#anyways. please be kinder to each other

[notawomanagod]

i have many thoughts about the h fan drama that's been going on for weeks now but idk if i will even lay those out in a post since my timeline has been oversaturated with everyone's opinion and i don't really feel like adding to it at this point.

my main takeaway i guess is we don't know what someone's personal life entails and their social media presence (or lack there-of) does not always reflect who they are as a human being.

[biioniic-biiohazard]

((NOTE: i was going to keep this in tags but decided not to :3) this was such a common word and thing in 2000s to 2010s fandom spaces, especially anime fandom spaces. like you could not go to a convention or open deviantart or even tumblr without seeing at least one mention of the word- ''glomp me'' signs and shirts everywhere, cosplayers and internet friends running up to each other just to hug on sight at meets, artists online drawing and animating their ocs doing this with their friends' ocs or making bases of anime screenshots of characters doing the exact thing, getting dms and replies and comments with just a simple *glomps u* thrown in there. you would see such a specific kind of closeness and joy in these people, and frankly it upsets me deeply knowing it as a phrase and term in fandom ...is almost completely gone :( so yknow what! im glad you discovered this word! bring back glomping or whatever yknw? lets have more fun in fandom spaces and be silly together okay? :D

I just....I just learned that there's a word in the English language...for when you run into someone to hug them with all the enthusiasm and strength you have....I learned that it's called glomp.

My God, English has so many words to describe physical intimacy, I'm in love

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

[notquitecanon]

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. 

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag.  Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit. 

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went. 

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system. 

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you." 

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."  

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?" 

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch." 

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.  

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy." 

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle. 

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe. 

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up." 

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady. 

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?" 

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin.  Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked. 

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you. 

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin. 

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church? 

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it." 

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that. 

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through. 

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist. 

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.” 

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.” 

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.  

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”  

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey. 

“You barely know me, sweetheart.” 

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment. 

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.” 

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips. 

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features. 

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.” 

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head.  You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.” 

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.   

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless.  Two sides of a balanced scale.  

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

[uncle-fruity]

HEY! HEY, YOU! YEAH! YOU!

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Your friends aren't your therapists"?

If you've been on the internet enough, I think it's a sentiment that's pretty difficult to miss.

But you know what that means, right?

It's meant to warn people not to place too much personal baggage onto their friends when they should be unpacking it with a professional. It's to say that venting to your friends shouldn't be your main source of coping. That is to say: most of your friends are probably unqualified to untangle complex emotional & mental health problems, and if you expect them to endlessly listen to your problems & have them help "fix" you, then that's usually going to end up in stress and tension in your relationship (or worse).

Do you know what "Your friends aren't your therapists" DOESN'T mean?

It DOESN'T mean that you shouldn't ever seek any emotional support from your friends or that you should keep all your problems to yourself.

Yes, it's important to establish boundaries in all your relationships. If there's something you'd rather not hear from your friends (and vice versa) that should be talked about if it ever becomes relevant. If your friend is easily overwhelmed by a lot of emotion/stimulus, then you shouldn't dump serious emotional things without checking in to see if it's okay first. Over time, in a healthy communicative relationship, you get a feel for what's okay and what's not.

But goodness fucking me when I see folks say that they don't deserve to express their harder emotions because "friends aren't your therapists" I just... I mean woof y'all!

What kind of friend is a friend that doesn't care if you're upset? What kind of friend sees you struggling with something and tells you to deal with your own problems because they don't owe you anything? What kind of friend comes around only if you hide your pain at all times?

A fair-weather friend, that's what kind. A friend that's only around for the good times, and goes away during (metaphorical) storms.

If someone only wants to be a fair-weather friend, that's their prerogative. But I'm telling you all that you deserve the kind of friendship where your friends actually give a fuck about you. You deserve to take up space sometimes. You deserve to get heavy things off your chest with someone you love and trust.

If you want better, stronger, healthier friendships, it's important to understand that intimacy is about Knowing and Seeing and Experiencing someone authentically. Taking off whatever mask we wear to get through the world and being ourselves and sharing that with another person. Anger, pain, grief... tackling these issues with each other builds trust and intimacy and makes everyone involved feel more important & needed & cared about. Isn't that what all this is for?

Anyway, this is all to say: be open about your emotions. Communicate with your friends (& tbh in all your relationships). Learn each other's boundaries, but don't shut each other out just because emotions are scary to navigate at times.

Please be kinder to yourself. Seek intimate friendships, AND seek professional help when you need more support than your friends can provide. Just don't assume your friends can't give you any support! Assume that they love you and trust that they will tell you if they're at their limit. And if they *are* at their limit or if they just aren't comfortable with some conversations, respect that & don't try to force it onto them.

This has been a PSA. Thank you.

[anemoiashifts]

what your s/o wants you to know, pick an object reading !

please pick one of the jelly cats above ! ⋆.˚

note !! if reading doesn’t resonate, that’s okay !! please don’t force yourself to make it fit. there will be other readings :)

also thank you to everyone who voted on my poll for what type of reading. if the one you voted for didn’t win, im probably going to end up doing all of them anyways so don’t worry. the next one being a pick an item reading from your desired reality self. id like do maybe do something like month shifting readings at the top of each month ? maybe ?? ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

✦

bashful lilac bunny ! ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

songs : vampire by olivia rodrigo, wait for life by lana del rey & emile haynie, fvck somebody by the wrecks.

this person has the tendency to irresponsible at times & jump to conclusions irrationally. however, they work best in teams & loves the work that they do. some jobs this person could have is a private investigator or work in law; someone who likes to take care of people. because of this persons work they may struggle with negative thinking & could have a lot of spiritual baggage. your presence grounds them & allows some normalcy. you & this person will unfortunately go through a lot of grieving & hardships together. it’s giving the vibe of something similar to enemies to lovers or on again / off again. when things are good, they’re great ! but things are bad, they’re bad. despite opposing views at times, you both strive for comfort.

this person wants you to care about yourself more. not just a skin care routine or repeating positive affirmations but learning to accept yourself & being kinder to yourself without judgement. you tend to strive when in confidence regarding every area — self image, performance, how you carry yourself. your confidence & self improvement is why this person is most attracted to you.

✦

smudge hippo ! ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

songs : my hair by ariana grande, my love all mine mitski, consume by chase atlantic.

this person loves you. like looooves you. they think you’d be a good parent & would want to start a family with you if possible. you both are very caring & nurturing to one another & balance one another very well. this person has a lot of patience & emotional strength. they want you to know all your efforts will pay off. they think you have a lack of focus & believe you are suffering to attempt to shift because you see shifting meditations or exercises as boring. your person knows that if you could skip to being in your dr — you would. this person wants you to realize sometimes taking the time to nurture your desires & our some action to them can help your manifestations grow.

your s/o wants you to have more structure & discipline. to create some goals that are outside of shifting so you can stop seeing the process of shifting as tiring & a chore & get excited about it again.

✦

lavender dragon ! ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

i just want to preface, this specific reading for group number three / lavender dragon looks a littleeee different from the previous. this pile & re-pulling of cards for clarification has circled back to money over & over. im going to go off track & also include some things that your s/o may want to let you know in regardless to this / what this could mean.

songs : king of everything by madison beer , mind over matter by young the elephant, hometown by twenty one pilots, i saw you in a dream by the japanese house.

this person wants to remind you that “everything happens for a reason”. they could’ve had to work their way up to the top & can sometimes burry themselves into their work. they can get a little standoffish & as a result your relationship with them could be a little codependent at times. they want you to break away from that aspect of your relationship with them that can definitely bleed into how you view them here. you have a tendency to lose yourself in others & sacrifice parts of yourself to please them & this person doesn’t want to see you change completely to appease them — they like you for you. you tend to get lost in the fantasy aspect of it all. thinking of what shifting could be instead of reflecting & looking at what works for you vs what doesn’t. “there is a time & a place for everything”.

you could be facing some struggles here that incorporate money in some way. maybe you’re in between jobs or are struggling financially right now ? it could just be a situation you are in that has a larger price tag: starting college, purchasing a car, etc. your dr s/o wants to remind you new beginnings in this reality will come & your financial situation will improve. this could also apply to your desired reality, maybe you both are tight on money atm. i didn’t get any clear clarifications despite efforts so i suppose this is something only for you to know the answer to or something that is supposed to be a mystery. for some of you that may resonate while others it may not. however, why i included this is the messaging of having things going on in this reality that could deserve attention here. shifting will always be here, while life here is fleeting, is the vibe im picking up for this last group.

✦

thank you for reading !! :) i hope you were able to take something away from it. 🤍🤍

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

What Are You Too Hard On Yourself About?

So my camera that I usually take pictures with is not accessible rn so I'm going to be using a different approach to doing pick-a-pile readings. I'm taking inspiration from other tarot readers on tumblr and use aesthetic photos that I find on pinterest and tumblr. let me know if yall like this more than the photo approach!

PILE ONE

Astrology: Virgo, Capricorn, Leo

Cards: The Wheel of Fortune, The Tower, King of Pentacles, En Caul

Song: Queen Of This Shit by Quay Dash

Vibes: ❤️🎂🚗🫖🥊☕️🍎🎲🎸🎹🍒🚑🍅⏰🍉✉️🍓🤍🌶.⚾️🥩🍰

Hello, pile 1! You seem to be hard on yourself for things that aren't even your fault, my friend. I think when you were young a lot of things were blamed on you so now you take responsibility when anything tragic happens. The thing about you is you are the one person that holds together the best in tragedy. It's only after it's all happened that you start feeling like you are to blame. You are not the cause of the wheel turning. Life is a series of up's and down's on the wheel of fortune. I hear you saying things to yourself like "I'm better off not being around" but my friend the wheel would still turn if you weren't. You being in the general vicinity does not make you at fault. You keep the ride on that wheel semi-stable, my dear. Please be kinder to yourself. You are so intelligent and you have the abilities of a seer. You know what to expect from the rollercoaster that life is and you are fantastic at preparing for it. Do not beat yourself up for existing. Do not beat yourself up for making simple mistakes. Accept yourself at every part of life. Love yourself at your best AND your worst.

PILE TWO

Astrology: Pisces, Gemini, Libra

Cards: The Hanged-Man, Page of Swords, Two of Cups, Lady of the Lake

Song: I Wish I Never Met You by Oh Wonder

Vibes: 💙❤️🦋🌹❄️💥🫐🍒💎🧲🧿🪓🌀🧯♿️🧰💦🍄🐳🎒🧢👠🧵🧣🌎

Hi, pile 2! You are hard on yourself for 2 things that work in tandem with each other. You either really struggle to find partners or you struggle to build romantic connections with the sexual partners you find. You have a very pixie-like energy which makes me think this is rooted in ADHD. You get extremely distracted by your interests and your experiences. This makes it difficult for you to find romance with anyone. The people you find connections with don't understand that you need patience and understanding. They don't understand that your ADHD isn't just a disability. Your ADHD is a PART of you and if they can't accept and love your ADHD along with you, they don't even deserve your attention and love anyway. I see that there is trauma connected to you feeling useful. Because you have been rejected for the way your mind works you think all you are good at is sex. You have fallen victim to people-pleasing behaviors all because you are allowing people to shit on an entire facet of your personality. Please stand up for yourself instead of being hard on yourself for how others view you. Their opinions do not matter if they constantly put you into a state of distress and self-hatred. Do not beat yourself up because of other people's ableism. You deserve a lover that understands you and accepts every part of you. When you finally stand up for yourself you will have completed a really tough cycle and your new energy will reward you greatly with a true romantic partner that will most likely be sticking around longer than the others.

PILE THREE

Astrology: Taurus, Sagittarius, Aries

Cards: The Empress, Strength, 8 of Wands, The Rainbow

Song: No Drug Like Me by Carly Rae Jepsen

Vibes: 💛🎺🏅🐝🐱👑👙🍯🥧🥞🧀🌸🍋🍌☀️💫⚡️✨🌻🌼💐🕯💰🛍

Hey there pile 3. Your energy is so light but somehow very rich as well. You have such a lovely energy that people love to be in. This can be a blessing and a curse for you. This is because you aren't too attached to anything or anyone. You are the type of person who people get addicted to but you often leave as quickly as you arrived. You are too hard on yourself about how this makes people feel. You feel as if you have left a string of broken hearts behind you. I see you feeling very guilty because of this. Don't be harsh with yourself about your true nature. You need room to travel from person to person. You aren't the kind of individual to get attached to concepts you experience as temporary. Human connection isn't meant to be permanent for you anyway. You shouldn't try to save feelings by moving away from your authenticity. You are meant to be independent and follow your heart where the wind takes it. Let the broken hearts leave your mind. Let the guilt slide off of you like water off a duck's back. Those people will find new beginnings with people who are meant to settle down. You will forever be a free spirit. If you tried to tie yourself down out of a sense of guilt it wouldn't end well for anyone. Your authenticity should be your main priority, not saving the emotions of people who have paths to walk you can't follow. What they think about you doesn't matter if it's your time to dip again.

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Scorpio, Cancer, Aquarius

Cards: The Hanged Man, 2 of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, Cosmic Ocean

Song: Greener by Kid Quill

Vibes: 💚🤎🐸🦇🪲🦂🍀����🥝🥥🍈🍹🧩🛖✅⚰️♻️🧺🇵🇸🚪🤑🪑💸🕯📗

Hey there, pile 4! You need to be easier on yourself for your indecisiveness, my friend. You are a very interesting combination of compassionate and intelligent. This is what makes it so hard for you to make decisions fast. It's not that you are bad at making decisions. You are smart enough to consider the different paths that could happen when making a decision. You understand that your actions have consequences and you can predict them very accurately. You are also kind enough to consider how those consequences affect the people around you. You are actually REALLY good at making decisions but it takes time to consider all of the possibilities. People have given you a hard time about indecisiveness for a long time but that's because they can't see the gears turning in your head. They don't see that you see every possibility. They can't even fathom the experience because most of the people giving you a hard time are only thinking logically or are only thinking compassionately but you see both perspectives which gives you more intel to contemplate. Be a bit nicer to yourself when you make decisions slowly. The people critiquing you don't even know the half of it.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

[Please read while listening to this.]

