#but he always acts like he deserves more than me

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond x brothel reader 👀

So what if instead of Aemond visiting the older woman in yesterday’s episode - he goes to the brothel and immediately regrets it and is about to leave until he sees reader and is mesmerized by her beauty. They have their little moment and she gives him comfort. Definitely feel free to add more or change anything! This is just a thought that I’d like to see created. Thank you!

Request: Aemond and a brothel girl (maybe a dancer idk) like the scene in the episode. Except they are more intimate and not weird age gap like the madam. It gave me the ick… He truly feels for her.

Warnings: mention of (past) character death, mommy issues,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The mysterious customer under a cloak all piqued your curiosity. You never had the chance of properly seeing him, always immediately escorted to a private bed. Some girls said he was disfigured, and that it was the reason he covered himself with a cloak. Some said it was Aegon Targaryen, but you knew the newly crowned King favored Flea Bottom’s whores. 

As you danced, your eyes would try to see through the veils he hid behind. To get a glimpse of him. But you never saw anything other than his bare feet. All you knew was that he was with Madam Sylvi and that he requested hot milk.

One late evening, you saw him leaving the veils. His cloak was on, but he saw you. He saw you dancing and moving your naked body to the rhythm of the music, entertaining the customers. 

The next time he came by, he asked for you. 

Madam Sylvi was not pleased, but he was the paying customer. 

You reminded him of his mother — physically —, but more caring and nurturing. He found your voice soothing and loved to rub himself against the fullness of your breasts, making your nipples harden to the stimulation, until he came to rest his cheek on top of it, humming in satisfaction. His mother let him do this as a child, when she was still comforting him, and he missed it. 

Every night, he would curl against you, or in your lap, and stay here for hours as you gently caressed his pale skin. Unlike the other customers, Aemond was not there for sexual satisfaction. He just wanted comfort.

‘’Daemon sent them to kill me,’’ he said, his naked body shielded by the veils circling the large bed. ‘’It was my head they wanted, not my innocent little nephew’s.’’

Your heart was heavy as the prince mentioned the murder of Jaehaerys — a child. The barbarous act had everyone in tears. 

You rubbed his arm gently, the aroma of calming lavender wrapping around you. ‘’But you were with me.’’

‘’I feel sorry for my brother and sweet sister. She is traumatized.’’ Guilt filled his stomach as he remembered the suffering and painful grief in Helaena’s eyes. ‘’I should be grateful they did not find me, but a part of me wishes they had. Unlike my little nephew, I would have been able to defend myself.’’

‘’We cannot change the past, my prince.’’ 

‘’I know,’’ Aemond whispered, his cold, princely facade completely down in your company. He sighed deeply as your gentle caresses soothed his weary soul. His body relaxed as he buried his face into your covered chest, seeking solace in your warmth and tenderness. ‘’There’s a lot I would change about the past if I could. I…I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it.’’

You stroked his hair gently, the soft, silvery locks running through your fingers. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away as he rested against you.

Aemond's eye closed at your touch, and a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘’They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. One time, in the dragonpit, they…they said they found me a dragon. It was a pig. And my brother was part of the prank.’’

’'That was cruel of them,'’ you said softly, leaning to kiss his temple. He leaned into your touch as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. ‘’They were cruel to you, my prince. You didn't deserve their taunts and mockery.'’ 

You felt his hand reaching up and palming your breasts through your clothing. Getting the hint of what he wanted, you untied the front of your dress and freed your breasts. Immediately, Aemond’s mouth started to press kisses over them before. His hot tongue swiped over your nipple. You let him do what he desired, knowing this was his way of finding comfort. The warmth of his hand and the wetness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused on his needs.

As Aemond continued his sweet assault on your breasts, you noticed his cock was getting hard against his thigh, but didn’t mention it. Madam Sylvi never touched him there...or kissed him. Only you — when he asked for it. 

The music outside the curtains changed, and he shifted, letting go of your breasts to curl up with his head on your lap instead. You continued to rub his shoulder down to his back, then along his thigh and leg. 

‘’When I claimed Vhagar, I felt powerful.’’ 

His pride and confidence had swelled to an almost unmanageable extent when he returned to Driftmark. He was excited to tell Aegon, and his mother about Vhagar. But his cousins and nephews found him first. They got into a fight over the dragon…and Lucerys Velaryon took out his eyes. 

As if you read his thoughts, your finger brushed the scar going through his eyebrow. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. 

‘’Was it why you went after Luke that day? Because you wanted him to be afraid of you and your superior dragon?’’ 

Aemond grew still at the mention of Lucerys, the memory of that fateful day on Storm’s End, the catalyst of the brewing war, still fresh in his mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes... In a way, I suppose so.’’ 

You hummed, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone softly. 

Aemond wished he could take you to the Keep. To his chambers. It would be nice to not have to hide under a cloak at night and risk getting seen by anyone who shouldn’t. He wished you would be there, in his bed, when he would return from small council meetings, training or even just supper, to take care of him and hold him.

But that was impossible. His mother would never allow it.  

—

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[utilitycaster]

I feel like the way I think about Ludinus Da'leth is like...the Anti-Vespin. There's the basic actions they performed - both unleashed something long-sealed, but Vespin Chloras intended to destroy what he perceived to be a sealed danger, and Ludinus is using Predathos as a weapon. However, what strikes me is how the two of them have acted so far towards other mortals rather than the existential threats they've tangled with.

I suspect Ludinus is bringing in Bells Hells not because he expects them to join him, but because he really, really wants someone to validate his plan that is ultimately just a monument to his choice to wallow and make Exandria worse for it. No one likes him. He's not Ruidusborn; he can't commune with the Weave Mind and the Reilora the way others can. Liliana is in pretty deep but she's wavering, Zathuda resents him (and it seems to be mutual) and Otohan's dead. The Assembly is crumbling and the Empire's not doing well either, and the world has to an extent united against him.

Vespin chose, in his brief moment of clarity after he had unleashed the Betrayers and lost himself, to do what he could to improve Zerxus's lot, expressed anguish and remorse for his actions and his legacy, and said that he hoped the Ring of Brass would be given more grace by history. He was willing to accept the title of villain, despite being something much more complicated, because in the end he understood that giving the world a chance to survive was far more important than clearing his own name.

Ludinus, on the other hand, is fighting against historical strawmen. His resentment towards the gods is just that: a burning resentment. He could have left his mark by rebuilding post-Divergence Exandria. Instead, his legacy is one of rot, war, hatred, and corruption, from Molaesmyr to the War of Ash and Late to the Bloody Bridge. He could have been an architect of the modern age for the better. He could have tried to revive Aeorian magic and culture, and, as I've discussed, potentially even the people. He instead focused only on a centuries-long goal of destruction out of sheer spite.

Vespin was willing to shoulder any insult, deserved or not, for the rest of eternity because he understood it was less important than doing whatever he could in the few moments he had to mitigate harm. Ludinus is willing to destroy anything to retaliate for an insult.

Ludinus is livid about being robbed of an age he never got to see by the gods; and quite possibly, with the destruction of Molaesmyr, killed some of its last survivors outside exceptions such as himself. He claims to hate the gods' uneven blessings yet his alliance - and reliance - on Ruidusborn sorcerers has always made it clear that was a lie. And none of this will bring back the world he lost, and indeed, may very well set society back further.

He will tear everything apart out of hurt feelings and a desire to be correct when he could have left a shining legacy. It is the opposite of a heroic sacrifice; a petty, small self-destruction. I think he wants Bells Hells to tell him it was worth it. And I don't think they will.

[msnameless]

I dont know if u write dubcon but can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write a reader who’s self esteem is so low that she decides to break up with gojo only for gojo to aggressively ruin her insides + body worship hehe

I'm not sure if I captured the vibe but i tried lol.

feel free to send asks as alw

❍ ࣪⁎⁺Insecurity⁎⁺˳ .

Gojo Satoru x Reader

You try to break up with Gojo Satoru due to your insecurity but he's having none of that.

(1.5k words, oneshot)

"I can't do this anymore."

"Do what anymore, sweetheart?" Gojo cocked his head and grinned at you mischievously.

"Us, I don't...I just can't. I'm sorry," you stood up and began leaving much to Gojo's alarm.

"Woah woah, hold your horses, little missy," your wrist was tugged back by your boyfriend-turned-ex. Gojo was upon you in a flash.

"Where do you think you're running off to?"

A pair of electric blue eyes burned into yourself as Gojo peered at you intensely. His gaze scanned over you as if trying to uncover a conceivable reason why you'd want to end the relationship. You felt your hairs prick up and shoved him away, mortified.

The silence that hung between the both of you stretched into forever, though in reality, it lasted for merely 3 seconds. Gojo looked astounded, all traces of playfulness now gone.

