm or hold their hand. Responsive to praise and any kind of attention, with a precious smile whenever he’s treated kindly.

Parume

Instead of keeping up a cutesy, well-behaved front, he’s openly and happily an eager little menace who enjoys causing mischief at every chance he gets. Smug and somewhat cocky, but turns into an eager, adoring mess when with his Master. Far more trusting, without the same fear of people knowing his true self. Loves attention and feeling spoiled.

Muku

He’s still kind of not okay— in the sense that he has serious issues with emotional processing and disturbing responses to violence—, but he hasn’t reached the point of believing he deserves nothing but suffering and pain. Desperately wants kindness and affection, with no idea how to get it. Immature, mentally distant, and highly naive.

Marks

Though his personality is mostly unchanged, he’s somehow even more annoying. With no experience telling him that he can’t be near his Master constantly, he’s unbearably clingy and embarrassingly eager to please. A little less viciously protective, since he’s not yet fully aware of how many threats there are in the world. Pathetically naive.

Like Two

Lacks his usual abrasive, hot-tempered persona. Though he’s still pretty tsun, it’s more of the flustered, vaguely in denial type than the angry type. More willing to admit to his feelings, especially when he’s upset or in pain. Presents himself more femininely and isn’t as desperate to hide the things he likes. Openly needy, especially when he’s stressed.

Herme

Deeply afraid of making mistakes because of his status as a near-perfect gun. He hasn’t convinced himself he’s a lump of iron yet, so he has no mental barrier to make him think he’s flawless. He’s still calm, polite, and highly functional, but he lacks his usual ego and has very little ability to completely conceal his emotional responses. Desperate to be “good enough”.

Arisaka

Quiet and spacey, but not fully dissociating. His awful memories of his past as a weapon aren’t quite so all-consuming. Enjoys people-watching and trying to connect with others despite being terribly awkward and stiff. Clings to people who offer comfort even though he feels guilty for it. Not completely accustomed to violence and pain yet.

Springfield

His body is still weak and sickly, but the damage is nowhere near as far along. With some lingering hope of being useful to his Master, his self-esteem is slightly better. More outgoing and not as self-conscious, and eager to find ways to make even his fragile self worthwhile. Still tries to hide what’s “wrong” with him, but opens up more easily.

Siegblut

Eager to prove himself as useful and capable, without the tough-guy act to hide that. Proud of himself and his work, yet still highly responsive to praise. He willingly shows his “housewife” behavior in the hopes his skills will be recognized and admired. Nervous about if he’ll be stuck in his brother’s shadow, but lacks the assertiveness to stand up for himself.

Gras

Desperate for affection and recognition, but with no ability to control his distress when he’s rejected or disliked. Lacks his usual coping methods of violence and sex, so he’s prone to awful meltdowns instead. Highly needy and emotional, and still prone to vicious jealousy, but without the unpleasant walls to keep his surprisingly sensitive heart guarded.

Murata

Proud and proper, but far less distrustful. Affectionate and highly protective toward his Master, similar to how he behaves around Arisaka. Much more comfortable with receiving affection and care, though it still flusters him quite a bit. Happy to be relied on. Not quite as quick to resort to violence (or attempted murder) despite his temper.

Hachikyu

Much less depressed and withdrawn, though he is still prone to self-consciousness and anxious moods. Tentatively willing to reach out to people and socialize, without so much of a fear of rejection. Easily attached to those who treat him kindly. While he’s still quiet and awkward, he’s not assuming everything in his life will stay awful and unhappy.

Benetta

While he’s still serious and fairly calm, his “little gun” side shows a lot more. He’s more openly clingy with his Master, willing to seek out attention and try to stay close to their side, but he’s also a little too eager to fulfill their orders. Quiet, somewhat dense, and still naive about a lot of the world; can easily be confused by new concepts and expectations.

Carcanore

Openly blunt, aggressive, and far less cheerful. He feels out of place and worries that his Master will view him poorly, and is self-conscious because of it. Highly uncomfortable with affection and kind treatment— both because he’s not used to it, and because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. A little too willing to put his body in harm’s way if it’s of any use.

[paalove]

you asked for prompts? maybe Ayan and akk, just a little something fluffy. Akk becoming more confident in how to express his feelings and aye sometimes cant handle that, when akk just takes what he wants

even more than most of my other prompts, i mostly took inspiration from this one and ended up somewhere, just, entirely different, so the part that completely departs from the prompt is under the cut. it IS all fluff tho haha

(also on ao3!!)