IF THERE WERE TRUTH IN REINCARNATION, you would beg to be reborn as a kitten. A cherished kitten who was allowed to sit on a human's lap whenever looking for warmth. Perhaps if people saw you as a nice, furry creature acting cute, they wouldn't hurt you. Perhaps if they thought of you as a creature simpler to understand, they wouldn't abandon you.

Being a human child is weary work. They say you were created from the proof of love between two inseparable people; your very breath is a testament to their unbreakable union. And your identity is sculpted by the undeniable beauty they believed the world possessed, compelling them to bring forth new life to share in the splendor of it all.

So, who are you now after they've parted ways? Father was no longer just your father; he had formed a new family with another two daughters as evidence of his love for a woman who wasn't your mother. You are no longer his favorite, and surely you are not the only one. Meanwhile, Mother is only left as a vengeful woman, reacting with anger each time she glimpses traces of your father in you—in your words, mannerisms, or even thoughts. Any divergence from her own beliefs, she considers defiance.

(Didn't you say, I am proof of their love? Don't you know, that promises can be broken and roots can be severed. Marriage should be forever until it isn't. Then, who am I if they are no longer love each other?)

The pitiful child of man shuffled through the world; full of despair, without self-identity. Not daddy's little girl, no longer a copy of mommy. The soft hair that was once braided was more like a tapestry full of wounds piled up early on. However, no one knows this – they say, “What do little children know about adult problems?” and yet, your body ended up bleeding internally from continuously swallowing the thorns spit out by your two originators.

Forced to grow—my spine wasn't developed enough to be your pillars! Mature little girl.

If reincarnation is true, then, you hope to be placed in a kinder world. A place where happiness is within reach—where you will always be embraced by love. So you don't have to scavenge looking for it in everything.

In a kiss offered by a stranger.

The tea lies long abandoned on the coffee table, gone cold hours ago. Yet, the taste still lingers on his lips – bergamot and spice mingling with something uniquely him. Your eyes were tightly closed, but you could feel the warmth radiating from his approaching body. He places a hand under your chin to tilt your face, and he slides his tongue in with practiced ease. You breathe in his aroma deeply, and a thin cloud falls over your consciousness.

Simon kissed with quiet intensity, giving you the impression that it wasn't his first time. It doesn't matter; you already lost your first kiss to your high school crush anyway. But, when compared, this is nothing like the chaste, fleeting peck bestowed by Billy Thompson behind bleachers in junior year. That was a schoolgirl's kiss. This? This sets your blood ablaze.

Laid bare, you are. With your pleading love-me eyes—the gaping mouth of a virgin begging for someone to pour love into it until it hits the back of her throat, swallowed without a trace – “let me wash my esophagus with this. So that my future lovers don't find out how unlovable I am.” Some sort of ablution. And Simon becomes the all-compassionate man, volunteering for a play where he acts as your lover.

His tongue brushes against yours—a clumsy dance of your inexperience. But Simon took the lead, coaxing your shy response. Your hands crept up and clutched the sleeve of his leather jacket. As he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, warmth pooled in your lower abdomen.

This, you realize dimly, is what fills the pages of your well-worn romance books—passionate kisses and warm breaths mingling with each other. One difference is your lack of love for each other. It doesn't matter; after all, lust is a cheap substitute for love, just as searing.

(Starving people eat anything, right?)

When Simon put his big hands on your waist, you gasped and pushed him away. His brows were furrowed in confusion, but his eyes were waiting for you. Your cheeks reddened as you avoided his gaze.

“S-sorry…”

Simon watched patiently, his hands hovering but not crowding. A thought occurred to you—clumsy and awkward as you felt. You bit the inside of your cheek as you gathered your courage.

“I should, um, find...” Your voice fell to a whisper. "Contraception."

He just nodded, his expression carefully schooled. You got up from the couch, knees shaking, trying to ignore the embarrassing damp sensation between your legs, and ran towards the bedroom like a frightened doe.

As you searched through the dresser, you stumbled upon a sealed box beneath a pile of clothes. In a rush, you pulled out the box with fumbling fingers, barely managing to keep it from slipping from your grip. A small foil wrapper—a precaution purchased on a whim, “just in case” some imagined future occasion arose. Little did you know, that occasion would be this night with this stranger turned companion.

Through the door, you hear Simon's gentle footfalls approaching. Your heart threatens to jump from the confines of your ribs. Turning, you found him waiting for you, sitting at the end of the bed, pink sheets against his dark leather jacket.

Suddenly, the tiny foil packet feels heavy and itchy around your fingers. Gathering what little courage you have, you approach on unsteady legs and perch beside him, close but not quite touching. Your gaze was still on the carpet patterns, which looked strangely more interesting, while your hand reached out to hand him the small square.

Simon's eyes fell on the foil packet, staring at it like it was a foreign object. He looked up at you.

“You ever done this before?”

Your cheeks flushed with renewed shame at his question. “No, I haven't.”

The quiet confession hangs heavy in the air. You wait for him to take that little packet from you—part of you expects him to take advantage of your inexperience. Is that not what men do when presented with a willing body and an opportunity? A chance to take the lead, to act like they know everything—taking it from a girl and then going home to brag off to their equally asshole friends. As if their cocks were that great to be able to change a woman with just a few thrusts.

And while this may seem unjust, you can't help but generalize the rough types that frequent bars like the one you've both visited. Subconsciously, you make the same assumption about Simon.

But, he proved himself to be different. He confounds your expectations and judgment at every turn. Calming softness is the last thing you would expect from a hardened soldier like him. He has mapped every opening, joint, and gap in you that he may exploit against you—

And yet, when anyone else would seize the opportunity for easy pleasure, he pulls back, lost in his own thoughts that you can't begin to understand.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Might be better, your first time… if it's with someone important. Someone who'll treat you right."

"It's just sex."

Before you can stop yourself, the words escape your lips in a feeble attempt to contain the raging tempest of feelings inside. But even as you say that, you know in your heart it's not true. From the time you were a teenage girl singing cheesy songs and poring over fairytales, you've dreamed that your first time would be with a lover—someone you truly cared about, someone who dedicated their body to you out of love rather than simply lust. You’ve imagined yourself on your wedding night, sealing your bond in the most sacred ways.

Foolish, romantic notions, like a fragile dream, you know. And some small, still-hopeful part of you holds onto that fantasy, hoping it will come true. But that too erodes with time, evaporating more and farther from your grip until you are forced to settle for something within your reach. Desperation drives the unthinkable, right?

Another wave of silence between you. Simon hung his head low before taking the foil packet from your curled fingers. The bed creaks softly as he rises to tower over you. His strong hands are bracing the mattress on either side of you, caging in but not touching. Your heartbeat forms an accelerando as you hold your breath, peering up at him through your lashes to take in every detail you could in this dark room.

“Last chance, darling,” he rasps, searching your eyes. “Once we start, there's no taking it back.”

When he speaks, his breath washes hotly over your lips, and the gravel in his voice makes your insides clench. Supported only the dim light of the moon through the window for illumination, the lean muscles under his jacket looked more defined, and those irises seemed to darken with promise and more enigma.

You swallowed to relieve the sudden dryness in your throat. He's so hard to decode, and a small voice warns you not to mess with something you don't understand.

Something born of desperation takes hold of you. Before your courage fails you, you reach up to trace fingers along his stubbled jaw, feeling his muscles stiffen under your touch. Your lips came closer and pressed against his as a plea and answer. Heat floods your veins at the contact. Simon paused over you, letting you set the pace as your mouths moved together. His hands gently massaged the fat on your thighs, following the curve of your hips.

Simon's hands find purchase on your waist, thumbs tracing idle circles coaxing soft sighs from your lips. He deepens the kiss, and you follow gladly, clinging to his broad shoulders as he leans you back on the bed. Your heart is pounding wildly. He drags his lips to plant kisses, molding your body perfectly to his solid form.

Before he even stripped your clothes off, you already felt exposed in front of him. Your body isn't good with secrets; when he marks your pulse point with gentle suckles, you tangle your fingers in his dark blonde strands. His mouth ignited a flame against your flesh.

Some small, rational part of your mind screams this is madness. What will Mother say, when she finds yourself lost in the arms of a stranger, giving yourself so freely? “A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing!” she kept repeating. But you're only borrowing this man's body and tonight, not his heart.

As Simon straightens above you, his hand flies to your jeans button with intent. Shyness overcame you in a sudden wave. “I-I'll do it,” you stuttered in a small voice, your cheeks burning.

Without waiting for his response, you sit up enough to fumble with the stubborn button with trembling fingers. Stupid pants. Why does it have to be difficult when you're desperate to shed these last few barriers between you? Sweaty fingers are slipping clumsily. Frustrated, you curse under your breath, the haste making your efforts futile.

A lifetime seems to pass before your buttons are finally free. Peeking through the gap, the plain white cotton is visible, trimmed with a small white satin ribbon at the waistband. Shit. If only you had known what tonight held in store, you'd have definitely chosen something lacier, sexier to match the mood.

Though, Simon didn't give any reaction other than maintaining his steady gaze at you. You again try to wiggle and squirm against the denim down your legs. Come on, come on, don't ruin the mood-

Before you could protest, his hand replaced yours. Large and sure, they grip your waist to guide you to lie down once again as he tugs the jeans free in one smooth motion. The denim hits the floor with a careless toss, leaving you with your top and the flimsy barrier that you put on without thinking. Instinctively, you squeeze your thighs together, acutely aware of your condition beneath his stare.

“Please don't look,” you plead shyly.

“Why?”

The single word rumbles out gruff, without judgment—too flat to contain one. He asked that in pure curiosity while continuing to stare at you.

“It's… embarrassing.” Your voice was small, almost a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

In truth, you feel naked in more ways than one. Between your legs, a dark spot has formed where your arousal has bled through the fabric and how it might disgust him. Your breasts feel heavy and sensitive where they strain against your bra. Every nerve is alive—hyper-focused on every minuscule movement and warm breath between you. It only took one touch from him to dissolve any remaining control.

The silence stretches while Simon is on his own agenda, studying you in considerations you don't understand.

“You want to stop, then?”

Simon's question sent a shot of panic through you. Stop now, even though you've just lost yourself in the sensation? When this man is the only person who can offer you the only scrap of comfort and care that you will never find again?

You shook your head vigorously. “No, please… don't stop.”

It was so embarrassing how your voice came out small and ragged—full of pleading for him not to lift his warm touch on your skin. To send him away from your bed now would be to return to the cold emptiness that has become your constant companion. He has seen half of you; might as well completely strip yourself for him and lose these foolish inhibitions. It seems that you too have no idea what moderation is; it was always all or nothing.

“Can’t reach your pretty cunny with your legs clenched shut, darling,”

Simon's coarse words spread a new flame to flare up in your cheeks. Your core feels wetter and throbbing than before, and you swallow thickly in morification.

Before you can think further, his thick thighs part your own with gentle insistence. You let out a small gasp. The stupid, girlish white panties were exposed to his view. But he makes no move to touch, merely hums his approval.

A sharp breath penetrated your lungs as he dragged his fingers to trace the outline of your cunt through the fabric. He pressed his thumb against your folds and slipped in. Under his caresses, you writhe and grab the sheets, your hips lifting in an instinctive need for greater friction. He spreads your slick flesh.

You barely register anything when he positions his face in front of your panties. Then, he leans in, nuzzling his nose against the damp barrier. Panicking, you clamp your thighs together on instinct to deprive him of access.

“Wait!” you gasp. “That's… it's dirty.”

Simon looked up from down there, at you as if he didn't comprehend what you'd just said. The soft light of the moon cast a silver hue on his blonde eyelashes, making them resemble the feathers of a Greek goddess's wings. His gaze, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, penetrating through your feeble objections. They see beyond your meager resistance, straight into your deepest desires.

Color rose in your cheeks, but the dimness of the room made them blend seamlessly with the background. You bit your swollen lip, not sure if you should ask him to stop completely and pull back to spare you the vulnerability or continue the treatment.

Without a word, he placed his big hands on your hips. You watched him grasp the waistbands of your panties before dragging it down to pool at your ankles. The fresh air caressing your newfound nudity sends chills down your spine. Another tug, and the scrap of fabric joins your discarded clothes on the floor.

Now, you're lying there with evidence of your undisguised arousal—sticky, glistening liquid from his touch in the past few minutes. Evidence of your pathetic desires.

Some small, rational part of you wants to flee, to cover yourself with anything. To ruin everything by saying that this was all a mistake—that now that you think about it, you don't want it anymore. That it's not too late, there's still time before he makes engravings on your walls with his pen like a stamp.

But that other part of you—Goodness.

And unfortunately for your liar side, that's the part Simon focuses on.

A cry escapes your lips when Simon returns his committed mouth between your thighs, granting your latter wish. He brushes his lips against your swollen flesh, making your back arch helplessly off the bed. Your legs fall open of their own accord. He wastes no time to delve deeper, lapping eargerly at your dripping slit. Each flick of his tongue broke one by one the chains confining your control, drawing out more sweet moans that made his jeans tighten even more from the aching hardness that was growing inside.

When his lips close around your swollen clit, you gasp, fingers curling around the bed sheet. Your body wriggled and trembled beneath him but Simon remained unperturbed. His blonde head was steadfast, focused solely on his devotion to pleasuring you.

You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter as he continues to lavish your weeping cunt. Incoherent noises spill from your lips – gasps and whimpers and cries escape without restraint. He pins your hips down and grips your thighs to keep them wide open.

“Simon… I… oh God…”

Tangles are created in your sheets as your fingers continue to twist them desperately in a tight grip. Every nerve alive and hyper-focused on the sensations his tongue continued to convey. Your pulsing walls close together as low pressure builds in your stomach.