"What do you mean?" he asked concerned.

"Look, if this is about your leftovers that I-"

"Gojo, please just leave me alone," you begged earnestly, hoping your voice wouldn't break and lead to a meltdown.

You wanted to leave before it could happen, stumbling out the door, heading straight home.

The truth was you had always noticed the sheer gap between you and Gojo in all aspects possible, whether it be in terms of physical attractiveness or power. Everyone knew Gojo Satoru, the most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer in the world, the only one to have been born with the Six-Eyes and limitless technique in the last 400 years. He drew eyes whenever he walked into a room, that confident stride promising an easygoingness that came from knowing you would always be far above everyone else.

You knew what people must've thought when they saw you as his girlfriend. You were a mere wallflower, not even deserving of a second glance. You hated it whenever people stared at you for a second longer than you thought necessary, imagined their withering judgement as they took you in with disdain. You felt your clothes tighten, and every flaw on your body became more noticeable than ever.

You compared yourself with just about anyone. Gojo was surrounded by plenty of attractive people such as Shoko Ieiri, and you felt like an ugly duckling amongst them. But you had to hide it. After all, you were Gojo Satoru's girlfriend.

Thus, you began trying to change yourself in a desperate hope that you'd be happier with yourself, going on diets, and working out rigorously.

Nothing ever lasted. You would always go back to your normal self. Disgusting self, was what you thought. The mirror was a dreadful reminder of what you were when you glanced into it every day, and soon that got covered up, too, like your body. All the while, you acted your usual on the outside, keeping up the mask that served to hide your self-loathing.

Things escalated when you feared physical contact with Gojo, thinking that whenever he hugged you from behind, all your rolls of fat could be felt. The insecurity became so crippling that you were utterly miserable until you finally decided to end your relationship with him.

For the next 2 days, you kept to yourself at home, ignoring the incessant texts from Gojo before you blocked him. You thought things were finally over until your door got broken down, blasted open on its hinges by Gojo.

"Oops, didn't mean to be so rough," he shrugged as he strode in.

"Now then. Enough is enough."

The next second, you were lifted up and set in front of Gojo.

"What's your problem, lady? You thought you could just break up with me without a reasonable explanation?" he scoffed.

"Tell me why or I'm not leaving," he demanded.

You tried to speak, but a lump in your throat left you mute. How would you begin to explain the inferiority you felt compared to him? Gojo waited for you patiently, but your voice had vanished.

"If this is about thinking you're not good enough, you'd better stop now," Gojo warned.

He snickered at your questioning look.

"I'm more observant than people give me credit for. Did you think I wouldn't see the way you shy away from my hugs?" he pouted before sighing dramatically.

"This is an emergency, I can't have my sweetheart hating herself, now can I?" he mumbled, hand holding his chin in thought.

"Got it! I guess I'll just have to drill it into you then," he smirked, eyes darkening as he pressed feather kisses from your forehead to your eyes, cheeks, lips, neck, making his way down slowly. Compared to his kisses, his rough hands caressed your body urgently, kneading and stroking all the places where you used to allow him to do so before growing insecure.

"I love you here, here, here..." he whispered sensually, starting to life your shirt over your head but you stopped him, afraid of being bared.

"Don't-"

Gojo silenced you with a kiss, biting harshly on your lips.

"Uh-uh, let me work my magic and make you feel real good, kay?" Gojo grinned maniacally.

You didn't dare to speak under his feral gaze and he took it as a sign to continue.

The air hummed with electricity. You felt your body flush as the room turned stuffy, becoming indescribably hot. Gojo's touches burned your skin and you could feel a raw desire pooling in your stomach as his fingers danced all over the curves and dips of your body.

You were helpless under Gojo's ministrations and soon laid under him in all your glory.

It had been too long for Gojo since he was allowed to admire you. After all, you had distanced yourself from him and it was now time to make up for what he missed out on. Gojo paused his teasing and looked down at you before opening his mouth.

"Buckle up, sweetheart."

All you remembered of the next few hours was pure bliss as well as you and Gojo chanting each other's names like a mantra. He slammed into you over and over again, never faltering, all while whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Your body was stretched to its limits and the sensations made you see stars in your vision. It was too much yet never enough at the same time.

His long and slender fingers constantly prodded in and out of you, swiping and circling where he knew it felt irresistible. Impossibly quick, tantalizingly slow; over and over again in a vicious cycle, to the point where it had you begging for his sadistic torture to end, granting you release. Gojo knew your body better than yourself, and could rely on his deft fingers alone to strip you of your defenses.

Gojo worked himself to the bone, playing you like an instrument expertly as you tried but failed to stifle noises that would make a sailor blush.

You almost came multiple times, just for Gojo to stop after driving you to the edge and pulling you back again. He frowned at you in mock disappointment.

"I don't like it when you cover yourself," he taunted derisively. From then on, Gojo made sure your mouth was free to make any noise he wanted you to, unless of course he chose to fill it up himself personally.

The taste of salt and passion permeated your senses, prompting you to understand exactly what it meant to be claimed by Gojo.

Ruffling your hair, Gojo kept praising you, coaxing climaxes out from your body time after time. It was almost too much and you trembled from the insistent stimulation.

"Just like that, one more time? You're doing so well," he cooed. Even if you couldn't, you had to. Gojo never halted his actions to let you catch your breath. In and out, in and out, Gojo moved at a speed that was more beast than man. You howled his name, unsure if you were pleading for him to cease and desist or continue.

As the moon shone and sparkled in its obsidian tapestry that was the peaceful night, you and Gojo danced the devil's tango, with Gojo leading. Bodies colliding, breaths mixing, hands entangling, your eyes never dared to leave Gojo's as he demonstrated personally his affections towards you.

He had you enchanted with the way he looked, groaning at the sight of you and kissing anywhere he could on your body. Saliva and sweat pooled together, glimmering on your skins.

Gojo's eyes sparkled brighter than the stars as he stared down at your body ardently, raking over everything. Bodies still connected, he clasped your hand and linked your fingers together, bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours, Gojo kissed every single one of your knuckles.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" he sighed.

"I never want to stop loving your body."

The next morning, your body was littered with black and purple marks, a reminder of what went down the night before. You stumbled getting out from bed and was caught in Gojo's embrace. He chuckled amusedly, hair tousled from slumber.

"Woah there, looks like someone had too much fun last night. Your legs still working or nah?" he teased.

You shrieked and whacked him in response.

"Seriously, I love you just the way you are. You're gorgeous in my eyes and that's all that matters," Gojo mumbled, head lying above yours.

Gojo's voice then took on a more lethal edge.

"Or do we have to start this ritual of worshipping you every night?"

[zweiginator]

bestfriend’s brother patrick….oh i fear i need more of this hehehe

im at your service

and just expanding on the previous ask.... patrick refuses to fuck you. is repeating it to himself like a mantra whenever he sees you.

dontdoitdontdoitdontdoit.

he keeps his promise for awhile. til the end of july. that's when his little sister and you bring over two guys for a movie night. seems innocent enough. patrick shouldn't care. he doesn't care.

he's just supervising. making sure these boys aren't creeps. watching over his little sister and her cute little best friend.

the boy you're with is putting his arm around you. moving his hands under the blanket. patrick kicks them out.

"i'm older and i'm in charge. i want them out. fucking weridos."

they listen to patrick immediately. he's pissed and he's way stronger and taller.

and you're mad because you only invited them over because patrick had been refusing to touch you since that night. you try and try and try to entice him, but nothing is working. you weren't meaning to make him jealous.

patrick's sister just goes to bed; the whole thing was your idea anyway. but you are mad.

patrick notices you look different.

"doing your makeup all slutty for some stupid boys?" he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. your red lip gloss stains his finger.

"don't call me that!" you yell, knowing he will tell you to shut up. maybe he'll make you.

"be quiet." he says it calmly. "i'm just saying. whoring yourself out is gonna put you down a bad path."

now he's just trying to piss you off. he knows you're smart and kind and respectable. you were a goody-two-shoes up until last year.

"you're the one always whoring yourself out--so far i've counted five girls this summer? no--six."

"very funny." he says, against the shell of your ear.

"why do you even care anyway?" you ask. patrick is leading you outside; he shuts the glass door behind you.

he knows this will do you in. push that final button. "you're like a little sister to me. just want what's best."

he knows you'll yell and huff and prove to him that no you're not. not at all.

he can always say you came onto him first. they wouldn't believe him, of course. not with his track record.

you start unbuttoning his shirt, clawing at him, pulling him in by the waistband. his sister's bedroom window faces the backyard.

"jesus fucking christ." he throws you over his shoulder, takes you to the pool shed.

he unties his shorts; he's still in those swim trunks of his that hug his thighs.