...

“You’ll do great, I know it,” he tells Akk.

He doesn’t get back the stoic, “I’ll try,” he normally does before exams – Aye knows this conversation by heart, by now, so he’s got his mouth open to answer by the time he realises what Akk’s actually saying.

Cute, wide grin on his face, Akk is nodding and saying, “I think I might, yeah. I feel good about these ones!”

And, Aye’s mouth still hanging open, Akk leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

Then Akk pauses, and Aye thinks he’s decided to go in for the full routine for a second – he doesn’t often do it without Aye insisting, but considering the peppy grin and the frankly unprecedented excitement for a test it would not surprise Aye now – but instead he purses his lips jokingly, tilts his head, and places his open palm under Aye’s chin.

Feeling his mouth be tilted closed by this alien creature who has taken Akk’s place, Aye just lets it happen, blinking rapidly as he stares at the way Akk’s eyes crinkle with amusement and delight.

When he’s got Aye’s mouth closed, Akk leans in, presses a quick, closed-mouth kiss to Aye’s lips, and follows the rest of his classmates into the exam.

Most of them aren’t looking at Aye; that’s good.

It would probably be embarrassing if they saw him standing there, bewildered and flustered, because his boyfriend of over a year kissed him.

He’s just-

Since when is Akk this confident?

Before his midterms he was up almost all night, not studying so much as panicking, and Aye throwing a blanket over his head five hours before the first one was the only reason Akk got any sleep at all; walking out of those he was nearly crying.

That whole thing was so bad he changed faculties, and that was the last set of tests, so this is really, really unexpected.

As is Akk kissing him first in public like that.

Surrounded by his own classmates!

So instead of heading to a nearby café and waiting for the I’m done text, Aye parks himself on the bench right outside the room and waits, wondering.

Okay, he remembers, the tests back in school were kind of different – there was no near-crying (not from Akk, anyway) and other stuff was going on that made the crying more likely, if anything – but even back then, Akk went in with a sort of grim determination, not… this.

Akk is good in school. He used to be good at tests, too. It’s just that he pretty much always feels the weight of every expectation and possible negative consequence on him at once, all the time, and tests are things with a lot of expectations riding on them and even more possible negative consequences, and Akk has always been, just, obviously and excruciatingly aware of it.

So.

Aye’s kind of lost.

The kissing part was nice, of course, but it feeds into the whole Akk’s being weird thing because Akk does love kissing Aye, yeah, obviously, and he’s sweet and affectionate and very kissy but only with Aye and around the friends they know really well, not just… out in the open, right before a test.

He gets shy when he gets stressed!

What has happened.

The thoughts stop feeling new after a while, because tests are even longer when you’re sitting outside them waiting to end and it’s not like any of these changes are actively concerning or anything, so Aye’s actually just playing Candy Crush when the doors open to let out the first early-finisher.

He blinks, looks up, doesn’t recognise this one of Akk’s classmates; they smile at him, though, so he smiles and waves back before checking the time.

A whole hour to go.

He’s demolishing another level pretty mindlessly, still playing back the cheek kiss-chin close-mouth kiss routine in his head, when he hears a happy, “Aye!”

When Aye looks up, it’s to a couple of people Aye still doesn’t recognise making shushing motions to Akk, who loudly whispers an apology to the now-closed door.

Akk has left his exam early.

With friends.

He doesn’t look distressed about it.

Turning his phone off and shoving it in his pocket, Aye raises his eyebrows and folds his arms and says, “Come here,” then pouts his lips in only semi-exaggerated fashion, because Akk’s still trying to make a good impression on his new classmates.

The wide-eyed ‘oops, I was loud’ face Akk had been wearing melts into the fake-embarrassed sincerely-delighted smile that always has Akk’s eyes focused on the sky and Kan jeering at him – there’s no Kan here now but the tiny girl to Akk’s right laughs quietly.

In a whisper, she tells Akk, “Guess we lost you,” and both of Akk’s classmates depart with waves.

Akk walks over to Aye and stands over him, smiling.

Not standing, Aye nods to the place next to him on the bench and says, “Sit down with me.”

“Mn,” Akk replies.

He’s still smiling and it’s one of his real, truly happy ones, so Aye does quickly take a picture to make him roll his eyes before he takes hold of Akk’s chin, this time, and starts tilting his head back and forth, staring intently.

Akk tolerates it, putting a hand on Aye’s forearm and stroking up and down it but not interfering with Aye’s examination.