“Si-Simon! I feel strange, I—oh!”

A wave of heat rolls from your lower stomach as your muscles clench and spasm uncontrollably. Your thighs quiver—you cover your face from the overwhelming sensation. White spots dance in your vision. Some dam has broken deep inside you, and you fall, fall, fall as a tear slips down your flushed cheek. Warm essence flowed freely towards his tongue, and he tasted it against the walls of his palate. His lips were wet, but Simon licked the remainder like a man long seized of water.

The room feels impossibly still and quiet. Only the sound of your mingled breaths and your racing heartbeat fill the humid air. You keep your flushed face covered. Now that the haze has cleared, your mind is swirling with shame and uncertainty again.

How do you deal with him now that he has buried his tongue in your cunt? The sticky mess between your thighs reminds you that he has brought you to the peak of ecstasy with just his hands and mouth. Nonetheless, your taut nipples and the pounding in your ears indicate that, despite everything, you still want more.

The whisper of fabric is heard as Simon shifts. You peer through your fingers to find him leaning over you, calloused hands gently pulling your palm away.

“You alright?”

The question, however gentle and well-intentioned, caused your skin to heat up in discomfort. You can't help but feel embarrassed—as if he sees you as some fragile thing, needing reassurance after every little touch. As if you're a mess, a tiny bird that soars too and falls, making sympathy his default emotion whenever he looks at you.

It makes you think about all the other women he must have been with, how he must have touched them in the same way he was touching you now. Those who are nothing like you. Those who understand their own desires and a man's. Those who could lose themselves for hours in passion, their stunning hips swinging above him as his hands glide along their curves without hesitation or restraint. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth—bitter and almost envious.

All the women around him, and unfortunately Simon has to settle with you tonight. A shy woman, unsure of her own identity.

Something has narrowed in your chest. Your lungs feel heavy as you breathe in, like an anchor is binding it to the bottom of your soul. But, you manage to give him a nod. And before your stupid mouth ruin everything, you surge up to capture his hungry lips with your own. Your arms snaked around his neck to bring his body closer to yours.

“How do they do it, those who make love without love?” you often ask. The first time you wonder about this, you compare it to building a house without a foundation. Impossible. It's like writing without words or dancing without music.

But as you sink beneath his bulky frame—as Simon lifts your legs to wrap around his hips and grinds his hardness against your cunt, drawing a moan from you and feeling the roughness of his jeans against your swollen folds—you begin to understand that it's possible. Those who make love without love simply need to possess the desire—a determined, tenacious grip on something.

As your teeth collided, the kisses grew more passionate and frenzied; it was unclear who was feeding off whom's hunger. His hips rolled into you. Tongues tangled together in an unrehearsed dance that ignites sparks coursing through your veins. He nibbles your bottom lip, and you moan into his mouth.

Reeling for breath, you turned away, only to give Simon the opportunity to nib on your jaw and trace kisses down your neck. His hand slid under your shirt, creeping up your ribs to cup your breast.

When he reaches the delicate shell of your ear, he closes his teeth gently around the lobe and tugs. You cry out at the sharp pain mixed with pleasure. His busy hands kneaded your breasts, twisting your erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He slides the other down your belly and stops to cup your cunt. You gasp and buck against his hand as he starts circling your clit lazily, dragging two fingers up and down, coating it with another wave of your essence.

“Off… take it off.” You mutter without thinking.

Simon understands your breathless demand. Kneeling between your thighs, he makes quick work of his leather jacket, tossing it without a care for the floor. You watch him take off his shirt, muscles rippling as he grasps the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Your weathered heart, fluent with wounds and what is left behind in its wake. However, when the covering is removed, you're not prepared for the sight revealed to your eyes. His body—Simon's body. His chest was a masterpiece of defined muscle, and his abs were chiseled as if they were as solid as granite. The trail of blonde hair leads temptingly below the waist of his jeans.

It was the map of scars on his flesh that drew your attention. Pale lines, both thin and thick, had claimed their places, like the constellations he carried as proof that he had been hurt and survived. All his close calls, markings of victory—there were people who wanted him dead, but he lived to tell the story.

Still, in the dim light of the room, one scar seems strikingly different from the others.

A long, deep gash curves gracefully around one side of his ribs, which have healed into a thick rope of knotted flesh. You wonder about its possible origins—some accident, perhaps, working with tools or machinery gone wrong. Another one of his secrets you're not deemed worthy for him to share with.

Seeking to regain some composure, you grasp the hem of your sweater and draw it over your head. The only thing left on you was the white bra.

He observes your body with a careful scan before meeting your gaze once more. Leaning down, he captured your lips in his parted ones, renewing the kiss. You lifted your back slightly to make way for one of his hands. He fumbled with the small hook before releasing it, freeing your breasts in relief.

Simon cupped your breasts, fingers fully rounded and exploring freely now with more access. You let out another moan. He inserted your breast into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue dancing around it as he gently sucked. You arched against his body, pressing your chest against his.

He releases your swollen nipple with a tiny pop sound. You watched as Simon rose to his knees, eyes never leaving your form as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small foil packet you gave him earlier. Placing the square between his teeth, he reaches down to unzip his jeans. Your breath hitches in anticipation.

But to your secret dismay, the jeans stay on, shielding his thighs and underneath from view. Hope dissipates from your heart – a foolish, unfathomable melancholy seeps in through the empty rooms. As you watch him tear the packet open with his teeth and roll the condom down his length, you try to tell yourself that you have no rights—that this means nothing to him as it does to you. That this is merely your way of finding pleasure in each other until morning calls.

Yet, the disparity between you weighs heavily, as he has seen every intimate part of you, and you're still denied some access to him.

As Simon finishes rolling on the condom, your thoughts become detached. Desperate for a distraction—comfort, you stretch out your arms in invitation. He accepts your wordless plea, diving into your embrace and covering your mouth with his own as he slowly presses his cock forward. You feel the stretch and burn; your walls have been breached to accommodate his large size. The foreign fullness—the pulsing sensation of having a man fill you so completely��draws a quiet gasp from you.

Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You felt him take a shuddering inhale. He started to move slowly, the stretch and burn of your walls parting further. Your breath comes short and sharp as tears prick the corners of your eyes from the sting of it.

“Too much? Want me to go easy?”

The question that leaves his lips tugs at the feet of your heart. And you believe that's how unlovable people behave—the urge to keep searching, to lick it even from the tip of a knife. The urge to see where it was never present.

You know he only shows concern for you to continue bringing him pleasure. Yet, some part of your traitorous, fickle heart, swells. The conviction that there is something worth feeling, something flickering in the distance—timidly but surely blooming, waiting to be discovered.

(Butterflies take flight in my belly. My heart has learned to feast on even the driest of breads.)

“No… keep going,” you rasp.

So, you cling to him tighter, urging him on despite the ache, because having him move within you is the closest you'll come to an embrace—to a cheap substitute for love. Let me drown; let his touch envelop my body – to become both his refugee and prisoner. Let me lose myself in this illusion, for it is all I have.

Simon pushed himself in further. You bit your bottom lip feeling him against your walls; your blunt nails create half-moons into his flexing back and shoulders. The burning feeling is emphasized before gradually disappearing and is replaced by pleasure. You threw your head back against the pillow as he slowly sped up his thrusts, bringing your hips to meet his.

A broken gasp escapes your lips when he slightly changes his angle and slams back in. His name was uttered in the lewdest sounds—gasoline on the fire of his lust, creating another wave of vigor to slide his cock in and out of your weeping hole.

Silhouette was created when he straightened his back, blocking out the moonlight. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he continued to deliver controlled thrusts. You watched the sweat slide slickly down the cords of his neck. He gripped your hips before pulling out. You whimpered at the empty ache. But, before you can protest, he slams in the angry crown and fills you to the hilt in one deep thrust.

The mirror at the end of the room has steamed over from the heat. Simon places his large hand firmly on your lower belly, pinning you down in place. He brought his other hand to rub circles over your swollen clit. Your lips form a perfect 'O' as you gasp.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you follow the outline of his collarbone, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin. The sound of flesh slapping flesh was accompanied by mingled cries and moans. You turn your face into the pillow, watching how the sheets tangle and crumple around your desperate fingers. Simon quickened the roll of his hips; the bed squeaked with each one.

 “Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon! I’m—!”

Your body trembles as unbridled moans escape from your failing lips. He pushes your stomach farther in while continuing to piston his hips. Your breasts bounce and sway; sweat covers taut, flushed nipples. He rammed his fat cock into you so hard that it caused you to boil and surrounded your messed-up brain with smoke.

“You close for me, darling? Gonna come all over my cock?”

Your cunt throbs from his breathy voice. Brows furrowed, lips parted around gasps and sighs. The lacrimal glands swell. Every inch of your senses is narrowed into hyper-awareness, with focus scattered all over and your thighs trembling uncontrollably. The white spots on your brain are spreading. His thrusts became sloppier as his hips stutter. Your stomach tightened, velvety walls pulsing around his twitching length until Simon buried his face in your shoulder.

A litany of curses and praise fell from his lips. His cock flooded in scalding heat of your slick juices mixed with his climax. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, trying to stabilize your ragged breathing and regather reality.

While your brain recovers, you stare at the boring ceiling of your room. The heaviness in your limbs and sore muscles replace the last waves of pleasure. Your mind wandered aimlessly, half-aware that you were still clinging to him.

Simon rose, drawing his body away from yours. He pulled out his cock, and the emptiness suddenly felt foreign. You observe drowsily as he stands on his knees to fix his trousers – his movements appear hurried now, as he no longer needs to linger after having taken his pleasure. Feeling exhausted, you lay motionless.

“You good?” he asked, looking at you.

You gave him a weak nod. “M’alright… just sleepy,” you mumble, biting your lip.

For a second, something flickered in Simon's eyes—something akin to tenderness. But it's gone as quickly as it came, and in your current condition, you're not a competent witness either. Maybe it's just a reflection of your desire for him to stay, to hold you one more night, and to leave in the morning. Too involved, too risky.

That wasn't the deal, you know.

And you also know that you've always been bad at letting go, of your habit to cling fiercely to what you love until your marks are ingrained upon them. You loathed the cold room now that he had detached himself from you. But it would be selfish beyond measure to ask him to stay, to shower your desperate wounds with his kisses as gently as he did when he was still under the spell of lust. You couldn't drag anyone along with you. It would be unfair, even cruel. You couldn't do that, not to Simon.

You turn to your side and pull the blanket over your naked form. Shutting your eyes, you tried to fight the dull ache rising in your chest.

“You can go,” you mutter.

Simon stood silent for a moment, his agreement given in silence. The mattress groaned softly as he shifted his weight. You heard him finish getting dressed, followed by the soft, steady padding of his footsteps against the floor. Each step takes him further from the bed. You heard the sound of the door knob turning and the door swinging open, allowing a sliver of light from the hallway to peek through the gap before it continued to narrow and darkness returned.

Then comes the click of the door as it fully closes, and you're all alone again.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[milkywaydrabbles]

just read your latest kinktober!! so gooood 😫!! if you could pretty please do #21 with hanma shuji, sanzu, and the haitani brothers!

A/N: No on fucking look at me, I was not expecting this to end up being 3.3k and yet somehow...omg. Sorry for the demon that posessed me. This is pure filth, probably had more fun writing this than I should have but I hope you love it bc I do. Enjoy, mwuah

Threesome or Moresome x Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou, Ran

It was no surprise that the executives of Bonten did not like sharing. They didn’t like sharing their seats in the meetings (there were no fucking assigned seats), they didn’t like sharing their women (literally sex workers doing their jobs with whoever paid them), they didn’t like sharing their money, and most of all: they didn’t like sharing you. Another executive in the ranks

You hadn’t been with any of them, not really. Some heavy petting with Hanma here and there, a makeout session with the Haitanis at one point during a drunken night, maybe you gave Sanzu a handy when you were playing passenger princess for a mission. Nothing solid, and definitely not enough to any of them to stake ‘claim’ on you. You held your own, not letting any of them interfere with your work. You barely glanced in their directions unless you had to (you were softer with Kakucho, he was too sweet for you not to be) so that the ugly green monster didn’t rear its ugly head. What you didn’t know is that it always did anyways. 

Countless arguments and fist fights were had over who you belonged to (none of them!), usually between Ran and Hanma. Shuji just loved to get under the older brother’s skin, it was one of his favorite past times, really. It never ended well for any of them, usually beating the shit out of each other. On more than one occasion you’ve walked in on the fights, muttering something about them ‘being idiot assholes’ and slamming the door before any of them could even get a word in. But recently...something’s changed, you could feel it.

Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou and Ran have all been particularly kinder to you, unbearably so. They’d all look at you with a devilish smile plastered on their face, hell they’ve even gone so far as to no longer fight in your presence. You were suspicious of them, narrowing your eyes whenever another made a snarky comment and there wasn’t a complaint to be heard. You kept your distance, feeling like something was really off. After a particularly stressful mission, one that spanned the length of a week and had so many intricacies it was making your head spin, it was decided that the five of you would go out drinking to celebrate. You needed to take the edge off after walking on thin ice for the last few days. You had arrived at the usual bar--one that Bonten owned and had a private balcony for the execs and Mikey whenever they decided to swing by. The others were already there, drinks being passed around. They quieted down when you arrived, feeding you drinks and shots to ‘get you on the same level as them’

“Hanma you fucking alcoholic, slow down” You cackled, shoving the beer he tried to give you out of your face. “Who knew you were such a lightweight.” Rindou spoke, taking a sip of his own beer with a drunken smile. You pouted, ripping his own drink away from him, “I’m not. The cocktails were fucking strong that’s all.” You took a sip before giving it back to him, turning to Hanma again with a sigh. “Fucking--fine, leave me alone after this!” You threw your inhibitions to the wind, chugging the bottle as the rest of the crew bursted out in excitement and laughter. “There you go, beautiful” You bristled at Ran’s words, ignoring them as best you could but he could already tell you were reacting to them. Hanma’s turn to speak, “we knew you could do it pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing at your thigh. You couldn’t ignore that. “What are you morons up to?” You squinted, drunk or not you knew the four of them didn’t get along that well to not let those two remarks slide. Sanzu grinned something wicked, eyes wide coked out of his mind. “We have a proposition for you, pretty.” You waited. “Sleep with us.” 