"i'll fuck you." he says. "i'll fuck you right here. and you're not going to tell anyone." his grasp is strong on your jaw and you whimper.

"won't tell anyone. i promise."

he pushes your shorts down, his other hand fondling your bare tits from underneath a t-shirt he recognizes as his own.

"did you go through my fucking closet?" he pulls your hair.

you giggle. "maybe."

"god, you're a slut. don't even deserve this."

you push your ass back on his cock and he's in heaven. maybe you don't deserve this but he does. he rubs himself between your folds, nudges your clit with the tip of his cock until your legs shake so hard that patrick has to hold you up.

pushes himself inside.

"so, big. feels so good." you bounce your ass back on him, listening to how he groans. they're deep from within his throat, animalistic.

you didn't think you could like anything better than when he fingered you two months ago. but you like how mean he is. pounding into you. calling you names, his hand around your throat.

you know it's all a facade. when he's close to cumming, he drops the act. holds your hips and tilts your head to give you sloppy kisses. he tells you how wet your pussy is, how tight you are.

"can you feel how deep i am?"

you nod. you love it. you think you love him.

you take him all. tell him that you're not a slut always--it's just for him. his voice cracks when you say this, hot ropes of cum coating you with him.

god, he hopes you can keep a secret.

[mattslutt]

liar M.S

includes: smoking, cursing, yelling, angst, fluff, make-up sex, pet names.

summary : matt got addicted to smoking. he never tells the reason.

It all started when me and Matt would both smoke together once or twice when we would hang out together and it was just our thing together. just us.

However it seemed like Matt viewed it as a more than just “us” thing as he began smoking alone. a lot. At first I promised myself not to think about it a lot and act like it doesn’t bother me but in fact it bothered me a lot, i just didn’t say anything cuz i didn’t want to make him mad.

Since it’s been bothering you for quite some time right now you decided to call him out for it.

You were chilling with him at his place on the top of the roof, playing some music and just having conversation as usual.

“Matt?”.

“Mmm?”.

“What is up with you smoking more often”.

He turns to look at you as he blows out the smoke.

“Huh?”.

I tilt my head a bit and look him with a ‘c’mon’ face expression. He sighs as he turns away and looks up to the sky.

“I don’t know”.

silence

“I just want to, okay?”.

I knew he was lying. He wasn’t telling me fully.

“Okay”.

My tone was off and cold, thought that would be a signal to Matt but he didn’t even realise.

I bend both of my knees and wrap my arms around them as I rest my head on them. Matt turns to look at me and rolls his eyes a bit.

“Why are you being so fucking dramatic? It’s not a big of a deal.”, he scoffs with his hand as he continues blowing out the smoke.

“My bad that I care about you”.

“I’ll be fine”, Matt speaks as he sounds a bit annoyed.

“You know what?”, I finally loose my temper as I start to stand up and get off the roof.

“Woah woah, where are you going?”, Matt stands up also as he stops me.

“I fucking hate seeing you like this”, I finally snap at him and look into his eyes.

“You’ve got to be joking? All this over me smoking? You know what. Fine”, Matt throws the cigarette on the ground and steps on it while looking at me.

“Happy now?”, he sighs as he raises his hands to the air.

“I would be happier if you would throw that damn pack away”, I say this as I step closer to him and look into his eyes angrily. Matt backs up a bit, shocked.

“Why do you have to be so fucking dramatic?”, Matt snaps back.

“Do I really need to repeat myself?”, I start yelling at him.

“Calm down, jeez”.

“What is wrong with you?”, I whisper under my breath.

“What?”.

“What the fuck is wrong with you.?”, I yell at him.

He freezes in place.

“Not communicating with me properly? Hiding something from me? Not telling me why you’re suddenly addicted to smoking now? I hate that you’re lying to me.”, i continue yelling at him.

He doesn’t speak at all. I look at him as I sigh and get off the roof. I walk into the triplets house, Nick was in the kitchen who tried to greet me but I immediately went upstairs.

I sat in Matt’s room for an hour alone collecting my thoughts as well as waiting for him to come back.

Finally the door swings open as Matt walked in, slowly closing the door behind him. I stand up from his bed and I walk closer to him as he keeps getting closer to me as well. Resting his palms on my cheeks he whispers;

“I’m sorry”.

I look into his eyes waiting for more words to be spat out of him.

“I’m so sorry for being distant. You deserve to know everything and I’m sorry for not telling you”, he speaks calmly and softly as his hands slowly travel down my whole body. He lifts me up making me wrap my legs around his waist, crashing his lips onto mine as he carries us to the bed, not breaking the kiss.

He softly laid me down onto the bed, placing kisses around my whole body.

“‘Matt”, I whisper.

“I know baby, I know”.

He was so so sweet and gentle right now.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole”.

I did not break eye contact. Not at all.

He finally leaned in to kiss me again, this time way more needy, more sloppy. I knew what was gonna happen. He would always do this. The moment we have a very strong argument about something, he makes it up by having sex; strong sex, soft sex, angry sex. any sex in particular.

I knew that i definitely wasn’t complaining because he would always make me feel satisfied.

He slowly started placing kisses on my neck as he started to undo my shirt as well as undoing my pants.

His lips are always so kissable that I could never get enough from him. He took of my shirt fully as I helped him. He started to kiss my chest as he slowly removed the bra straps.

“You’re so beautiful”, as he continued to kiss every part of my body softly.

“Liar”, I whisper as I tease him.

He looks up at me as he fully removes my bra

“I might lie about my addiction, but would never lie about how beautiful you are and how insane you make me feel”, he whispers into my ear.

I just felt butterflies flying around my whole body. He always knew his way with words.

I flipped him over and got on top of him as I stated to desperately kiss him as my hands slid under his shirt and were placed on his chest. I felt him softly groan into the kiss which always made me fold, now matter how many times I’ve heard him like that.

I removed his shirt as I leaned into kiss him again. His hands were squeezing my breasts as he sighed deeply into the kiss. I felt him grow under me. I purposely started grinding on him. His grip thighed on my thighs as he pulled away from the kiss.

“Teasing me already aren’t we?”, he whispered under his breath.

“Indeed”, I whisper as I lean in to kiss his neck.

He groans softly as he grabs me softly by my face and leans in to kiss me

“I need you so bad right now”, he whispers under his breath between the kisses.

“I’m all yours”, I whisper back.

He flips me over so he would be on top as he slowly starts to take off his jeans. He throws them on the ground as he immediately helps me take of my pants. He trails his fingers around my thong and already wet folds.

He slowly slides off the thong and inserts his fingers inside me making me throw my head back. he watched me the whole time, my facial expression, everything. he slowly fastened the peace making me moan, he immediately leaned to kiss as me as he continued to finger me.

“Shhhh, baby. We don’t want Chris and Nick to hear us, don’t we?”, he whispered softly. I nodded no as he smiled at me and continued to kiss me.

He fastened the peace even more causing me to lift my hips up as i started to whine.

“Quiet, baby”, he whispered.

“I’m close”, I warned him.

“Good. Don’t hold it in, come for me”.

My juices released all over his fingers as he praised me. I watched him take off his boxers as his cock sprung out leaking with pre-cum already. I gulp at his size every time.

“Relax, I’ll be gentle”.

He gets on top of me as he slowly inserts inside me causing me to close my eyes and whine. He pushed deep inside me and begins to thrust slowly.

“Feels so good”, I whisper under my breath.

“Yeah?”, he teases me as he leans in to kiss me. He slowly fastens the thrusting peace as well as deepening the kiss.

“Fuck, Matty. This feels so good”, I whine.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm”, I whisper.

He smiles at me as he leans in to kiss me again fastening the peace.

I felt myself getting close as just squeezed my eyes shut

“I’m close”.

“I’m close too”, Matt whines out as with one last final thrust both of our climaxes release. Matt collapses next to, gasping for air as he looks at me. I look back at him.

“Baby, I promise I’ll communicate with you from now on”.

“You better not be lying”.

Matt places a kiss on my forehead as he plays with my hair while smiling.

“I won’t be a liar anymore”.