Eventually, though, Akk starts to giggle, and whispers, “Aye, what,” as Aye keeps looking.

“Hm?” asks Aye, still staring.

“Is there something on my face,” Akk says, pushing Aye’s hand just a little bit away.

Aye takes advantage of the motion and exaggerates its effect, falling backwards – as Akk gasps, he brings his hands up to catch Aye and pull him back in.

This gives Aye the opportunity to flip around onto his back and, more importantly, onto Akk’s lap.

“Oh,” says Akk. “I see.”

He’s laughing – probably at Aye, but whatever, Aye won that, he settles in happily and stares up at Akk from a new angle as he explains, “We aren’t leaving this bench until you,” he pokes at Akk’s chest, which is weird at this angle, “Tell me who you are and what you’ve done with my boyfriend. Akk doesn’t like exams. I get excited for exams.”

Akk probably rolls his eyes, but the nice thing about this angle is that it’s hard to tell, so Aye graciously ignores it.

Someone walks past, and Akk raises a hand to wave to them; Aye catches the hand in his own as it comes back down, and he winds their fingers together over his own chest.

“Aye,” Akk fake-sighs at him, “You literally helped me decide to switch faculties. You helped me pick Education! Didn’t you think I’d like it, Aye?”

Picking the new faculty had been… tough.

The crisis after his last Engineering exams had been real and it had been building for a while and it had been so hard for Aye to watch and to help him through, quieter and less violent than the first crisis he saw Akk in but with such strong echoes it was sometimes hard for Aye to breathe.

He’d been happy that Akk wanted to change, after all that, instead of trying desperately to bulldoze his way through; it was proof of Akk’s growth. There had been lists of pros and cons and possible options and when the final decision was made-

This isn’t the time to think about Akk softly, shyly suggesting that Teacher Dika, that Uncle Di was the kind of person he wanted to model his life on. It’s mean of Akk to bring that up right now.

But it’s so nice when Akk’s happy. He smiles like that, all wide and real and pretty, and he sounds so open and-

Aye’s sitting in the sunlight, real and metaphorical, and he’s staring at his boyfriend’s face, which is bent over him so he can, actually, look at it properly now, which is one of Aye’s favourite hobbies, okay, so it’s not his fault he forgets to answer.

But Akk laughs at him and makes a conceding, “Uh,” noise and adds, “I didn’t actually like the test, it’s still stressful. I’m just,” he sighs and tilts his face back to the sun, which is unfair to Aye, and after considering for a minute, finishes with, “Relieved. I’m happy to come out of a test and be pretty sure I did okay, after what happened a few months ago.”

“I love you,” Aye says, because even the chin which is the only part he can actually see of Akk right now is beautiful and they’re on track, things are on track, even the weird things are hopeful and good.

Because Akk’s actually a terrible boyfriend, he says, “Yeah, I know, you’re so clingy.”

Five minutes later, they’re apologising to an unimpressed professor – that good impression project of Akk’s might be a little fucked.

Oops.

[prismatoxic]

for a while now i've had this persistent idea of nate becoming soft and adoring later on, but i was never fully sure how i was supposed to reconcile that with his hair-trigger temper and violence at the start of his arc. however... i was talking to a friend the other day and it finally clicked.

after his dad leaves, nate starts learning how to be the person he thinks he's supposed to be. masculine, strong, stoic, capable... you know, all that jazz. toxic masculinity distilled down into a ten year old who's coping with abandonment. his mom gently corrects him where she can, and she knows he's a sweet kid, but to nate... being sweet and soft is part of what made his dad not want him. so he starts trying to fix it.

his mom and ryan both are the most positive forces in his life, but johnny is reinforcing his warped ideals. nate learns that he needs to act a certain way with everyone; his public persona mostly defaults to what johnny expects, however, because johnny is most likely to disapprove if nate slips. he wants to be the man his father expected. he wants to be the man johnny thinks he is. he wants to be the man his mom is worried about, that ryan is exasperated by, too--because it's just what he's come to be known for. changing now will be strange. changing now is defeat. he's at least still unguarded with his mom, but... she's learned what buttons can't be pressed. nate will still clam up and pull back emotionally if the wrong things are said.

to maintain this, nate's adopted a mantra of "fake it til you make it", but more accurately, he's got a chokehold on his inner self at all times. everything within him that threatens to step out of line from this image he maintains is heavily suppressed.

to put it bluntly, he's fucking exhausted.