You barked out a laugh, keeling over and holding your gut. “Funny fucking joke, cokehead.” You waited to hear any sort of commotion--even Hanma egging you on to actually sleep with him. But you heard nothing. Okay, now you were concerned. “...You’re joking right?” Rindou shrugged, chugging the rest of his beer. “Look, we all know you’ve fucked around with us one way or another. You know we want you.” You swallowed dryly. “Easiest for none of these motherfuckers to get jealous is if you fuck all of us.” (Rindou was also one of the jealous motherfuckers, but he’ll at least keep cool longer.) “That’s a fucking joke! Absolutely not, no fucking way in hell!” You knew, even if they kept trying to persuade you, at the end of the day they would let you be. They weren’t fucking monsters. ( You were a soft spot for them, is all.) They let it be for the rest of the night, continuing on as if nothing ever happened. But...you couldn’t let it go.

So when they all found themselves in a group chat with you, and a text from you, they grinned like the devil himself.

| We play by my rules or we don’t play at all. My place, 9 pm. Don’t make me regret this, assholes

-

“Fuck, look at you pretty girl, taking me so fucking well.” Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, Ran’s cock ramming into the back of your throat as he face fucked you. You gagged and choked each time he pulled back, Ran growing more feral with each thrust hearing your pretty sounds and seeing your makeup run as you tried to steady your breathing through your nose. Behind you was Sanzu, kneading and slapping your ass as he shoved his cock deeper into your sloppy pussy. “Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” The pink haired man groaned, spreading your cheeks to your drooling cunt swallow him up. “What a nasty little bitch.” One hand was occupied with Rindou, trying to keep up with his pace jerking him, though really he was more just fucking into your hand. “Move, Haitani.” Ah, the ever graceful Hanma. “My fuckin’ turn.” A tattooed hand ripped you off of Ran, taking the millisecond of opportunity to breathe in deep, before being shoved back down on another dick. Hanma pushed into your throat until your nose pushed up against his pubes, your free hand clawing at his stomach to give you a fucking minute. He hissed, pulling back and letting you breathe. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Hanma.” You all but stuttered out, trying to keep your composure but a particularly harsh thrust right into that spongy spot deep within your cunt had you whining. “Fuck! Aah, Sanzu--shit.” You whimpered, looking back to see the wild eyes of the resident drug addict look at you with a smirk plastered on his face. “Yeah? You like that, baby? Like when I fuck that slutty little pussy?” He angled himself again to keep hitting that spot that made you see stars and you whined, nodding. They were overwhelming you in the best possible way and you didn’t know how you’d ever recover from this--how you’d ever fuck anyone else after this.

Hanma took your chin in his hands, trying to be more careful of you this time. “Don’t leave me hanging, angel, wanna see you choking on my cock.” You were starting to become so fucked out you nodded and licked a stripe up his long shaft, before swallowing him into your throat (at your own pace.) He groaned, hand gripping at your roots as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off. You felt Rindou slip out of your hand and move towards the back of you. “Out the way druggie, I wanna taste her before you dickheads cum inside her.” Sanzu grumbled but complied anyway. Last thing anyone wanted to do was kill their boner by arguing. The younger Haitani spread your lips with two fingers, seeing your abused hole clench around nothing. “So fucking hot,” He murmured, gathering saliva in his mouth before spit right on your pussy, seeing his dribble out. The fingers that held you open moved to swipe at your clit, which caused you to moan around Hanma. “Fuck, whatever you’re doing back there keep going Haitani--moaning like a fucking whore around my cock.” He cackled, hand tightening in your hair almost painfully. But it felt so good you didn’t care. 

Rindou removed his fingers completely and licked a stripe up your wet slit. He let the muscle drag over your clit a few times before teasing your hole, dipping in before licking around your pussy again. The teasing was absolute torture, when all you wanted was to feel him inside you. He suckled at your nub with a groan, and slipped his tongue fully in you. He spread your cheeks fucking you with his tongue. Your muffled moans got louder,  grasping at anything you could get your hands on. Ran slipped in and grabbed your hand to place around his cock with a laugh. “Yo Rin, she’s fucking shaking bro, keep going.”  And you were, on the precipice of the strongest orgasm you think you’ll ever have in your life. You didn’t think that you’d ever be this turned on having sex with any of them--let alone all four at the same time. But they learned your body so quickly and used that information against you, brain melting. Hanma slipped out of your mouth, wanting to hear the wanton moans that were spilling out of your mouth. “Fuck! Rin, pleasepleaseplease don’t stop don’t sto-oh fuck!” You cried, tears slipping past those pretty lashes and your mouth shaped in a cute ‘o’ as you violently shook from your orgasm. You drenched Rindou’s face, and he happily lapped up all your juices with a laugh. “That’s what I’m talking about baby” he teased, sucking your clit into his mouth again until you had a second wave of shocks, now turning painful. You squealed , free hand pushing him away from your hole. 

“Rin, huh?” Hanma grabbed at your jaw, raising you up slightly from your knees so you were looking up at him. “If he gets first name then I wanna hear you call me Shuji, baby.” Your breathing was shaky, along with the rest of your body as you dumbly nodded. Your eyes were hazy and a small smile played at your lips--completely fucked out. “Look at her, fucking cockdrunk.” You had no idea who was talking anymore, barely paying attention as you tried to grab at the tall man in front of you. “Open up your mouth baby.” He cooed, and you immediately complied, sticking your tongue out. Suddenly you had a glob of spit in your mouth, some landing on your cheek too. Then you heard a laugh. “So fucking cute, go ahead and swallow baby girl.” Who you assumed was Hanma speaking, you did as you were told and showed him after, eyes that you didn’t even realize you closed fluttering open and waiting. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Sanzu turned your head closer to him, now kneeling to kiss you hotly on the mouth. It was all tongue and teeth, as you tried desperately to get closer to him. He licked into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and biting at your lips. The kiss left your lips swollen, you know it, but you didn’t care, bringing him back in after he let go. He mumbled a laugh in between kisses “someone’s needy.” 

You felt a mouth wrap around your nipple, and you keened, arching your back more into whoever was suckling at your chest. Ran, nipped at you, hearing you whimper at the short burst of pain before laving his tongue over in apology. “Let’s move you, baby. Lay on your back.” You complied, spreading your legs when your back hit the bed. The men around you groaned, all pumping their dicks as they saw the object of their desires and wet dreams so ready and willing to take them all. Rindou pulled you up, hanging your head over the edge of the bed and slapping his cock on your mouth. “Open up, baby.” He smirked, pushing his dick past your lips and seeing drool at the corners of your mouth. You had no energy to even blow him properly, letting him use you as a cock sleeve and fuck your mouth as he pleases. 

His thrusting only lasted a minute before a voice cut in, “let her up for a second, Haitani--wanna see that pretty face when I shove my dick in her.” Hanma ran a hand through his unkempt locks, lining his big cock to your hole and waited. “Come on baby, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?” He teased, laughing as you wiggled your hips towards him. “Hanma--” “Wrong.” You whined, moving more. “Shuji, please.” You whimpered, and he dipped the tip of his cock in to tease. “You know what I wanna hear~” You jut your lip out in a pout, “daddy please, I want your cock. Shuji, fuck me already.” He clicked his tongue. “I’ll let the attitude go f’now, see how far that gets you.” Suddenly his hips were flush against your and you felt like you got the wind knocked out of you. His pace was relentless, slamming himself into you over and over again. Your cries didn’t last long as Rindou abused your mouth again,  muffling most of the noise spilling from you. Sanzu bit and suckled marks into your skin--around your tits, on your chest, your waist, wherever he can get his mouth on. Ran fucked into your shaky hand, slapping the tit that wasn’t in Sanzu’s mouth. You cried, pussy clenching around Hanma who barked out a laugh. “The little freak likes it when you do that, Haitani.” Ran snickered, pinching harshly at your nipple before giving you another slap. “Yeah? Little baby likes it a little hard?” You could hear how cruel he sounded, but you didn’t care. The pain mixed with everything the men were giving you felt better than any drug Sanzu could supply you with. 

“Fuck, gonna cum down your throat, baby. Be a good girl and swallow it, yeah?” Rindou grunted, grabbing a hold of the sides of your face and fucked your mouth with vigor. It felt like he was in your stomach with how deep he was, Rindou loving the outline of his cock in your throat. “Fuck, baby, look at you.” He didn’t last long after that, spilling his cum straight down your throat with a moan, grinding on your face until he was done. You gasped when he finally let you go, swallowing down his cum as best you could without choking, some of it dribbling off the tip of his dick onto your face. You didn’t have much of a reprieve as Hanma took the opportunity to fuck into you hard, force shaking you on the bed. “Shuji, shuji! Fuck! “ You cried, clawing at the sheets trying to keep your head up to look at the way his cock pummeled your swollen cunt. “There you go, baby! Keep calling daddy’s name.” He snickered, spitting on your clit before letting his fingers rub at you. Your eyes rolling, feeling the impending orgasm bubbling higher up. Hanma pressed a hand down on your stomach as he angled himself, and you snapped. You were sobbing, your entire body shaking as your drenched him, trying to close your legs but he wouldn’t let you. “Shu--shuji no more” you whimpered as he laughed, letting go of your stomach but still fucking into your sloppy pussy. “Who knew you were a squirter, huh? Gonna make me fucking cum if you keep clenching baby.” His nasty words spurred you on, and even though you were exhausted you couldn’t help but tighten around him. 

A few more pumps and Hanma was emptying his balls into your cunt, stuffing you deep with his cum. He moved back to see it dribble out as you kept clenching around nothing. You couldn’t even think anymore--being tossed around like a rag doll before you were face to face with Ran. “Talk to me, pretty girl--you think you can keep going?” He sounded teasing, but you knew deep down he really was checking on you. You nodded, pulling him in to a bruising kiss before feeling him slip underneath you. “Want you to ride me, beautiful.” You lined yourself up with his length, pushing down and leaning over so he had a perfect view of your ass. “That’s what I’m talking about, angel.” He slapped your ass hard before gripping at your cheeks, bringing you down harder onto his cock with each pap, pap, pap. To your front, Sanzu’s cock slapped at your face, forcing you to open your eyes and look up at him. “Come on baby, use that pretty mouth on me.” You nodded once, and opened up wide to let him fill your mouth, sticking your tongue out underneath his shaft and bobbing your head. Ran met your bounces with a thrust up, using the momentum to his advantage to fuck you deeper. You kept crying, the overstimulation becoming borderline painful but it wasn’t enough, wanted all of their cum. Your hands gripped at Sanzu’s hips, slobbering on his cock, gagging and letting drool dribbled out of your mouth. You were a fucking mess, filled with cum, sweat and spit covering you. You should feel disgusting, but how could you? They were making you feel so good.

“Fuck me, beatiful. This pussy is still so fucking tight.” Ran practically wheezed, indenting your skin with small bruises on your hips with how harshly he was gripping at you. “Could fuck you every fucking day and you’d still be so fucking tight.” He pounded into you, cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. It hurt, but you still fucking liked it. Sanzu pushed you deeper onto him, seeing the spit and drool bubbling around him. “Sloppy little bitch,” he cackled. “Pretty baby can’t help but be messy, can you?” He taunted, facefucking you with no restraint. “Gonna cum inside you, beautiful, fuck. Need you to cum first.” A hand wrapped around to your swollen and abused clit, giving it a few slaps and rubbing at it, thrusting your cock up to rub at your walls and bring you crumbling down. Your orgasms were still pulsing your through veins, clenching him so fucking tight Rin ground you down and shot his load inside of you. You felt yourself fill to the brim with cum, two loads now covering your messy walls. 

Sanzu was right behind him, except he wanted to keep you messy. He pulled out enough to tip your head back and cum into your mouth, having the mess land on your cheeks, forehead, even your hair. Ran lifted you enough to slide from under you, holding you up when he felt you trembling and nearly collapsing. “Woah, hey baby come on lean back.” He cooed, having you lean on his chest as he motioned Hanma and Rindou to grab something to clean you up. “You okay?” He whispered, kissing at your temple that wasn’t covered in cum, feeling you nod against him. “Mhm, m’okay...” Your voice was low, throat raw from all the use. Ran smiled on your temple, moving away when Sanzu got closer to wipe away his mess from your face. “Looked so good covered in my cum, baby.” He laughed when you swatted at him. “Gonna have me dreaming of that face every night.” You groaned, “Sanzu, shut up.” smile evident in your voice. 

The men cleaned you up, and Hanma picked you up to bring you to the bath that Rindou had started for you. They were fucking assholes, but the least they could do was help you around after they fucked you nearly to unconsciousness. “Thank you, Shuji.” You murmured only for him to hear, petting his cheek as you looked around dazed. He kissed your palm, whispering a ‘you’re welcome, baby’ and letting you relax.

They’d be there when you were done, to ask if you needed anything else, to ask how you were feeling, and most importantly to ask if they could do this again some time.

[st-eve-barnes]

Into my arms

(Modern Aemond x fem Reader)

Summary: You're dating Aegon, the womanizer and party boy, when his brother Aemond, the more reserved and shy one, falls in love with you.

I desperately needed to write more modern, shy Aemond so here it is.

Word count: +6100

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, the usual ;)

Lots of fluff and comfort as well, mutual pining (though it's mostly Aemond pining). Some angst, mentions of cheating, Aegon is a dick.