____________________________________________

after a long ass break im finally back. deleted ALL of my fanfics and completely started a new theme so this is a fresh new start. sorry if this is kinda ass writing.

taglist: @hoesformatt @sturncrazy @sturnsblunt @plasticferal @55sturn @freshloverr @graysturns

[incogrio]

k.th - escape with me

pairing: taehyun x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort except i’m bad at writing the hurt part

synopsis: taehyun tries to make up for not being able to go out in public w u. ends up trying to act tough in an escape room.

warnings: poorly written all around, angst, tae is kinda mean, reader is cringy, members make fun of tae

w/c: 1.5k+

a/n: okay so. this took so long to write bc ya boy has been STRUGGLING w both motivation and the wifi in costa rica. i kinda gave up at the end, pls forgive me :( once im back in the states, ill be writing much better fics! and i’ll be accepting requests for enhypen too!!!!! (might be a little inaccurate as i am currently getting into them) ANYWAYS LOVE YALL I HOPE YOU DONT KILL ME FOR HOW BAD THIS IS!!!

taehyun was, in many ways, your dream boy. he was affectionate, protective, caring, funny, and he always listened.

except for when he couldn’t.

you were currently in your third fight of the week with your boyfriend of a few months. the topic of your arguments never wavered: you could never be seen in public with him. actually, scratch that. you could be in public with him. it’s not like you wanted a huge display of affection right in the middle of the streets of seoul. you did, however, want to feel like your relationship with your boyfriend wasn’t so one sided.

“tyun, please, stop.” you cried, resting your head in your hands whilst seated on the couch.

“no, you have to listen! i can’t give you what you want, y/n. if only you stopped being so selfish.”

and then, footsteps. a door slamming. blood began rushing to your ears and manifesting itself as tears cascading down your cheeks. he never called you by your real name. he never left you in the middle of a fight. he never made you sob without consoling you. he never.

it wasn’t until two days later that you heard from taehyun in forms other than ‘did you eat?’ texts and doordash notifications. three heavy knocks erupted from the side of taehyun’s fist and the wooden door. the same door that you had been seated at everyday for hours, awaiting his return.

“angel, are you there?” he asked, his voice clearly strained from sobbing or yelling, or both. you didn’t respond, but he noticed your shadow sitting on the ground via the slit between the door and the floor.

he sighed as he slowly adjusted himself to sit with his side and head leaning against the wood.

“you don’t have to open up. just listen, yeah? can you listen for me, doll?” he asked rhetorically. “i am so sorry, angel. you… you deserve so much more than i am able to give you. so much more than hiding and sneaking around and figuring out disguises. you deserve your praises shouted from the rooftops.” taehyun sighed.

a pregnant pause. “i talked to hybe. that’s… that’s what i’ve been doing. i told them how much it’s been hurting us. and i think we can make this work! if you want to, angel… please, please want to.”

you sniffle. “i do.” taehyun closed his eyes and sighed dreamily at the sound of your voice. he allowed himself to cry for a moment, biting his lip to quench his whines.

“thank you, baby.”

a few days later, taehyun is in the back of txt’s van, accompanied by all the members and you. he had promised you that you’d be able to go on actual dates, as long as they were slightly modified. restaurants would be cleared out of people, and staff were to sign an nda. parks were to be closed off to the general public due to “maintenance”. movie theaters were to be kept completely dark at all times, with only you two and the staff not even being allowed to know who the famous person was. it was not a normal relationship, far from it, but it was yours. and he cared enough to try for you.

today, you were on your way to an escape room. txt were already filming a “to-do” episode in this specific location, and taehyun managed to convince the staff to give him a separate escape room to do with you after the filming had ended. you were ecstatic when he told you, and he was ecstatic that you were no longer crying because of him.

except, for a few days ago, when he told his beloved members of the plans.

“you’re taking… them… to an escape room? you’re a scaredy cat.” soobin noted with a scrunched up face in confusion. tyun’s happy smile slowly deflated, his eyes uncrinkling as he thought about what he said.

beomgyu immediately burst out laughing, “you’re gonna embarrass yourself! oh my god- you should record it too!” taehyun immediately rolled his eyes, and pretended his members words didn’t get to him. kai immediately went up to him and patted his back silently.

so now, as he sits next to you he’s fidgeting with his shorts, looking out the window as his sweat becomes more frequent. would you think he was a loser if he got scared? would you break up with him? make fun of him? prefer kai because of his calmness when it comes to jumpscares?

he began bobbing his leg up and down, gnawing at his lip as the van finally pulled up to the filming location. taehyun tried his best to calm himself for the filming, but found that the members had to say his nerves were from fear of the jumpscares.

what felt like too long and too little time passed, and suddenly you were both being told the synopsis of your goal by the escape room manager.

as you both walk inside the dimly lit, extremely decorated gigantic cage, you slip your hand into taehyuns.

“i’m a little nervous…” you muttered, and he felt a glimpse of both hope and bravery blossom in his chest.

a small smile graced his lips, “don’t worry, i’ll protect you!” he said with his teeth sticking out from behind his lips. he looked adorably unthreatening. immediately after, a booming recording welcomed you into the chamber.

“WELCOME LAB RATS!” it shouted, causing you both to jump, “DONT WORRY! YOU WONT BE IN THIS CAGE SOON! SOON, YOU’LL BE JUST LIKE HIM!” and suddenly! the roof pops open and a giant, fake rat corpse falls to the ground. you immediately shriek and hide behind taehyun, and he gulps in fear as he tries his best to maintain his composure.

he reaches behind him with one hand, holding your waist softly as he tries to simultaneously comfort the both of you, and uses his free hand to stuff his closed fist into his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle his scream.

you slowly creep out from behind him, realizing how obviously fake the rat was and that you had missed all of the clues the fake doctor had given you during the rest of his monologue. oh well, you think, and look to tae.

“are you…” you laugh a little, “are you okay?” you ask incredulously as you witness his biting on his fist. he looks up, immediately dropping his fist and shoving his tough guy act back on.

he nods, clenching his jaw and trying to keep a straight face.

oh, you think. oh this is going to be fun.

you insist on splitting up, looking around a comically food bowl and finding various clues and seemingly random items.

tae is behind you on the other side of the cage. he reaches his hand inside the giant pile of fake hamster shavings, straining his neck to keep his eyes barely looking at the scene in front of him. as he combs through the shavings, his hands wrap around a small, cylindrical object. he shrieks in fear, launching back and landing on his butt before crawling over to you.

he clears his throat pointlessly, “um… something is over there…” he says, voice wavering despite his want to seem fine.

you have to bite your lip in order to hold back your laughter. you walk over, kneeling at the shavings.

he whined out a small, “ahh!!!” as he closed his eyes and turned away, only hearing you reach inside. you pull out what looked to be a kaleidoscope. you decide to have some fun.

“i got it,” you mutter, and he slowly turns back towards you. “wait what the… AHHHHH!!!!” you start screaming in faux terror when you lifted it up to look through it, throwing it across the cage. taehyun, despite his fear, rushes up next to you, holding your cheeks in his palms and squishing them together slightly.

“are you okay?” he asked, nervousness obvious in his boba eyes.

you shake your head and pout dramatically, “you look and see!!” you insist.

he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and slowly going up to the kaleidoscope as though it would reach out and bite him. he brings it up to his eye, and tilts his head.

“there’s nothing?” he remarks in tiny english, to which you grow genuinely confused at. you were being dramatic, yes, but before you saw a beautiful design with letters and numbers throughout.

“what?” you walk up, looking through it. and again, darkness. you slowly lower it from your eye, bringing a hand to cover your mouth in shock. “oh my god i broke it.”

“huh?”

“TYUN I WAS BEING DRAMATIC SO I COULD SCARE YOU BUT OH MY GOD I BROKE IT.”

he stares at you in disbelief, before letting out a few giggles and looking up at one of the cameras in the room.

“can we still complete the escape room?” he asked, scratching the back of his head as he ignored your cackling.

they only hear a sigh, before being promptly kicked out of the building.

long story short: next time, just ask your beautiful boba eyed boyfriend to take you bowling. he’d still embarrass himself, but at least the props will stay intact.

comment, dm, or ask to be added to the taglist!

requests are open for both enhypen and txt!! ask to your hearts content :3

don’t forget your daily click to help palestine! (it’s completely free and just one click!)

[foxaftershocks]

Hey can you please write where Lars has to take care of y/n after they get an either a tooth extracted or their wisdom teeth taken out.

Please and thank you

I hope you like this one.

“Lars!”

You flung your arms around your favourite person in the whole wide world, not caring that he stiffened, both arms pinned to his sides. You blinked up at him, expectant smile on your face, ignoring the sting you were only vaguely aware of. Right on the outskirt of your perception, something in your mouth pulled, a throbbing that was new and uncomfortable.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, still caught up tight in your embrace.

“Home,” you groaned, “I like home.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to take you there.”

“You’re coming with me?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever felt such joy as having Lars in your home.

“Just like we agreed,” he said.

He disentangled himself from your hold, ignored your pout as he slipped an arm around your waist, guiding you out the door. You were gazing up at him, caught up in the way sunlight seemed to play over his skin and in his hair. Your heart ached from how beautiful he was.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” you asked, feet clumsy as he guided you across the parking lot.

“Well, I, uh, thank you,’ he said, not quite looking at you. You wished he would. He had such pretty blue eyes.