spending all his time carefully analyzing himself to only let out what furthers the "correct" perception of others is fucking tiring! and what does being worn thin do to people? makes them snappy. makes them lash out. makes them irrational. but all those things are "masculine"... so they're allowed to stay.

nate is always angry because he's burnt out from ratcheting up the tension on his emotional restraints at all times. when things do slip, when he's too tired to maintain it, he gets angrier. seeing him cry is usually accompanied by screaming. sentimentality is met with annoyance. love? god. he hates it. especially because he's gay--love, for him, happens only with men, and that's the worst thing he can imagine in terms of who he's supposed to be.

but at 23, an adult with a job and his own place and his own life, nate doesn't realize that the only person who expects him to be that is himself.

sure, johnny has some ideas about it, but they've been through so much together that he'd readily forgive nate for being something else. ryan and his mom would be so proud of him. his fans wouldn't mind, nor would his coworkers, nor would anyone else he spends time with... he's the only one.

and the reason why this shift tends to happen when he falls in love isn't because love fixes him, but because letting someone into his life intimately just about forces him to start opening up. he doesn't have to, of course, and doesn't for a while, but once it starts... once he feels safe enough to let the walls down...

...they all come down.

he lets the tension go slack and can't regain control of it again. the restraints fall away and his heart is left to do as it wants. this part of him is scared, still, but when he allows himself to not worry so much about the things he feels, the things people see him feeling... he finds himself less emotionally worn. the pressure's gone, his pent up emotions now free to spread out. he doesn't feel like lashing out anymore.

he still gets angry... and he's jealous and possessive and sensitive to rejection and abandonment to the point that he sees it when it isn't there. but that hair-trigger temper, like he's always a second from snapping, is gone. he has the strength to think things through because it isn't all diverted to something else.

he's got a ways to go, even then, in terms of being healthy with his emotions and the ways he handles things. but the persistent rage, the irrationality, it's not something he struggles with anymore. he can actually start healing.

[aylaaescar]

✨🎹🎯🧊🍀

Hi!!! I'm here with a barrage of asks from the ask game!! Sorry if it's a bit too long, I got kind of carried away 💀 But anyways — these asks for Tysinno OR any other OC of your choosing, please!

omg never be sorry for asking me about Tysinno (or any other OCs) shdfjgksg he's my pride and joy, and I love all the brain blorbos dearly. ty!! 🖤

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

honest answer? I don't remember. I'm 90% sure I came up with Tysinno Maratis on the spot when I was first trying out SHOH :') it is VERY likely there is a more thorough/clear answer that I simply cannot recall, but it's been a few years. if I ever remember then I'll come back and edit this djfgk

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

several! he's very artistically inclined, for one thing - sketching and painting is his preference, and he tends to go for other people and landscapes for his subjects. think Jack Dawson from Titanic. I could see him being good at pottery if he ever gave that a try, but I don't think he has?

he also has a fondness for literature, both reading and writing. in terms of reading, he likes most anything (but has a preference for horror and adventure). in terms of writing, he's very much a poetry man.

🎯 -What do they do best?

Tysinno himself would make some bitter remark about being a doom magnet to villages of Hunters who take him in as a baby. I, Sierra, would say that it's probably following his sense of justice and doing the right thing? he's very much guided by his morals and his principles; if he sees something that isn't right, he does something, even if it's dangerous for him. the Autarchy says it's illegal to use healing magic on refugees because it's not Shepherd business? well, the Autarch isn't here now, is she?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

not really. while a lot has stayed the same (a good heart, introverted tendencies, loving cats, having an enormous guilt complex), his "first draft" counterpart wasn't a goth lol. a bit of a sunnier disposition in comparison to him being a bit glum and stoic as his current self. which isn't to say that he's gloom and doom all the time, ofc - he's just on the pessimistic side, and can get caught up in his own head. first draft Tysinno was a bit more of a stepford smiler.

also, his hair used to be shorter, and he didn't have any piercings or tattoos. that all changed when I came to the realization that he would enjoy both as forms of fashion and expression. :)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

mostly? I just wanted a softhearted, compassionate, sweet healer man for my MC. there's no lack of jerk dude heroes in stuff, and I liked the idea of playing as a guy who's sweet and empathetic, and isn't afraid to be gentle and kind. he's come out a lot gloomier and moody, like I said sdhfgjksg side effect of being the Brightburner and like. everything that comes with? but it's still there. it's why I'm so fond of him.