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aemond had never believed in love, let alone in love at first sight. He’d witnessed first hand how much love could ruin and hurt, first with his mother who had been stuck in a loveless marriage all her life and now with his roommate and brother Aegon, who fucked another girl every few weeks and then broke their hearts as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

As far as Aemond was concerned love was nothing but heartbreak, disappointment, and pain. And a long list of complicated feelings he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

That is until he met you.

You’d been dating Aegon for a couple of weeks when you first made your way to the kitchen of his apartment in the middle of the night, looking for a midnight snack. You were a light sleeper, easily awoken by the smallest of sounds in the room or the building, unlike your bed partner Aegon who could sleep through an earthquake. You dragged yourself out of bed and quickly grabbed one of Aegon’s shirts to put on as you fled the bedroom.

It was dark in the kitchen, the light of the fridge like a much needed oasis but when you opened it the euphoria soon faded. There was nothing in there besides beer and leftover spaghetti that looked like it had been in there for weeks. 

“Great,” you sighed in disappointment and closed the door again when suddenly Aemond, Aegon’s younger brother, stood right in front of you in the dark room, making you jump back.

“Oh, mother of…fuck!” you grabbed at your heart.

“Sorry,” Aemond jumped back as well, startled by your reaction,”I’m so sorry, I’m usually the only one here at this hour. I didn’t….”

“No, it’s my fault, I’m sorry,” you gave him an apologetic smile,” I shouldn’t have just…”

You and Aemond had never really spoken before. You knew Aegon shared an apartment with his brother, who went to another university in the same town, but apart from seeing him in passing in the hallways of the building you two had never been officially introduced to each other.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated,”I’m Y/N, you must be Aemond.”

He nodded,”It’s good to meet you, Y/N.”

You noticed he was covering up his scar with his hand, trying to hide it from you.“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, turning his face away from you,”I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Your could feel your heart sink at his words and suddenly you felt guilty knowing your reaction was what caused him to feel that way,“Oh, no, you didn’t frighten me at all."

“I saw you jump."

“Well, you startled me, but…not because of your eye or your scar,” you looked at him and let your gaze rest on his face, hoping to reassure him,”You don’t need to hide that from me. It’s okay.”

The soft sweet tone in your voice took Aemond by surprise. Aegon brought girls over to the apartment all the time but none of them were ever interested in him, most of them weren’t even nice to him. He had grown used to being ignored and he had come to do the same knowing none of them stuck around for very long anyway. 

But you seemed different. Kinder. And he couldn’t bear the thought of making you uncomfortable.

“I can just go grab my eye patch and put it on,” he suggested,”if that…I…I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Aemond,” you reached out and carefully placed your hand on his wrist. 

”It’s okay, it’s just a scar,” you spoke softly, not looking away from him,” It doesn’t frighten me, or make me uncomfortable. But…if it makes you uncomfortable and you feel safer putting it on then please go ahead, but I am fine, I promise you.”

Aemond finally let out the breath he’d been holding back and lowered his arm, showing himself to you. He was almost surprised to find your expression matched your words. There was no disgust on your face, no pity or fake concern, all he found was your honest eyes and a soft encouraging smile.

Your touch, unexpected and warm, made his heart soar and when you pulled your hand back he instantly felt the emptiness it left.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight yet here he was, feeling weak and lightheaded from just a simple touch of your hand and he couldn’t help but long for more of it.

”So, you’re a light sleeper as well, huh?” you then asked.

Aemond was thankful for the change of subject,”Yeah, you too?”

“Very light sleeper,” you confessed with a smile.

He was finding it hard to keep his eye off you and he searched for something else to keep him occupied. He opened the fridge,”Are you hungry?”

“I was but there’s nothing in there.”

”Oh, there is, you have to know where to look.” He rearranged some beers and found a leftover pizza in the back of the fridge.

You raised your eye brow at him,“Tell me that hasn’t been there since last week.”

“It’s from last night,” he reassured you,”Sometimes I hide stuff in there so Aegon doesn’t eat it all.”

You laughed.

”You want it hot or cold?” he asked.

“Who in the world eats cold pizza??”

He smiled softly and shook his head.“Apparently only me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you laughed again and met his eyes.

“We’ll heat it up,” he smiled.

You looked at him while he put the pizza in the microwave and grabbed plates and drinks for you both. 

He looked so different from Aegon, you found it hard to believe they were actually brothers. His long hair, usually up in a bun or ponytail, was now hanging loosely over his shoulders and he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, making him look so much more casual and relaxed than you had ever seen him. It looked good on him.

Aemond was a little shy with you at first but you actually liked that, it was different than it was with Aegon, who loved nothing more than to talk about himself and be the center of attention. Aemond preferred to let you do most of the talking while he listened. He asked you questions about yourself and seemed so genuinely interested to get to know you the conversation flowed easily over your shared pizza. You found yourself enjoying his company a lot more than you had ever expected.

One hour turned into two and before you knew it the sun was coming up and you reluctantly took your leave and went back to Aegon’s room, leaving Aemond alone with his thoughts. 

And the only thing filling them was you.

Your eyes and your smile and the soft spoken way you conversed with him all night. How you never tried to push him out of his shell but took over the conversation when you noticed he struggled with his words. How you didn’t shy away from looking at him, scars and all. How you casually kept touching his arm during conversation, making him feel things he never felt before.

Aemond knew he was fucked. 

The moment he started to believe in love at first sight was the moment he realized it was doomed. You were his brother’s girl, and while his brother was undoubtedly a complete idiot Aemond would never be so cruel as to try and steal you away from him. Not that he believed he could. You were far too good for him. And most definitely too good for his brother. But for some reason you seemed smitten with Aegon. 

So what was Aemond to do?

He lay awake the rest of the night and the morning after until he finally fell asleep and woke up late for class.

***

He tried his best to deny it, push those feelings down at first, believing it would all go away if he just didn’t see you for a while and focused on other things.

But every night when you stayed over he found you in the kitchen at night, welcoming him with a smile and a conversation that made his entire week.

It had become a habit, your nightly meetings in the kitchen when neither of you could sleep. Aemond was still a little shy and quiet sometimes but he was also slowly coming out of his shell and opening up to you and you found yourself looking forward to your nightly encounters.

“So, how are things progressing with Aegon?” Aemond asked you a few weeks later as you two were eating cornflakes at the kitchen counter, at half pas midnight.. 

“Good,” you smiled,”It’s going pretty good, yeah.”

“Good, I’m happy to hear it.” Aemond smiled and hoped it didn’t look as forced as it felt. 

He was happy for you, of course he was, you deserved nothing but good things in life. But it haunted him that he couldn’t be that good thing in your life, that it was Aegon and not him. Of course he would never tell you that.

“So, how is your love life?” you asked.

Aemond shook his head with a sigh,”It’s…not.”

“Why not?”

He looked up to meet your eyes, surprised to find genuine concern there.

“I’m just not…I don’t know, dating is not my thing I guess.”

“Why not? You’re a gorgeous guy, Aemond.”

He almost choked on his cornflakes, blushing furiously at your words which put a smile on your face.

“No, I’m not, come on,” he shook his head and gestured towards his scar,”Girls don’t look at me and think dating material.”

You took your time to look at him for a moment, letting your eyes rest on his soft blue one and his pale delicate face and soft lips, then you firmly shook your head,”Well, they’re wrong. And you’re wrong, plenty of girls would date you. In fact I could get you a date before the weekend if you want.”

“No, thanks, I…wait, really?” he raised his eye brow in interest and you both laughed but he was quick to shake his head again,”No, I’m good actually. But thanks for that.”

“If you’re sure.”

He was still blushing and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked, there was something so disarming about this man being so affected by your words. You forced yourself to look away for a moment, remembering that you were dating his brother and not him.

“Actually,” he started and he sighed, biting his lip before continuing,”There is someone I…really like…but she’s seeing someone, so…”

You leaned on your elbow to look at him with a grin,”Ohh, a secret love, who is she? Do I know her?”

“I’m not telling you that,” he quickly shut you down and stood to open the fridge and take out a small plate with the last piece of a chocolate cake on it. He placed it in front of you.

“Hmm, distracting me with chocolate, smart move,” you teased while letting your eyes feast on the cake.

“It’s yours if you want,” he spoke softly.

“I think we both deserve it.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You’re dealing with a forbidden unrequited love there, those are the hardest most heartbreaking ones. You really should have all the cake.”

Aemond smiled softly and tried not to show how deeply those words affected him.

“Yeah, but….you’re dating my brother,” he then joked,”I don’t think there’s enough cake in the world for you…”

You playfully hit him on the arm, letting your hand linger and Aemond leaned a little closer, pushing his shoulder against yours, innocently looking for more contact. You didn’t move away.

He melted with every sign of affection you showed him, no matter how innocent or small it was, Aemond would soak in it, feeling his heart heal and hurt at the same time.

“Get two spoons,” you laughed,”We’re sharing this.”

***

You and Aegon had been dating a little over two months when the first cracks started to show. He had stood you up twice already that week, without even as much as a phone call or a text, let alone an apology. You had waited around the apartment all night for him so you two could talk things through, but Aegon never showed up.

Instead it was Aemond who found you in the kitchen that night, your face buried in a bowl of ice cream.

“Hey, not fair, you started without me?” he asked, a look of fake shock on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes and Aemond’s smile faded instantly when he noticed you were crying.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he sat down next to you at the counter, concern all over his face.

You looked at him and shook your head, your lip was trembling and more tears fell from your eyes. Aemond wanted to scoop you up in his arms and kiss away every single one of them, but he settled for a soft, comforting hand on the small of your back.

“What did he do?” he sighed.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” Aemond nodded, keeping his hand firmly on your back,”You can, you know, I’m a good listener.”

You smiled through your tears,”I know you are.”

The way he was looking at you with such genuine concern and sympathy was only making you feel more emotional.

“We may have broken up,” you then confessed in a sob, more tears falling from your eyes now that you finally said it out loud, making it real. 

Aemond’s heart was breaking seeing you cry like this and the worst thing was he knew this moment was coming all along, Aegon was like a spoilt child always getting tired of his new toy when something better came along. He would cast you aside just like he had all the others. Aemond’s anger was burning, he wanted to kick his brother’s ass so hard, but he bit back his fury and focussed all of his attention on you, for now.

“Tell me what you need,” he asked softly, realizing he would have done anything you asked him in that moment.

“Can you just…hold me for a while?”

Aemond felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest but he nodded quickly,”Of course I can. Come here.”

You leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder while your hands grabbed at his shirt to pull him close.

Aemond wrapped both arms around you and hugged you gently, hands caressing your back and your hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispered,” You can cry all you want and I’ll hold you for as long as you need me to, okay?”

You broke with his words, letting your tears fall freely and burying your face into his shirt. Aemond tightened his hug and didn’t let go until you were all cried out. 

His arms felt so good around you, like a warm comforting blanket making everything more bearable. You didn’t want him to let go even after your tears had stopped falling. You hesitantly leaned back, just enough to look at him but still keeping your hands on his stomach, not wanting to break contact just yet.

Aemond looked at you with a soft smile,”You okay?”

You nodded and wiped your cheek. Aemond lifted one hand to your other cheek and did the same, gently brushing away the last of your tears with his thumb. His touch was giving you butterflies and it confused you. He was so gentle and so caring and you just didn’t want him to stop.

Your fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him closer and he sighed deeply, pressing his forehead against yours while his eyes closed.

“Aemond,” you whispered,”I…”

“My brother doesn’t deserve you,” he breathed, knowing he was going to regret these words later but he just couldn’t fight it any longer, not with you clinging to him like this.”If you were mine I’d be so good to you…I’d make sure you never had a reason to cry…make sure you knew just how amazing you are…if you were mine I’d…”

“But you’re not,” you reminded him, pulling him and yourself, out of this haze. 

You both stared at each other for a while until Aemond let you go and stepped back, one hand moving over his face in a deep sigh,”I’m sorry…I should’t have said those things.”

“No, Aemond, it’s fine…I just…,” you sighed and opened your mouth to say something else but then you both heard the front door open and close.

Aemond swore under his breath when you watched Aegon step into the room.

“Can I please have a chat with my girlfriend, brother?”

***

There was nothing Aemond could do but watch you go with Aegon while he retreated to his own room, helpless to watch the rest of the night unfold.

He heard you two fight at first, voices raised in anger and he expected you to burst out of there any second but the sound of the door opening or closing didn’t come. Instead he’d heard you both talk again, calmer this time. 

He should have known how it would all end the moment he heard your laughter through the walls. 

It was followed by more quiet talking, then you giggling. And then the squeaking of the bed and the sounds of you and Aegon who had definitely not broken up.

Aemond wanted to die.

***

Things were different between you and Aemond after that, the kitchen remained empty during the nights and you had barely spoken two words to him in the past few weeks, both of you obviously avoiding the other. He stayed in his room most of the time when you were there or he went out to spend his evenings in the library, away from you and Aegon.

You and Aegon on the other hand were doing better, he had apologized to you over and over again that night, first with words and then with his tongue in between your legs, making you cum so many times you forgot why you were ever angry at him to begin with.

You put that little moment between you and Aemond that night down to you being overly emotional and him just being sweet enough to comfort you. That was all it was, you were with Aegon and that was all there was to it.

And things went great with Aegon for almost three weeks after that, until that one Friday night. You were supposed to meet him at the club but he was over an hour late and when you finally found him it was on the dance floor, with his tongue down some girl’s throat and a bottle of vodka in his hand.

The fight that followed was the ugliest one yet, nasty words were thrown around from both ways and it ended with you leaving him in the club.

You should have just gone back to your dorm afterwards and cried yourself to sleep, let the anger fade before making any harsh decisions.

But you could only think of one thing, you were in dire need of comfort and there was only one person you wanted it from. 

Aemond knew the moment he opened the door and saw your face, eyes red from crying and the bottle of vodka swinging in your hand, half empty.

You pushed past him into the apartment. “We have definitely broken up now,” you stated.