You were leaning into him, enjoying the way the long lines of his body felt against yours. He was holding you up, fumbling for the door of his old car. You loved that car. Inside it smelt of years gone by, like sunlight and dust and electricity. Chasing storms and chasing dreams. You loved it, more than words could ever express.

He deposited you in the front seat, doing his best to avoid your grasping hands. You wanted to pull him closer and tell him exactly how much you loved his car. To whisper in his ear so no one would hear.

He played your hands in your lap, bent over as he settled you, pulling the seatbelt over your chest and securing it in place. You lent forward, kissing his cheek, feeling the stubble threatening to emerge scratch against your lips.

You ached when you smiled up at his wide eyed expression.

He shut the door on you, hurrying around the back of the car to slide into the driver’s seat. you turned in your seat, head resting against the head rest, watching him closely. He moved fluidly, so much more graceful than you. You reached out, hand knocking his as he changed gear on the car. His eyebrow quirked when he looked at you and you were slow to reach up, tracing the length of his eyebrow. He caught your hand, lowering it back into your lap.

You dragged your eyes away from him, watching as a bicycle stopped beside the car at a red traffic light, keeping your pout to yourself. And yet you heard when he chuckled, indignation rushing through you.

“You’re mean,” you said.

“I’m trying to get you home safe and sound,” he replied, not denying it.

You hunkered down in your seat, refusing to look at him, arms crossed over your chest like a petulant child. He kept to his side of the car and you refused to reach out to him. He didn’t deserve your attention if he was going to be so mean to you.

The car came to an abrupt stop, pulling up on the street outside your apartment building. Struggling with the seatbelt, you tried to leave the car without Lars, not needing his help when he was going to be acting so mean to you. He pulled the door open for you anyway, helping you get out of the seatbelt, an arm still wound around your waist.

He was so warm and so comfortable and you could just burrow into him if he let you. He never let you.

“Okay, stairs,” he said looking at them in the entrance hall, “no lift?”

“It’s broken,” you replied, “it’s always broken.”

He sighed but didn’t falter as he made for the stairs with you. You dragged your heels, too tired to consider climbing four flights of stairs. He sighed again, swinging you up into his arms before you could protest. He was so strong. Sometimes you forgot when all you did was sit in a lab and talk about science all day. He should do this more often. You liked how strong he was. Nice strong arms that could hold you easily.

You rested your head against his shoulder. He always smelt so good, like soap and aftershave and something that was only ever around when Lars was. You pressed your face into his neck, listening to him breathe as he climbed.

“Alright, where’s your key, love?” he asked.

He was slow to put you down, your knees unsteady, like they’d turned to jelly. You rummaged in your bag, finding all kinds of things you didn’t need like bobby pins and lipstick and some mints. None of it was your keys. You dug deeper, fingers scrabbling for the cold metal you knew you’d thrown in there when Lars had picked you up earlier.

His hand steadied your as you inserted the key, guiding it into the keyhole. His hand was so warm, skin brushing skin and a steadying force when you felt so weak. Your tiny apartment was the same as always, a bit messy and very lived in and one of your favourite places in the world. You fell onto your couch, secondhand and overstuffed, comfortable beyond comfort.

“Are you hungry?” Lars asked, shutting the door to keep the rest of the world out, “thirsty?”

There was still an ache in your mouth but a more insistent one in your stomach. Your throat felt scratchy and you hadn’t realised how much the thought of food would make you salivate.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding, considering getting up.

“To which one?” he asked.

“Both,” you said.

He left you there, taking the three steps it took to get to your kitchen. You turned, pushing up for your arms to rest along the back of the couch, chin resting on top as you watched him. He knew your home well enough to be able to begin making something. Fruit and milk and yoghurt and a blender.

“You’re not allowed to have food that needs chewing,” he said.

He passed the glass over to you. It was so cold, like a block of ice in your hands, and you brought it closer to your chest. You looked down into the slightly pink drink and felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You’re so nice to me,” you said.

He took a seat beside you, the sofa cushions dipping until you felt your body tip towards him. He caught your glass before the smoothie could tip out onto you. He passed it back to you once you’d stopped moving. Taking a sip from it you hummed, going back for another one.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you said, licking the froth from your top lip.

“It’s not that good,” he said but you could see the way his lips quirked up into a small smile.

‘Seriously. You’re like a genius. A proper genius. How’d you get so smart?” you asked, shuffling even closer, until your thigh was pressed against his.

“Just lucky, I suppose,” he said, “finish your drink.”

You did as you were told, both hands holding onto the glass. You drank deeply, your empty stomach aching with need. It was like you’d been emptied out, a hollow vessel for smoothies. He took the glass from you when it was empty, setting it down on the floor beside his feet.

“Do you want another one?”

You nodded. He paused, looking down at you and you found yourself leaning into him. He was warm, shoulder encased in a soft sweater beneath your cheek. You brushed against it, enjoying the sensation against your skin.

“Come on, love. You have to let me get up if I’m going to make you another one.”

It was with reluctance that you let him get up again. He took your glass and you listened to the blender again. You lay back on the couch, curling up as you waited, trying to be patient. His fingers stroked over your hair as he passed you the glass again. You sat up, bringing it to your lips.

“Do you need anything for the pain?” he asked.

You shook your head, chugging the smoothie. When you put it down, he immediately picked it back up, taking it into the kitchen. Sitting beside you, you curled up against him again, not able to stop yourself when he was right there.

“Can we watch Bridget Jones?” you asked.

“Whatever you want,” he said.

He jostled you for a moment, grabbing the remote for your old tv, getting the movie playing. He reached for the blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over you. You spread it over his lap too, curling against his side. His arm draped around you, warming you up from the inside out.

Somewhere between the tarts and vicar party and the cheating scandal, your eyes slipped closed. He was so warm and comfortable and all the good things in life. It was easy to relax until you were melting into him.

So when you woke up some time in the middle of the night, draped over his chest, slowly rising and falling with each breath, the blanket curled around you, all you did was snuggle closer to your nurse.

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 43. Elliott (Aphrodisiac)

Pairing: Elliott / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,155 Warnings: aphrodisiac, dry humping, love confession Prompt(s): 13 — aphrodisiac Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: name a better duo than me writing elliott and feeling like ive butchered his character lmao. yall elliott girlies always seem to enjoy my writing of him though so i hope its tasty regardless!

How did he get here again?

Heart dead set on confessing to you today, hastily forgotten about earnest poem and meticulously picked flowers discarded to the floor... Somewhere in your house, he can't quite remember where, or when, or how...

Just how did he find himself here again?

Strangely, his lungs burn for you. More so than usual, and that's saying something. Blinking rapidly up at you as you straddle his waist so prettily, it should be illegal honestly. To have him feeling so hot under you, tummy filling with more and more butterflies with every passing second that you remain on top of him— except they're heavy and thick, resting uncomfortably in his belly like a shameful weight. Dripping in desire as you flutter your lashes down at him like that, all innocent and harmless, toying with his suspicions like some sort of temptress; and for once, he's at a loss for words.

He doesn't know what to do with himself, or the position he's found himself in. Acting rather uncouth for someone who likes to pride himself on how refined he can be, his hands rest against your hips with barely contained expectation. He can do naught else but stare up at you with furrowed brows and hooded eyes. Gods, but his vision is so blurry right now, unable to fully concentrate on anything due to the dense fog settling in his mind, travelling past his heart to leave it skipping a beat, wrapping around his lungs to leave him more than a little breathless, and eventually down past his sickly turned tummy and right down to the cock you're currently perched upon.

He'd like to apologise for his behaviour, let you know that he isn't some sort of brute who would consider looking upon you with anything but the utmost of respect, in spite of the way his erection twitches against your back side. And yet here he is, leering at you, uncontrollably tugging and rubbing at your sides, chewing down on his bottom lip to keep his tongue tied in fear of spilling the plentiful amount of dirty words he wants to sigh to match his dirty actions.

You deserve better than this. Even if you're looking upon him with the sweetest encouraging smile, coaxing this crude version of himself out with such ease it's a little embarrassing. Like you wanted this to happen, to see his hair messily splayed out against the sheets and his face to scrunch up with obvious attraction, the feeling of your soft ass rubbing ever so gently against his length causing him to huff and sigh from under you. Rendered a mere slave to his drooling cock, he can barely think straight anymore and— oh, when you place your hands on his chest, using him for stability as you start to grind down on him a little more purposeful, a little harder, he can no longer truly contain his thoughts and words.

"I want to fuck you so badly."

It's dirty, straight to the point no matter how much he might internally cringe at his unrefined word usage— but it's also honest. A sudden rush of lust pooling at his core as you work his lap, cock pulsing from under your shifting weight, shaky breaths escaping his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Red hot embarrassment paints his cheeks; or is that just caused by the internal boiling point he's experiencing right now? Dizzy with so much desire it's almost nauseating to try and sit still, especially when you let out the softest little giggle, a knowing sound that he's yet to learn the answer to.

"Should I take this as your confession, Elliott?" You ask so nonchalantly, so casually that he's a little awe struck to be completely honest. A meek whine crawling up his throat as he slowly nods yes, fingers digging into your waist tighter in response to your blasé attitude, more purposefully now that you've sussed him out. And, he can't quite seem to get all his ducks in a row, leading to his up-front answer. Feeling not like himself as he rests under you like this, merely waiting for an assumed breaking point; holding out until then in fear of otherwise scaring you off— ah, the thought alone fills him with so much dread that he unknowingly squeezes at your waist more desperately. A non verbal plea spread across his fingertips as you shift up and down his cock idly, a lazy stroke that he's left unsatisfied with; but he won't stop you. Don't leave.

He could never even dream of stopping you anyway when you dote on him so perfectly from above, letting his cock slip between your thighs, the cloth barrier providing some nice friction against his dribbling with precum tip; he shouldn't be thinking such nasty thoughts, right? You deserve so much better than that, he thinks. Deserve something...— oh, he can't think properly. Dazed by how nice it feels to have your hips in his grip, his eyes automatically rolling to the back of his head with every pass of your hidden little hole against his cock.

What you deserve doesn't really matter to him right now, not when all he can think about are all the lewd things he wants to do with you, how he yearns to be buried all the way inside of you, to bounce you up and down on his lap until next morning, how he craves for more than anything to have you come apart on his cock and—

"It's okay, Elliott. I feel the same way about you."

And oh, you shouldn't have said that. Or, well, he's happy to hear you say that, but it causes the band in his tummy to finally snap, a flush of lust and hunger to flood his body, senses heightened by your mere presence as his lashes flicker open again to take in the sight of your pretty smile before he hopefully wipes it off your cute little cheeks for tonight. Love it though he may, he wants to have you making that pretty little 'O' face he just knows he can rock out of you instead. Uncharacteristically confident in his abilities as he applies a little more pressure to your hips, aiding your glide up and down on his lap with trembling fingers, shaky sighs escaping him every time your slit slips past his sensitive tip.

But it's unlike anything else he's ever experienced before, literally indescribable. Even this feels too good, a slow, otherwise romantic up and down on his throbbing cock, if not for the way he practically vibrates under you with excitement. Perversion present in how he eye fucks you from below, dragging his vision from your face, imprinting the image of your gently contorting expression as he takes a little more charge of the situation into his mind, travelling his gaze down to your tits and how they gently shake under your shirt, how his throat dries up at the mere sight of them covered like that. And, of course, his vision drops further, right down to between your legs. Catching sight of the way your thighs tremble and shake at his sides, how your arms are stretched out to stabilise yourself on his chest when his help becomes more of a hinderance given how hopeless he becomes for you.

In truth, he doesn't even realise he's doing it until it's too late. Manhandling you into a quicker pace, a snap up and down on his lap to stroke his tip off just the way he likes it. He's far too needy to wait to get his cock out, too lost in how pretty you look on top of him, too far gone in the heavy heat in his mind to pay attention to how unfair he might be acting right now, so uncouth, so he instead takes to rubbing the clothed tip of his cock against your cunt in tandem thrusts. He might be below you, but with the way he's feeling so out of control, lost all restraint to the mere mention of your reciprocated feelings, he's got all of the power, doesn't he?

And the recognition of such imbalance just ruins him. Does him in, so to speak. Strips him of all his gentleman like exterior and renders him utterly useless. Merely acting out of sheer selfish instinct with every buck of his hips against your slit, making sure to hump his cock roughly where he thinks your clit might be; it's difficult to discern not only due to the amount of clothing present, but also because of the unnatural heat coursing through him, an untamed need dictating how hard and fast he fucks up against you, hair a tousled mess beneath him from how eagerly he bucks and writhes in a seeking of more.

An utter mess of a man, completely dishevelled his once proper and appropriate appearance. Shirt all twisted under his wiggling around, dress pants stained sheer from the amount of precum that spills through his boxers— all for you. And the way you so effortlessly ride him out, even if he's putting in most of the work. Your pretty pink cheeks and cute little wobbly thighs; you're too much for him. Great big gasps escaping him at the way you let him use you without complaint, a seed of shame burrowed deep in him encouraging him to continue, to see his degeneracy through— but he's so close already, hyper sensitive for some unknown reason as he dry humps himself to completion.

Which doesn't take much longer, given how hard his chest heaves and how red his cheeks become, huffing and puffing below you with strangled sighs and choked moans, doing his best to listen to every little gasp and groan you let out in response to feeling his cock throb from under you. God, you can probably feel the exact outline from how rock hard he is, right? Thrusting right against your little slit, tip twitching against your clit every time he manoeuvres you down, matching the movement with a fuck upwards and— Oh, he's cumming before he even has a chance to warn you.

His hips don't stop, still yet bucking against your cunt with increasingly sloppy and messy thrusts, spilling a fat load right in his pants like some sort of horny teenager, but God if it doesn't feel good— better than anything before, shooting more seed at the thought of having you ruin him for anything and anyone else from a simple little dry hump; you just feel so perfect against him. Your additional weight squishing down on his cumming cock feels so unfairly nice, his grip on you loosening in favour of letting you milk out the rest of his orgasm for him.

And he's panting even when he's empty, it's almost silly how quickly the fog in his brain lifts and his cheeks are red with embarrassment, not heat. The sticky white inside his underwear causing him to wince a little as you continue to rub around his lap; yet he doesn't stop you. Would never, remember?

"Did you by any chance steal some of the newly grown fruit?" You ask him once his breathing has stabilised a bit, though he still takes a moment to swallow before responding. Avoiding your otherwise gorgeous gaze because he feels the familiarity of guilt creeping down his throat. He didn't make you cum yet, did he? He should probably at least offer that, despite the hesitation at the tip of his tongue.

And like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, a nervous smile tugs on his lips before he responds, body betraying him. He could never hide his true feelings from you even if he tried, huh? "Ah, um... Yes, I— I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have, it's just... They looked so good, and—"

"Hush, it's okay. I think I now know why you couldn't hold back, though."

Oh. Is that so? "...The fruit?"

"Mhm. For the animals. For breeding." You explain, offering him a cheeky wink to have his cock all twitchy again under you, the newfound burn in his lungs once again returning to leave him breathless, but at least understanding.

"Ah." An aphrodisiac, most likely. The moment of clarity soon fading to the back of his mind when you hop off him gently, the sight of you starting to undress prompting him to do much the same. "That'll do it." He muses to himself, struggling with a button on his shirt in the sheer urgency present in his action to undress, cum coated cock begging for freedom when you send him a teasing smirk in return.

"Might as well get some use out of it, right?" You tease, but he finds it easy to agree with you. Maybe acting so vulgar has it's benefits. Namely of which being to see you naked.

[moutheyes]

many thoughts about currently airing QL

i meant to get this done earlier but i blinked and it's almost we are wednesday again. however, i still wanna get some thoughts on page for posterity.

only boo (completed!)

while this show had its imperfections, its triumphs largely outweighed its shortcomings. as a vehicle to showcase seakeen's acting abilities, chemistry, and viability as a cp, you really couldn't have asked for much more. moo is a son of all time, and both he and kang were fully realized characters that were a joy to watch and root for each week.

i think the writing sacrificed some of its side plots to the trope gods—the secondary romance between potae and payos deserved more than endless miscommunication, while shone's reintroduction as an eleventh-hour obstacle was clunky at best. there are also valid criticisms to be made about gmmtv's (in)ability to deliver a substantial in-text critique of the idol industry's stance on dating, and if that had been part of the show's thesis, maybe i'd feel more strongly about it, but it wasn't. it was an obstacle for the relationship between kang and moo, and as a gmmtv romcom, it was never positioned to promise anything more than a happy ending.

was the central storyline strong enough to overcome some of the uneven writing towards the end? to me, yes, absolutely it was. kangmoo was the beating heart of the show, and the script did everything right, up until graduation, to make us buy into not only their individual characterizations and motivations but also the strength of their relationship, the mutual support and adoration and understanding that made their love feel so much fuller. i'm going to miss having seakeen on my screen every sunday and i hope they get the superstar projects they deserve moving forward.

wandee goodday (ep 8 of 12)

this show has kind of entered a mushy middle stage for me. fake dating, as a trope, requires healthy suspension of belief, and the fwb setup is working at odds with that. it's become very evident in the last couple of episodes, where the only way dee and yak can individually keep up their own pretenses (more on dee's side, tbf to yak) is through a deliberate failure of communication, which gets exhausting to watch after a while. i'm glad yak finally confessed his feelings at the end of ep 8; hopefully the show can emerge out of this storytelling slump and end on a strong note.