Aemond sighed and closed the door behind you. 

He was going to kill his brother.

You let yourself fall down on the couch in the living room and took another long sip from the bottle. When you were done Aemond stepped up to you and pulled it from your hands.

“Hey!” you responded in anger.

“Let’s switch you to water for a while, it looks like you’ve had quite enough vodka for tonight.”

“There isn’t enough vodka in the world to ease my pain right now.”

Aemond raised his eye brow at your dramatics but you just pouted at him. He disappeared into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and threw it at you. Much to his surprise you caught it with one hand.

“See?” you pointed out,”I’m fine.”

Aemond sat down on the couch next to you, a softer look on his face this time as his gaze found yours. “Are you?”

You felt the tears well up in the back of your eyes and shook your head. “Your brother is a huge asshole.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me. What did he do now and do I even want to know?” Aemond took a sip from your bottle of vodka.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” you instantly objected,” That’s my vodka, I can’t drink it but you can?”

“You drank over half the bottle already and I’m sober,” Aemond stated,”If we’re going to have a conversation about this I need to get down to your level.”

You threw a pillow at him. Aemond easily caught it in his arms and smiled, happy to see your lips curl up into a smile of your own. 

You let your eyes rest on him for a while. He looked so beautiful and relaxed and you realized how much you’d missed this, just being with him and talking and joking around.

“So he stood you up again?” he asked.

“Worse,” you sighed,” he showed up late only to flirt with someone else, I found him on the dance floor making out with this girl, drunk off his ass.”

Aemond’s hands balled up into fists, trying to keep his anger under control.

You were shaking your head, “I really do have the worst taste in men.”

“I’m sorry, my brother’s an unfaithful asshole. I…I should have warned you about him from the start,” Aemond sighed, feeling more than a little guilty.

“That’s not your responsibility, Aemond,” you reassured him,”Besides, I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

You took a long sip from the bottle of water, making a face and sticking out your tongue afterwards,”God, this tastes like shit.”

Aemond looked at you with a fond smile before averting his eye for a while. He had missed you so much during these past weeks, not being able to talk to you or see you had been torture. He had tried to focus on his classes and studying but you hadn’t left his mind for even a second. 

You both stayed quiet for a while until you broke the silence.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if we had met first?” you then asked.

Aemond’s eye found yours but he didn’t say anything.

”If I had ran into you that day instead of Aegon, do you think things would be different now?”

“Different how?” he asked, nervously taking another sip from the bottle.

“Different as in…would I be dating you, instead of Aegon? I mean…if you would even date someone like me…forget it, it’s stupid, I’m just drunk.” 

But you didn’t feel drunk and you hadn’t told Aemond that you stole that bottle of vodka from Aegon and it had already been half empty when you took it. You only drank a little on your way over here, making you tipsy at best.

You shook your head and then took another long sip of water.

Aemond’s head was light, the vodka starting to have its effect on him and the topic of conversation wasn’t doing anything to make things better.

“So would you?” you hesitantly asked again,”Date me?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he confessed softly before putting the bottle down.

“You would?”

He stared at you.”How could I not? Look at you, you’re gorgeous, and smart, incredibly funny and so sweet and compassionate and warm…and gorgeous.”

You felt your face heat up at all his compliments and you laughed quietly,”You already said gorgeous.”

“Yeah, well…it bears repeating.”

He had moved a little closer to you on the couch, his knee now touching your leg . You didn’t move away but instead leaned a little closer as well, drawn to him, just like you always had been. The way he was looking at you was giving you butterflies and when he licked his lips something started burning a little below your stomach.

How had you been able to deny this for so long? You’d always been attracted to him, right from the start, always seeking just that little bit of physical contact to have him close to you, even when it was just friendly and innocent.

It wasn’t innocent tonight though.

Aemond took another, longer sip from the bottle, maintaining eye contact and your eyes drifted to his mouth again and to those beautiful, sinful and very kissable lips.

You wanted him so bad it was making your head spin.

“Would you fuck me, Aemond?” you then asked, almost making him spill his drink but you continued fearlessly,”If Aegon hadn’t been in the picture, would you fuck me?”

You both knew this conversation was completely off the rails now, you were heading straight for a crash but neither of you seemed willing to pull on the breaks.

You were looking at him with such lustful eyes Aemond couldn’t lie to you. So he didn’t. ”I’d fuck you right now if you asked,” he whispered.

The air in the room was growing heavier by the second, the flames in your lower belly quickly spreading into a full on fire. Aemond held your gaze. “Would you fuck me?” he then asked, voice lower than before.

“Yeah, I’d fuck you,” you answered way too quickly.

“If Aegon wasn’t in the picture…right?” he asked carefully.

“No,” you shook your head, biting your lip while you looked at him,”Right now. I’d fuck you right now, right here…if you asked.”

Your words made Aemond’s brain short circuit. He should walk away, right now, you were drunk and he was a little intoxicated and you were both way too horny to be playing games like this.

But your eyes were still on him, even hungrier than before.”Ask me, Aemond.”

How could he say no to you after wanting you for so long? He was a strong man but he wasn’t that strong, and while he had always believed himself to be a good man right now in this moment, all he wanted was to be bad with you.

“Come here,” he whispered, reaching for your hand.

You placed it in his and he didn’t hesitate. He gently pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling him while your arms moved around his shoulders, your entire body wrapped around his. Aemond placed one hand on your waist while the other moved up into your neck, pulling you closer, forehead bumping against yours in his eagerness, making you both laugh.

‘“Sorry,” he whispered shyly.

“That’s okay,” you smiled softly,”Kiss me.”

He leaned in and captured your mouth into a soft kiss, just pressing his lips to yours while breathing you in. It was so tender and sweet your heart was melting.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he then confessed in a heavy sigh, adding more fuel to your fire.

You kissed him back and licked into his mouth, making him moan into it before he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. His tongue against yours was like bolts of electricity running through your veins, he kissed you so slowly and so passionately there was no longer any doubt left in your mind. 

You had been dating the wrong brother.

You melted into him a little more with each kiss and Aemond did not stop, sucking and gently biting at your lower lip, letting his teeth graze your jaw before moving his kisses to your neck, sloppy and wet now. Your hips moved against his, desperate for friction, you were so turned on you couldn’t think straight anymore.

Aemond held you down on his lap, bucking his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he was already.

“Don’t stop, please,” you breathed.

He brushed your lips with his thumb, staring into your eyes “You have no idea what you do to me, do you? How long I’ve wanted you like this,” he whispered before kissing your lips again. You moaned into his kiss, pulling at his hair and grinding into him.

Aemond chuckled against your skin,”You really want it too, hmm?”

All you could do was nod. His words weren’t registering with you anymore, you were too lost in how good it felt to have him between your legs.

“Touch me,” you begged.

“I am touching you,” he teased while kissing your jaw.

Your hand searched for his and guided him, pushing his hand down your stomach and your belly to settle him in between your legs. You could feel the heat of his fingers through your jeans.

“Touch me there,” you moaned,”Please, Aemond…I need you.”

Aemond pulled back but before you could protest he pushed you off his lap and down onto the couch. His hands quickly making work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down your legs.

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it felt like a dream, one he didn’t want to wake up from. He was so turned on and you seemed to need it just as badly as he did, which was driving him insane. He was fighting the urge to fuck you deep into that couch right now and just take what you both needed. But he wanted you to know he wanted more than just that.

You were leaned back on your elbows, eyes locked on him as he pulled down your underwear. He was being so gentle and careful and it only made you want him more. You had to fight the urge to press your legs together to ease some of the tension, if he didn’t touch you soon you were going to explode.

As if he had read your mind Aemond started kissing your inner thigh, his hands searching for yours, giving you something to hold onto as he kissed higher and higher up your leg until his tongue slowly started lapping at your folds, teasing your clit with just the tip of his tongue.

“Yes,” you breathed, relief flooding through your veins at finally being touched where you needed it,”God…yes.”

Aemond followed your reactions and started paying some more attention to your clit, circling it with his tongue now.

“Fuck,” you moaned and let yourself fall back on the couch, fingers tightening in his hand.

Aemond’s tongue moved through your folds again, gentle at first and then putting a little more pressure into it before returning to your clit, sucking it softly before moving his tongue down to your entrance, teasing your opening, fucking you with the tip of his tongue as if he had never done anything else in his life.

“My god…you are so good at this…how are you so good at this?” you moaned shamelessly, making him blush hard and you could feel his lips curl up into a smile. 

He looked up at you with a bashful grin on his face.“As long as you’re still talking, I’m not doing a good enough job,” he then whispered and returned his attention to your clit.

“Trust me…you are,” you breathed and then he was back to fucking you with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit giving you the perfect friction. It was all you needed.

You started falling apart, legs shaking around him as your first orgasm washed over you. Your walls were clenching around nothing, desperately needing him inside you.

“Aemond,” you moaned and moved your hand into his hair, caressing him softly and he hummed against your clit, taking his time to lick you clean. You were falling so fast and so hard, the heartbreak from earlier that night nothing but a distant memory now. All you wanted, all you could think about was Aemond.

“I need you,” you whispered,”All of you, please.”

You pulled him up into your arms. His mouth founds yours in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Meanwhile he slowly started unbuttoning his jeans. You helped him push his boxers down, freeing his erection and wrapping your hand around him immediately, needy and impatient. Aemond whimpered at your touch.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed and cupped your face, looking into your eyes,”Are you sure you want this? Are you sure?”

You nodded quickly and firmly,”Yes. I’ve never been more sure. I want you, Aemond, I’ve always wanted you.”

You guided his cock towards your entrance and he slowly pushed the head in while kissing your lips again, slowly but hungrily.

“I need you so bad,” he whispered, his voice shaking with want,”Fuck…I need you.”

He pushed in deeper, making you cling to him while you both moaned into each other’s mouth.

Aemond tried his best to keep it together and hold back, fucking you slowly and taking his time to stretch you to the fullest.

“God, you feel so good,” you breathed, moving your hips with his, meeting his every thrust.

Aemond buried his face into your neck, kissing and biting your skin while he started fucking you harder.

“I’m not gonna last,” he whimpered,”I’m sorry…I’m…fuck, you feel too fucking good…I can’t…”

“It’s okay…I’m close,” you pulled at his hair and arched your back,”Fuck…I’m so close…please…don’t stop.”

His next thrusts were hard and uncontrolled, pushing you deep into the cushions of the couch. His teeth sank into your skin when he came, taking you with him, your entire body convulsing with pleasure.

Aemond held you until it was over, and some time after that. When you were both breathing normally again his mouth searched for yours, desperate for another kiss. You kissed him back slowly, letting yourself get lost in the taste of him, not wanting this moment to ever end.

After a while you both reluctantly leaned back to look at each other. Aemond gently cupped your face.”Hey,” he whispered, lips curling up into a cute smile.

“Hi,” you smiled back.

“You okay?” he asked softly,”No regrets?”

The insecurity in his tone was not lost on you and you pressed your forehead against his, shaking your head,”None.”

“Are you sure?” his voice was shaking.

“I’m sure, Aemond,” you reassured him.

“It’s just…you’ve been drinking and…I would never forgive myself if I pushed you into it just because I..I wanted it so bad and…,” he bit his lip, avoiding your eyes,”Maybe we shouldn’t have done it…not tonight I mean.”

“Aemond,” you placed your hand over his, looking into his eye,”I’m not drunk, baby.”

“You’re not?” he breathed out a sigh of relief and then blushed over you calling him baby. It made you want to call him that all the time.

”That bottle was Aegon’s,” you explained,”It was half empty when I took it, I only had a few sips on the way here, I swear.”

“Thank god,” he smiled.

“What about you?” you then returned the question,”Any regrets?”

He pulled you closer into his arms while shaking his head.”None,” he then confessed softly,”I’ve wanted you for so long…ever since I first laid eyes on you in the kitchen.”

“Really?” you asked surprised while leaning into his embrace, putting soft kisses in his neck,”Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What could I say? Dump my brother and take me?”

You laughed,”It might have been helpful, yes.”

He kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger as he breathed you in,”I didn’t think you would ever want me anyway.”

You leaned back to look at him, caressing his face and his scar while you sighed deeply,”Aemond, baby...”

“It’s okay, my sweet girl,” he whispered, closing his eye and leaning into your touch. 

Your heart was melting and suddenly you were so thankful for Aegon being a total dick, because it made you see what you should have seen all along, that you were completely and utterly in love with his brother.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” you placed a soft kiss on Aemond’s lips and he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, one hand in your neck to hold you close to him.

“You were worth the wait,” he whispered before licking into your mouth and deepening the kiss, pushing you back down on the couch.

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 13

Becky’s New Life

Becky awoke from her midafternoon nap, and was immediately assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder, pee, and something yuckier. Every time she woke up, she prayed that everything she’d gone through with the Magician had all been some terrible dream, but when she opened her eyes, it was to see the white bars of her crib in front of her face, and the daycare’s naptime room beyond. It was a sight she’d become very familiar with over the last few months.

She got to her hands and knees, her bare breasts dangling beneath her, and felt her diaper droop heavily between her legs, almost brushing the plastic mattress cover of her cot. She screwed up her face in disgust and shame. She felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare. This was who she was now; an overgrown baby who filled her nappies in her sleep like a one-year-old. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. In fact, some of her former colleagues at the daycare had even made sure to capture it on video, so they could force her to watch her sleeping self lift her bottom into the air and start packing her oversized Pampers while they tittered. None of them liked her – they remembered how dismissive she’d been of their careers, the ones for whom it was more than just a Summer job, and how haughty and harsh she’d been with the children. In their minds, she was getting exactly what she deserved.

Becky got awkwardly to her feet, seething with anger. She hated all of them! How dare those stupid bitches treat her like this just because she hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life wiping poopy bottoms! Tears welled up in her eyes. At least it would’ve been better than spending her days getting her own poopy bottom wiped by somebody else… Even after months in diapers, she still hadn’t got used to them. She was starting to think she never would.