oye and cher's proposal scene made me emotional, though. it was so sweet and so simple, and although we still don't have too much background on their relationship, it felt very organic to what we know of them, with the imaginary ring and the casual spontaneity of it all.

my stand-in (ep 9 of 12)

i was not expecting this to be my front-runner for show of the year, but it's really hitting on all levels for me: acting (up is always special, and poom has been a revelation), production (cinematography and camerawork are magnificent), and storytelling (smart, elegant adaptation and localization choices for the most part). with 3 episodes left and most of the major secrets revealed, there's plenty of time for groveling, retribution, and tying up loose ends, by which i mean fucking in missionary. no major notes; carry on.

we are (ep 12 of 16)

last week's episode was a bit slow even by this show's own standards, but what i liked about it was getting to see more of phum and fang's home life and how that has shaped their approaches to relationships. a lot of it was implied in the earlier episodes, so seeing it depicted a little more clearly—phum's abandonment issues and current friction with his father, fang's self-imposed perfectionism—introduced some much-needed depth to their characters.

also, unlike dee and yak's infuriating situationship in wandee goodday, i don't mind the undefined limbo that phum and peem have been occupying. this show has shown us that peem struggles with articulating his sense of self, most notably through his art, so it makes sense to me that he would be overly cautious in confirming his own feelings on an intellectual level, despite being able to act on his emotional and physical connection to phum.

i'm a little worried the show isn't leaving enough room to properly develop chainpun as the final couple, but what we haven gotten is delightful. in another universe this is the friends-to-lovers slowburn of my dreams.

knock knock boys (ep 5 of 12)

speaking of delights, this show is so fucking underrated. it has given me everything i wanted from its pilot trailer: the housemate shenanigans and comedic beats are chef's kiss, of course, but there's also a real sense of a camaraderie being built up between the four boys. the acting, also, has been remarkably even; i knew seng and best would bring it, but jaonine and nokia have held their own and really inhabited their roles.

i'm actually really pleased that jane is, in fact, peak's fiancee. the vibes that some of us got from that initial glimpse of their relationship wasn't wrong, though—they treat each other the way siblings do, which is probably indicative of an arrangement between their families. jane is on "i got your location from your dad" terms with peak's father, but she's also on "i'll cover for you and pretend you're not here" terms with peak, even as she's fully committed to invading his space and annoying the snot out of him until he gives in and stops running from his problems. extremely sibling behavior!! there is not a single whiff of romance between the two of them, but they are facing a difficult situation that will need to be resolved before either of them can move on and live their lives.

one thing about this show that i keep thinking about is the significance of thanwa's wardrobe. i clocked in ep 1 that he and his (probable) ex dressed very similarly, and the scene with the two of them in ep 5 just drove that detail home. now that we know thanwa a little better, i wonder if he's the type of person to conform to a lover's aesthetic (consciously or subconsciously). he is a caretaker and a little bit of a pushover, and clothing choice is a way that could manifest. it might not be anything, but i also wouldn't be surprised if we see some of peak's style sneak into thanwa's wardrobe as their romance develops.

there's so much more i could say about this show! the characters are all so fascinating to me, both individually and as a group!!! i'm gonna be late for a movie if i keep typing, though, so i will try to organize further thoughts after this week's episode.

love sea (ep 3 of 10)

as far as mame shows go, this has been unexpectedly enjoyable from the jump. fortpeat are delivering a much different dynamic than their whumpfest from LITA, and if you take out all the smoldering sex scenes, there has been plenty of actual character (and relationship) development through dialogue, which i appreciate. i like that the tension isn't confined to simple class difference; the writing situates mut at the intersection of various regional, economic, and environmental concerns, and that makes him so much more compelling as a foil to tongrak's more conventional slate of bl traumas. i do hope the show continues to maintain those core parts of his characterization as the romance progresses.

[buddiebeginz]

oliver not touching any buck/tommy post wiht a ten foot pole, not interacting with that side of the fanbase consistently reinforcing his love of buddie. and those imbeciles think he likes that ship lol.

I think Oliver doesn't interact with anything B/T or Lou on social media mainly because he knows that ship isn't going to be around long term and he doesn't want fans to feel like he's misleading them. Much the same way he was about Buddie before s7.

I also get the impression that he doesn't care all that much for Lou. Just based on how Oliver (and the rest of the cast) seem to keep their distance from Lou in the behind the scenes stuff we saw for s7. How Oliver seemed with Lou during that one painfully awkward interview they did together. And Lou's weird behavior online.

Oliver has always seemed like a trustworthy kind of person who just wants to do right by people but who also won't accept bs from others either. I can't for one minute believe he would be okay with Lou charging 911 fans $200 a video for his headcanons. Not to mention all the other stuff like Lou's racist and misogynistic insta posts, him minimizing T*mmy's past behavior to teasing, and the strange screenshot about spitting on blind kids. Oliver has to have seen some of that plus if Lou acts that way online lord knows what he's like to work with on set. So it doesn't surprise me that Oliver has distanced himself from Lou.

It just makes me sad though because Oliver deserved so much better for such an important storyline like this. I also worry about how much B*mmy stans are going to turn on him when B/T inevitably ends, I'm sure they'll blame him to some extent and say he didn't do enough to support the ship. Which everything with Lou aside he's under no obligation to support any of the ships he's been a part of and he never really has besides Buddie. Oliver has always been rooting for Buddie probably more than all of us so I don't know why the B*mmy shippers are surprised now that he's not rooting for their ship. He wants to see Buck end up with Eddie.

[blacclotusss]

I Could Not Prevent It

Claudia

Ah...the death of the vampiress Claudia...the day I have been dreading since...season one if I'm being quite honest with you. Before all of the murder plotting in episodes six and seven, before things went downhill halfway through episode 4, and before she even appeared on screen for the first time. My Claudia...my babygirl. When I learned about this show, I looked up all the characters and what happens to them, and it made me nervous that she was a child and would die in such a painful way. But, when I saw that she was aged up and would be Black, as her Daddy Lou would be as well, I was immediately protective of her and wanted nothing but the best. There was this delusional thought I had that maybe they would change the course of her fate and she'd be able to live as she deserves, but at every corner she turned, there was something else lurking and waiting to capture her; from her being turned, to Charlie, to Lestat and his nonsense, to Bruce, and all the way up to Armand and the Coven. Even before she was brought into Louis and Lestat's lives, the life she lived was one no person, let alone child, should ever have to go through. And then, she comes into this situation where the both of these men are turning her against her will for their own selfish reasons. I've always felt that way: Louis wanted something to fix after blaming himself for the riots and Lestat didn't want to lose Louis. Period. But, Claudia made the best out of her situation and was brilliant and defiant, doing her own thing despite what many told her she should do or act like. All the way up until her last moments in the flesh on Earth, she never backed down. And I absolutely love her for that, always will love her. She is such an amazingly written character in this show and I hope to see Delainey in so much more after this! 

The Trial

If this makes me seem biased, so be it, but none of what happened during that trial that came out of Lestat's mouth moved me. He knew exactly what he came there to do, but wants to get caught up in the moment and emotions when retelling the story. Goodbye! And for him to sit there a try to reveal "the truth" about what happened also did nothing for me. Lestat still had a part in everything that happened, EVERYTHING. That changes nothing! The retelling of the story was shit and so was that so-called apology because how can you apologize to him and not her? You put that girl through so much, verbally and physically abusing her. Asked if she would be a lap dog, let your mistress call her a dog, put your hands on her more than once, and threw her assault up in her face when she was trying to escape. Where is her apology? And had the audacity to look like that as she died. Save the tears and as Louis said "Fuck you!" Y'all can let that move you and have you kissing his feet if you want, but it changes nothing. He's still a piece of scum watched her die as she looked to him for help (Delainey's words) with tears like you didn't come here to watch her die. 

And this whole trial had such a racist undertone to it, from the descriptions to the depictions on screen. It just gave me "Hey look at the Black people provoking this white man to make him do these things." Literally everything, down to the cutting of the Achilles tendons, the way they treated Madeleine versus Louis and Claudia, etc. Just a tragedy all around. 