One of the daycare staff came over once they saw her standing up in her crib. Erica. Becky felt her spirits sink even lower. They were around the same age, and they’d hated each other when they’d been colleagues. Erica was nothing short of delighted at Becky’s fate. “Finally up from your nap, hmm?” she smirked. “We thought you might stay asleep all day, Beckers! It’s one of your favourite things to do now, isn’t it? Napping? Right up there with going to the toilet in your pants.”

Becky clenched her fists in fury, but did her best to keep her expression blank. She was desperate to get out of her messy nappy, and Erica wouldn’t change her if she was rude. “Please…” she began, but then she saw Erica’s raised eyebrows and realised her mistake. “I mean, pwease Miss Ewica! Baby Becky made a boom-boom! Can I have a clean nappy to poop in?”

Erica laughed nastily. “Oh no, Becky-poo, I don’t think so,” she cooed, her eyes glinting maliciously. “That was very cute, but you’ve only just made a stinky while you were napping! That diapee can hold an awful lot more. What was it you always said? What’s the point in changing the little brats when they’re just going to crap their pants again in a few minutes anyway?”

Becky whimpered.

“Come on, baby-butt,” Erica said, lifting her out of the crib with a grunt of effort and carrying her out of the naptime room and over to a corner where all the daycare’s other charges, her equals, were playing with blocks and dolls and toy cars and stuffed animals. “It’s playtime now,” said Erica. “You can have a nappy change later.” She plopped Becky down on her full diaper, making her groan in disgust.

Another daycare worker came over, a slightly older woman. Harriet was kinder than Erica, but she was no less pleased by where Becky had ended up. She looked down at the twenty-year-old woman on the floor with a patronising smile. “I see this little one’s done naptime potty-poos!” she chuckled. “You’re such a little stinker, aren’t you Becky?”

“Yes, Miss Hawwiet,” Becky lisped. She didn’t have much choice but to answer. Ignoring their questions was the fastest way to earn her a red bottom. The daycare didn’t normally allow corporal punishment, but they made a special exception for her, and most of the staff were constantly looking for any excuse to take her over their knees and spank her to tears. She didn’t know who was worse; Erica, who taunted her constantly about how far she’d fallen, or Harriet, who treated her like she really was just a silly little two-year-old.

Becky played with the stupid toys for what felt ages, closely supervised by Harriet, doing her best to keep her mind off the load in her pants. At last, lunchtime came around. The horrible baby food was nothing to look forward to, but at least it was a break from the monotony of playing with mind-numbing baby toys, and every second was a step closer to getting out of her messy nappy. Harriet led her over to a row of highchairs on one side of the room, where she was lifted up and crammed into the seat.

“Miss Hawwiet, pwease can I have-” she began, but Harriet interrupted her, anticipating her question.

“You can have a change after num-nums, Becky,” she said firmly.

Becky hung her head meekly and allowed herself to be fed spoonful after spoonful of mashed up peas and carrots.

“There’s a good girl!” Harriet cooed in a high-pitched, stomach-churning baby voice. “That’s a good baby! Little miss stinky-bum loves her nummy-nums, doesn’t she? Yes she does! Yes she does!”

Once she’d gone through several jars of baby food, the nipple of a large bottle was popped into her mouth, and Becky started guzzling down the milk within. Harriet held her bottle for her – she was considered far too immature to do it by herself. She hadn’t even held a knife and fork in months, not that they would have been much use to her when all her food went through a blender before it touched her lips.

Becky was halfway through her bottle when she started to wet herself. Instinctively she tried to clamp down on the flow, hoping that this time, somehow, her continence might have returned. But nothing happened. Warm pee soaked her already wet naptime diaper. Her oversized Pampers were now full of so much wee-wee that she could feel it pooling beneath her, unable to be absorbed by the thoroughly sodden padding. It felt almost as bad as the disgusting mess squishing against her bottom.

Finally, with her stomach full to burst with baby food and formula, Becky finished her lunch. Harriet lifted her out of her highchair and carried her over to one of the many changing tables that lined one wall of the room. “Erica!” she called, depositing Becky on the changing table. “Would you mind changing Becky’s nappy? I need to see to the other babies.”

“No problem!” Erica called back. She came over with a sneer on her face. “Hi, Becky-wecky,” she taunted, once Harriet had left. “Somebody definitely needs a diapee change,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What a yucky little girl you are, Becky! Always pooping your pants. You used to hate changing messy nappies so much. How does it feel wearing them yourself, knowing that you’ll never use a toilet again?”

Becky couldn’t look her in the eyes. She could feel tears welling up inside them.

Erica pushed her onto her back and started undoing the tapes of her diaper. She gave the front a quick little rub as she did so. “Crinkle, crinkle!” she teased. “Do you remember what it was like to have a man touch you down here?” She laughed. “Do you even remember what it was like to wear panties? You are quite pretty – I bet you had no trouble getting guys. But those days are over now, aren’t they Becky? No more boyfriends for you. The best you can hope is for a handsome daycare worker to change you!”

Becky started to cry.

“Awww,” cooed Erica, her tone mockingly sweet. “Poor wittle thing. Does baby Becky-wecky miss being a gwown-up? Does she miss wearing big girl clothes and eating adult food and having people talk to her like she’d not two years old? Does she wish she could use the potty again instead of doing all her pee-pees and poo-poos in her pants?”

Becky cried even harder, until Erica took a large pink dummy out of her apron pocket and shoved it into her mouth.

“There we go!” she said happily. “That will shut the baby up.” Then she pulled down the front of Becky’s nappy and lifted her legs into the air by her ankles. “This is where you belong, Becky,” she said, wiping at the woman’s messy bottom with one wet wipe after another. “On your back, legs up, getting your dirty diaper changed. I can’t think of a more perfect way for you to spend your life!”

Becky wailed like an infant as Erica finished wiping, powdering, and changing her bottom into a clean, dry nappy. Once the final tape was in place, Erica picked her up once again and carried her back through to the naptime room to deposit her in her crib, this time for her afternoon nap.

“Night-night, Becky-poo!” Erica said, patting her firmly on her padded bottom before she left. “See you when you wake up!”

Still sniffling, Becky buried her face in her pillow and quickly felt herself drifting off. She’d taken so many naps now that her body was used to it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and just as she drifted off to sleep, her bowels lurched into life once more, so that she could go through it all again. And again and again and again, until her adult mind finally broke forever, and she was left as a drooling, pants-filling baby for the rest of her days.

[enterprise-bee]

still thinking about how q and data struck up a friendship over both being outsiders to humanity looking in. something about data being the one who knew more about being human in that pair. something about q repeatedly telling data he wasn’t missing much when it came to emotions. something about data being consistently kind to q despite everything and q, despite everything, being kinder to data than he was to people around him. something very much about q giving data the gift of feeling laughter and glee as thanks before leaving.

anyway I think they stay in contact. data would 100% do space email back and forth with q and not tell anyone (see: that time he broke the prime directive because he’d befriended an alien child without telling anyone). q periodically like, sends data a rant and data replies with a picture of a cat. q asks why data is sending him a picture of a useless little creature and data says that he’d heard humans used them to cheer up. q says it’s pathetic that humans require even more pathetic creatures to be happy. data asks q if that’s why q keeps bothering the captain. q sends data a picture of a bizarre cat poster instead of answering. etc.

like I just think that them befriending each other was really sweet and want that to continue forward please tell me it turns up again,

[thatfandomslut]

Regina George's Sister

Cady Heron x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings: protective relationship, secret relationship

Request:

mayhaps a cady heron x reader where reader is regina’s sister and cady and reader have been secretly dating for months because neither of them want regina to find out but then regina ends up catching them kissing or something idk im bad at requests feel free to go nuts😭😭

Mean Girls requests are open.

A/N: I could not figure out how to end this, so please forgive me.

If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Regina post-Spring Fling, it was that she didn't change much. She was just kinder to Gretchen and Karen, who still loyally followed Regina along. She still instilled fear in those around her, even if she was much nicer than she had been. Once a Queen Bee regains her crown, it's hard to repossess it. This was the prime reason Cady and (Y/n) decided to keep their relationship a secret from the blonde due to how protective she was over her younger sister. The problem was, despite being together for the past three months, they were very bad at keeping their relationship a secret.

It was Janis and Damian who were the ones to usually catch them making out under the stairwell. Which is where they found Cady and (Y/n) today, too. The two were on their way to French class, and they typically met Cady there. Which is why they weren't surprised to see them locking lips, despite their usual desire to hide from Regina. It occurred to Janis and Damian that the two were starting to get comfortable with not getting caught, so they were becoming more careless.

"You know," Janis's words startled the two of them as they jumped apart from each other. The action caused Janis to smirk as Damian snickered at the two. "If you two continue to make out one of the biggest make-out corners, Regina is definitely going to find you two. Eventually, you're not going to get saved by Damian and me. So, stop being stupid, and find a less obvious make-out spot. Come on, Cady, we're going to be late."

Damian quirked his brow nosily at the two as he looked over (Y/n) before following Janis to their class. "She's kind of right," Cady said, her cheeks a bright shade of red having been caught for the fourth time by Janis and Damian that week. "We're getting careless, and if we don't want Regina to find out, we need to start doing better." She spoke with a type of seriousness in her voice that caused (Y/n) to smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Cady questioned, though due to the look (Y/n) gave, she had a hint as to what (Y/n) had running through her mind.

"Oh, nothing," (Y/n) teased before placing a gentle kiss on Cady's lips. Cady reciprocated easily, almost forgetting about just getting caught, and the fact that Janis and Damian were most likely waiting on the top of the stairs for her. "I just think you're cute when you're serious about things. You puff your cheeks out and narrow your eyes slightly, and you just look so determined. Anyways, see you after class, Brainiac. I love you."

(Y/n) kissed Cady's cheek as she exited the stairwell, leaving behind a very smiley Cady to join her very annoyed best friends. "I'm sick of these shenanigans, Cady. When are you just going to tell Regina to truth? She's gotten much nicer since you overthrew her at the Spring Fling. Well, I guess, we all overthrew her." Damian pondered on this, walking into the classroom and sitting in his usual seat beside Janis. Cady had turned her seat towards her friends, who were expecting an answer from her.

"She retook the crown, remember? She has too much pride to really learn a lesson. And, even if she is nicer, you both know how she is when it comes to (Y/n)." Cady reminded the group with a raised brow. She didn't necessarily want to talk about this. Every time they got into it, it was them trying to convince Cady to come clean, but that wasn't something (Y/n) wanted. "Besides, right now, (Y/n) also doesn't want to tell Regina, and I think it's important to make sure I don't just ignore her wants. I feel the same as her, too. I'm not ready for Regina to know."

Janis rolled her eyes as the teacher entered, disrupting their conversation. It was getting harder for her and Damian to divert the Plastics away from their usual make-out spots and to make up excuses. Janis and Damian were incredibly loyal, so they weren't just going to stop helping them, but at this point, the two of them needed to buck up and just talk to Regina.

After class, Cady met with (Y/n) for their shared free period, where they went to one of their usual spots. Janis knew where they were, and that's why she almost gave herself whiplash when she saw Regina headed in that direction. "Regina, you can't go that way. I think they're going construction or something." Janis blurted, knowing her excuse was horrible, but it was the only thing to come to mind at the time. And it was obvious that Regina didn't buy it.

"Oh, sure, Janis, they're doing construction on the hallway." Regina narrowed her eyes, wondering just how stupid Janis thought she was. She couldn't help but also feel annoyed at Janis's presence since she was trying to keep her from something. "I need something from my locker."

As Regina turned the corner, her eyes widened at Cady and (Y/n) tucked in a doorway, hidden from the view of most people. It wouldn't phase her if they weren't kissing each other to the point where both she and Janis were wondering if they could breathe. "What the fuck is going on here?" Regina crossed her arms. She hated when people didn't keep her in the loop almost as much as she hated seeing her younger sister kissing one of her friends. She felt slightly betrayed by both but was willing to hear out an explanation if it was good enough.

(Y/n) pulled away from Cady in shock before looking over to the strawberry blonde. "Regina, I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you like this…" She whispered out, looking at her shoes and rubbing her arm in disappointment. She never did well with hiding things from her sister. Cady noticed this as she placed a comforting hand on her arm. "Cady and I have been dating since the Spring Fling, we just didn't know how to tell you. Don't be mad at her, it was my decision to keep it a secret." (Y/n) explained, though the decision was mutual. She just didn't want Regina to be even more upset with Cady than she might be.

"I'm more upset that you two kept it a secret." Regina examined her sister. She always had a soft spot for (Y/n), and seeing her sister feel ashamed of herself made her feel a little bad. "I can forgive that you two kept it a secret as long as you two agree to not make out in spaces I might be in."

This was the closest to an approval that (Y/n) was going to get. Looking up with a smile, she hugged Regina happily. "Okay, deal," she said as her sister patted her back gently, narrowing her eyes at Cady briefly. The strawberry blonde looked sheepish before glancing away to avoid eye contact. Regina nodded at the fear she still instilled before releasing her sister. It was a bit weird to see them together, but it was nothing she couldn't get used to as she walked off to her locker.

"I told you two that you were going to get caught." Janis had her arms crossed with a small smirk. Saluting them gently, she turned back to return to the art studio that she was spending too much time away from.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hotel Room

PAIRING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2392

SUMMARY: changing plans midway into a mission in Tokyo- you, Tangerine and Lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train.

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. dry humping, pinv, unprotected sex, pull out. no use of y/n MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is my first post and im a little scared to post it, so please plz be kind. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible, however I accidentally made Tangerine kinder than I had originally planned and changed some things about the film plot so it doesn’t create a domino effect in this- aka Tan dying

rewritten 09/12/23 - no change to the plot, just made it less crap

"I don't think we should be getting this train," you mutter like you were talking to yourself, eyes darting across the busy platform of the station. "Guys?" you repeat, turning to see only Lemon behind you. "I don't think we should get this train."

"Yeah?" Lemon hums, sounding distracted.  

"I have a bad feeling. The next one is in thirty minutes. I say we wait," you respond, wary eyes glancing around.

Tangerine joins you both, looking over the tickets he just collected. "What's that now?" he questions, brows furrowed.

"I got intel someone I used to know might be on here," you murmur, avoiding the Twins' focused gaze.

"Like an ex?" Tangerine prods, his tone slightly cautious.

"No— stop it. I'm being serious," you emphasise, eyes squinting to show your annoyance.

Usually, when others act possessive around you, you'd turn the other way - having no interest in games. But when you talk about other guys in front of Tangerine, you'd often notice how his forehead vein would subtly protrude, like he was bubbling with rage from the inside - keeping it hidden. Though you'd always notice. It wasn't hard to tell when he was jealous. His quick, snappy comments are often the main giveaway.

"Alright, alright. Keep'ya knickers on, bellend," he scoffs, crossing his arms and widening his stance as if he was trying to intimidate you - which it doesn't.

"Okay, so, you remember Johannesburg? When we saw that guy— dirty blonde, mid-length hair? Facial hair? Yellow outfit. Looked like a prisoner? That one?" 

"No, not really," Lemon adds, shaking his head - looking clueless.

"Lemon. You shot him— a few times."

"No, not ringing a bell," he continues, just as clueless as before. "Oh, you mean Joburg?"

Tangerine pipes in, sighing. "Yes, you daft fuck."

"Well, I was just checking."

"Yeah, but it ain't important now, is it?" the twins bicker, overlapping each other.

"Oh my god," you mutter, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Right, anyway, none of that's important. I used to work with him— Ladybug, like way way way back. I got a tip-off he's gonna be getting this train, and he's clearly been assigned to snatch that case," you nod to the silver briefcase tucked under Lemon's arm. 

"We can keep the case safe. We got hired for that reason," Tangerine adds, subtly reassuring you. 

"No, no. That doesn't matter. He's seeing a new therapist, and he's got some weird fate, destiny thing protecting him— like everyone except him gets hurt. I dunno about you, but I don't really feel like getting shot at again today."

You look between the brothers, eyes softening like you are talking without words - telling them things to make them take your side, to make them see that you're trying to protect them. You find it harder to pull away from Tan's fixed blue gaze, feeling strangely hypnotised under his attention.

"Okay," Tangerine agrees simply. "We'll wait," he nods, extending his hands towards you, resting them on your shoulder as if he's comforting you - telling you in his own way that everything will be okay. He rips his hands away when he hears a cough from beside him - Lemon suspicious at the placement.

The kind gesture wasn't long-lived, but it helped. A lot.

You suggest staying in a nearby hotel for the night, offering to try again in the early hours of the morning. The case would be safe, and that's what mattered.

————

You and the twins walk into the quiet hotel lobby, asking for three rooms - preferably all next door to each other. Once collecting the key cards, you make your way up to your floor, letting yourselves into your rooms with a quick nod to one another, silently saying goodnight.

After the nonstop events of today, all you wanted was to shower. To wash away the grime of the day, literally.

You throw your overnight bag on the floor and do a quick sweep of the room to check it's safe, then head into the bathroom, stepping into the shower to begin a lengthy wash.

Afterwards, you pat yourself dry with a fluffy hotel towel, dressing in an oversized tee when you hear a few rhythmic knocks at the door. You look through the peephole to see a wet, curly-haired, ‘stached man - there was only one person that could be.

You tug on the hem of your t-shirt, covering your exposed thighs as you open the door, greeted by Tangerine on the other side wearing a baggy tee and a pair of boxers.

His eyes leisurely travel over you, slowly pulling away from your thighs that you subtly tried to hide. He coughs, clearing his throat like he's refocusing, diverting his attention from your lower half back to your fresh face.

"Just doing bed check. And you are... ahem," he masks the pause in another cough. "You are accounted for. So that's. That's good."

"Right, okay," you murmur, purposely keeping your gaze fixed on his face - stopping your eyes from glancing lower.

He hesitates, lingering like that wasn't all he knocked for. You wanted to invite him in. To hang out for a bit. But you get all finicky and squirrely when it's just the two of you, and you never know what to say or do. It was like you couldn't think straight, his aftershave and biceps acting like a barrier in your brain. Besides, it's not like anything can happen between you anyway - he didn't like you in that way.

He clears his throat once more, scratching the back of his neck. "My tv ain't working. I don't wanna watch Lem's shit, so can I watch some in your room?"

Letting out a small puff of a sigh, you agree and move aside, allowing him to walk past. He settles in almost instantly, shimmying himself under the covers and flicking through the channels, trying to find something good to watch.

You sit down awkwardly beside him, leaving a safe and comfortable gap between you, subtly scootching away when he moves closer to you.

"What's up with you? You're being well weird," he asks, diverting his attention from the Japanese game show to you, looking over you with furrowed brows.

"I'm not being weird. You're being weird," you divert, crossing your arms over yourself, trying to minimise space. "Just trying to get comfy."

"That's cos'ya hanging off the bed, knobhead. Get closer, then."

He swiftly pulls you closer, gently dragging you towards him so that both of you are leaning against the headboard, his arm draped over your shoulder.

It was the complete opposite of what you were trying to accomplish - now smushed up close to his side, forced to smell his masculine shower gel. You had no idea what to do with yourself.

You have only been this close in proximity a few times. And on those occasions, one of you would always be drunk - never to be brought up again. But when you're sitting so close to him, both completely sober, your brain can't help but stir up those feelings you've been trying to suppress.

Lewd and vulgar thoughts spiralled around when you feel the steady sound of his heartbeat against your arm, everything so casual and natural - like everything was a breeze with him. Your mind begins to wander when you feel him shift beside you, legs spreading, groin adjusting like he was making himself comfortable - like he was situating himself in your bed for the night.

In your line of work, you don't often experience genuine human interactions - ones that are soft and gentle, ones filled with tender love and care. Every encounter lately has ended in a blood bath - literally. 

So when you feel Tangerine's hand slip into yours, you can't help but overthink it. It was so unlike him to physically show how he felt, so it was tricky not to question his motives.

His thumb swipes over your hand, softly squeezing yours, so you decide to look up at him, but he is already focused on you - the tv a mere thought away. The way he looked at you was so unexpected, so different to all the other times. 

All you could offer under his concentrated attention was a faint and gentle smile, nose softly scrunching as you held his gaze. He returns with a boyish grin, tache twitching with the movement.

You momentarily break eye contact, quickly glancing down at his lips. You thought you were sneaky, but the way his breathing ever so slightly faltered told you otherwise. 

He slowly leans towards you, his movements articulate and calculated as he pulls you in for a kiss, working over your lips carefully and considerately. His large palms nestling on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - everything turning somewhat desperate. Hasty.

His mouth travels away from your slightly bruised lips, now working along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Muttering faint groans into your skin as you tug on the damp curls at the back of his head - holding him close to you.

Tangerine's movements remain dominant. In charge. Guiding you and bringing you down the bed, laying you flat on your back so he can situate himself between your spread legs - hovering atop of you with his chest pressed to yours.

His cock feels firm against you, tucked and slotted perfectly between your thighs, nudging and brushing your clit with every subtle move he makes. 

It wasn't long before you found yourself whimpering into his mouth and toying with your hips, the dry humping working you up more than you had thought.

He parts from your lips, looking into your hazy, blissed-out eyes -ones that mirror his own- and begins to lazily push up your tee, stroking up your stomach, exposing just what he wanted to see; plushy tits and cute soft tummy. 

You help him out of his t-shirt, wanting to see more. Eager fingers trailing over the contours of his stomach before pulling him back to you, his happy trail brushing against your abdomen - chests sandwiched together. 

He trails a faint line of kisses down your neck and along your collarbone as he slips himself from your grasp, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He picks up your hand, sliding his gold rings onto your fingers. "Look after these for me, would'ya?" he whispers, kissing the back of your hand.

It's then that he finally slips a hand between your legs, faintly trailing up and down your slit, teasing you as he palms his cock through his tented boxers, circling over the wet patch of fabric - right by his head.

His gaze remains lidded, lazily looking over you as he dips his hand into the waistband, rolling over his aching cock a couple of times. Your eyes respond pleadingly, silently begging him to hurry up.

Your keen fingers make haste movements, brushing over his boxers like you were trying to strip them from him - doing his job for him. 

He answers your prayers and tugs down the fabric, flinging his briefs to the edge of the bed, letting his thick, hard cock spring free. He grips himself at the base, guiding his head towards your slick hole - rimming his tip around before slowly easing in. 

He goes slow, steady. Like he has all the time in the world. Letting you adjust and accustom his size, deeply filling you. Bottoming out.

With his cock stuffed inside, he leans over you once more, hovering over you and caging you to the mattress - your arms and legs clinging onto him, wrapping around him like a monkey on a tree. 

"Fuck me," Tangerine blabbers, voice hoarse and incoherent. Hot grunts against your throat as he winds into you, cock grinding inside you. "Christ."

He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks, holding you still so he can lap over your lips, swallowing your whimpers - your sweet pretty sounds muffling against his tongue. 

Your touch mirrors his, moving your hands from his back to hold either side of his face, pushing away a stray curl that fell. Holding him close. Keeping him there.

Tangerine quickens the pace, fucking into you a little better. More deliberatly. The curve of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls in the most sinful way.

He chases your release, wanting to feel you shudder and tighten around him - wanting to feel you cum on his cock. So, he parts from your lips and trails messy open kisses over your cheek, halting when he reaches under your ear. 

"You feel so perfect wrapped around me—  you're so perfect," he hazily whispers, talking low. "God— yeah, that's it," he nods slowly, encouraging you. "You're right there, pretty girl. I can feel it."

With his soft praise, you find yourself gripping onto his dick, tightly clamping around him as you cum. Moaning sweet cries senselessly into the crook of his neck.

Your release triggers his own, pumping his thick, warm load onto your stomach, biting back broken groans as he milks the rest of his cum onto your jittering tummy. 

He leans back over you once more, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pushing himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Returning with a lusty smile and a wet washcloth, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, gently wiping it over your stomach before doing the same with his cock, rubbing the fabric over his leaking, messy tip.

"We should've done that years ago," you whisper, flattening your tee down your stomach.

"Fuckin' years ago," he coyly grins, raking back his now-dried curls.

Your smile widens, meeting his eyes. "You, uh... you can stay over? If you want... so you— you can watch tv?" you offer, trying to persuade him - finding a reason for him to stay.

"For the tv," he chuckles, nodding. Playing along

He slips into the bed beside you, tugging the covers up and settling himself next to you. His large, warm arms find you under the sheets, holding you to his side.

"We got an early start. Get some sleep, love," he whispers, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. "Goodnight."

[mah-t-wordblog]

Hi! Can you accept a Lee! Muichiro, Lers! Tanjiro and some hunters?

Referring to the last chapter, it could be that when Tanjiro asks Muichiro to be kinder to others and challenges him to a tickling competition, replacing the paper airplanes, and with the help of the others, they defeat him.

Please and thanks

I think I made some changes to your request, but nothing that affects the whole story, I hope you like it anyway!!!

You need to be kinder!

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Tanjiro Kamado

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Tanjiro ran to Muichiro, they were in the hashira’s mansion

“Muichiro!”

“Yes, Tanjiro?”

The redhead looked at the other

“My friends asked me to ask you something…” Tanjiro pointed to the other swordsmen who were hiding behind some trees for fear of Muichiro

The youngest didn’t understand

“What?”

“They wanted you to be more careful with your words, maybe if you spoke in a kinder way”

“But… am I not already much kinder than I used to be?”

Tanjiro smiled “that’s what I told them”

The other hunters sighed and thought they had no chance

“I don’t think I can solve your problem Tanjiro, I’m sorry” Muichiro was about to leave, but he felt someone tug on his sleeve

“Oh, you can’t? I’m sure you can” Tanjiro said in a more threatening voice

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” The blue-haired boy exclaimed in fright

The swordsmen hidden in the background of the scene began to get even more scared of Tanjiro, what was that boy up to? What was he going to do with Tokito?

“Come here!” Tanjiro jumped on top of the other

The hunters thought they would start fighting

But… did they hear laughter?

Muichiro was laughing out loud, they had never heard the Hashira laugh like that

“T-Tanjiro?” One of the swordsmen asked

“It’s okay, don’t worry, I always tickle Tokito to get what I want”

“TAHAHANJIROHOHO” Muichiro tried to stop him, he was blushing and very embarrassed that the others were seeing him like that

“Come on! Come on! You can help me, don’t worry, Muichiro won’t get mad, right?” The redhead asked his victim, he really wouldn’t mind but he was too embarrassed to admit it

A hunter had the courage to do what Tanjiro suggested, approaching to help

Then there were two more

Soon there was a person on each of Muichiro’s sensitive spots

“PLEHEHEAHAHSEHE”

“How about being more gentle?” Tanjiro teased

“I’LL DOHOHO ANYHYTHIHIHING”

Tanjiro asked with his hands for the others to stop

Muichiro covered his face

“You’re embarrassed Mui” Tanjiro asked “no need to be”

“We all feel ticklish” a hunter said “for example…” that boy tickled a friend next to him

The same one retaliated

A little while later two more started to fight

After a while, those people turned into a giant ball of tickling

Thousands of loud laughter and screams coming from all sides

“We can all be friends, right Tanjiro?” Muichiro said, smiling

“Of course we can!”

“I hope all these people live long lives, and can laugh always”

Tanjiro smiled and pocked Muichiro, the youngest laughed

“Hey! Your turn!” He jumped on Tanjiro

Soon the two had already joined the great tickle fight

The laughter was contagious and it was very good to hear

After that day Muichiro really was kinder to the other hunters, he felt more comfortable with them, and Tanjiro fulfilled the desperate request of his friends

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