The final goodbye between Louis and Claudia...my God. It's the way that they didn't have a great greeting (that turning moment was not pretty, either version) and they only had a small moment of happiness between them before they were pulled apart. I already knew Louis was lying when he said in the previous episode that he did not feel anything when she left, but seeing them grab for each other (as well as his demeanor when speaking about her in Dubai) told me they loved each other; they've always loved each other. Yes, they butt heads, but you could always feel the love between them and I hate that they didn't get a proper departure. Lastly, my favorite moments in this episode were between Claudia and Madeleine. Madeleine being so out of it, to the point of not even understanding what was going on until the end, and still choosing to be with Claudia. Oh the waterworks! I'm so glad Claudia had someone that was all in with and for her before her demise. She, and the audience at home, was finally able to see and know what a Gothic romance is. This is immortal and eternal love between those that care and understand one another. I absolutely bawled when the both of them met the Sun and I don't think we'll ever see something so pure like that in this genre. I'll miss them both. And Louis...blow that theatre to pieces! 

Armand

Now you sir...what the hell are we going to do with you? I just...the man barely said anything this episode and he still managed to get under my skin. How strong are these vampires that you, the oldest one in the bunch and most powerful, cannot move nor prevent this from happening? Or did he really want her gone like I suspected he did last week? My money is definitely on the latter because he would have Louis all to himself and that seems like the goal with these men Louis cuddles up to. And he said Sam was guarding the gate, and no offense to Sam, but I'm sure Armand would be able to take him. But, what really got me was Sam was also seen helping put Louis in the coffin down stairs so what's the truth Armand? I guess we'll have to wait until next week. But, I did want to circle back to the racism, but in the fandom and not the show because I'm noticing the same pattern between everyone's reactions to the show. Y'all are on Armand's neck (warranted) for his role in this whole thing, but let the white man waltz on stage and let those tears fall and y'all are falling for it. I saw a video from a creator today, along with other tweets, calling Louis a master manipulator and how they'd known how evil he had been all this time. What? There's no way we're all watching the same show, not when you've come to that conclusion. There is zero consideration for Louis' feelings and thoughts at all. Y'all let your attraction to white cock cloud your judgement every time and it's sick to see. I hope you have no friends or family that have gone through anything like that because I'd steer very clear from you all.  

Season One Revisits

As I expected before the trailers dropped, there were two season one revisits in this episode. However, I don't feel as strongly about them as I thought I would and maybe it's because I overly analyzed those scenes before this. To me, the Claudia turning scene showed Louis' desperation for something to make him feel better after blaming himself for the riots. Him begging and pleading on his knees simply fueled just how broken he was. The most chilling part, however, was him dragging her like a child running around the house with a doll in tow. It's as if Claudia was his property, and you can even see that with him wanting her turned in the first place. With the episode five revisit, it didn't  change anything for me at all. I took it as Louis simply defending his child as was shown in season one and Lestat losing his temper and going overboard. He still had the upper hand and he knew it, he admitted it himself. It just feels like they brought it back up for no reason...why are we having Louis retell this again? He's already said what it was and how he felt. There was no reason for him to relive these memories once again in such a short span of time. I get it was for the plot, but at what cost? How many times do we need to hear the abused recount their abuse? 

[missfreija]

You have to love the hypocrisy of the show acting as though being a pimp is so much better than being a slave owner; like it isn't still human trafficking, and as though in that time and place, black women wouldn't have suffered the most from it. It's a seriously disgusting thing to pretend that it's this cutesy, morally fine thing to do: if they're fine with Louis being a sex trader, than they should have been fine with portraying the actual story of the books - he's meant to be a passively bad person. The story is about evil deserving empathy. It would be different if they used the fact that he's a pimp to explore the fact that he's always profited off of human lives and was passively evil in life, that would have been different (though that's exactly what the books do, so it still would have worked with the original story and then the show might have been good), but it was used as a way to make Louis a morally fine uwu baby. I fucking hate it. It's disgusting for the show runners to pretend sex trading is okay and doesn't harm people, it's dishonest to pretend the show is a discussion about the legacy of race in America without actually discussing the way in which black women suffered as a result of misogynoir and how they were sexualised and their sexual exploitation was ignored (but we all know how the show feels about black women given what they did to Claudia), and it's ridiculous to pretend that it's a gothic story when it veers away from the moral complexities inherent to the gothic genre. It's a poorly written, malicious, badly developed show with subpar actors, and I hate how popular it's become. It feel as though it's defiling the legacy of the books. And apparently Marius is a pimp now too. I hate even engaging with it, but I had to vent. I hope it gets cancelled as soon as possible and the fan base dies down, in the meantime, I'll try to enjoy the books and the circle of book fabs that remain here. Of which your blog is a wonderful example. Love to you, hate to AMC.

I absolutely agree with every single word lol. As a woman and as a iwtv fan i am disgusted by the treatment of women in this show, but apparently the show writers and the majority of audience don't care about women representation, neither black nor white. Also the fact that they portrayed the sex workers (in the few scenes where they appear) as 'relaxed' women that seem to have a friendly attitude towards Louis (who in this show possesses a strong ambition for business) is weird and gives to the viewer a distorted view of reality. The narrative focused a lot on the issue of racism, so why not showing briefly the suffering of black prostitutes? Because the male gaze doesn't want to recognize it? I don't know. And don't get me started on the other female characters.

What happened to Claudia was completely avoidable and unnecessary and still rj opted for this version and said that the r4pe was 'a horrible thing that happened to her, but it has toughened her up'. I guess it is a self-explanatory sentence. I can't even imagine how SA victims felt while hearing him say it. It completely downplays the trauma of SA and implies that women get something positive out of it. I felt that episode and the scene in one of the first episodes where Louis burns the tapes of the '70 interview (the book….) were disgustingly disrespectful towards Anne Rice and her fans.

Last year I got into a heated argument with some show fans on twitter because they kept reiterating that 'at least prostitution gives more freedom to women/people than slavery', 'louis is a good pimp, he treats his girls with respect', 'he defends the prostitutes from cruel men' , 'at least he didn't enslave my ancestors unlike book louis', it was annoying and i was astonished of reading all their statements, very misogynistic.

Regarding pimp Louis: not only this is a way to avoid probing into the character's psyche/moral (and not include one of the most important themes of the novel), but it is a way of de responsabilize (and deny) the past. Louis is a man of his time and, with an accurate work of writing, it would have made sense to contestualize his privileged position and explain what it meant for him to be in charge of a plantation, it would have been interesting to show what it meant to be a landowner and slave owner at the time and the consequences of his actions reflected on his slaves, maybe introducing some of them into the narrative in a more concrete way (or do the same with the pimp/brothel storyline in the show, because it's equally evil), since it is a topic basically not explored in the book. But the showrunner decided that nowadays one should not represent these issues on tv and you have to disregard the past. It is extremely hypocritical.

And it's awful that for this reason they chose another historical setting, changing century and not addressing the fact that there were just as many issues in 1910/20 as well; apparently for the writers the XX century was a historical period with minor social problems where no difficulties existed (aside from racism, it was pretty much the most prominent theme in s1). And I doubt that the reconstruction of the New Orleans society of the time is faithful lol (and where is the voodoo?). All this imo denotes great laziness in the writing.

And clearly this series does not belong to the gothic genre, it's more a teen drama. Beyond the surface level thrills, the gothic literature holds a profound mirror to the complexities of human psychology that here are totally absent. I also doubt that the show writers did extensive research on the figure of the vampire in literature.

We were all eagerly waiting for the cancellation of this garbage that is NOT iwtv/tvc and the immediate disappearance of the show fandom ahahah but unfortunately it has been renewed for s3 😔

Thank you for the compliments mwah! hugs!

[cepheusgalaxy]

I hate elaborating myself

I hate having to explain my feelings;

Why I'm feeling them;

Then why they're valid;

Then why Person should care about that;

Then why I don't deserve to have them disrespected and disconsiderated!

I hate that I always have to do that

And that I suck at articulating myself, so I can't tell any of these things from above and end up upset and angry and stressed and--

UGHHHHHHHHHH

[t8oo]

there is some symbolism iv never considered in that one episod of pt5 where zenigata rescues fujiko before she kills lupin

[b4ll4d33r-06]

rough around the edges, feeling the stony rough exterior you know has been smoothed down. you feel like thats how it used to be. soft, and smooth to the touch. but now its been smoothed over. as if abrasions happened to the rock. enoughto make it sharp around the edges, where one hurts others if they are pricked by the roughness. thats why in some places its smoothed over a bit more.

yes im talling ab diluc plwase leave me alone.

[mirabel-on-a-bicycle]

Charles died trying to protect a Pakistani boy from a hate crime. Charles, a half Indian person, died- like fuck I'm so emotional about this.

"I mean I'm half Indian, why am I so different?"

Listen. Given the history of the IndoPak conflict, we aren't talking about the subtle implications of this line enough. Not only did Charles look at this kid and see himself in him, he tackled the xenophobia at face value—no strings attached, no connotations, history be damned. And what undoes me even more is that he believed that boy was no different from him and therefore did not deserve to be treated that way. He never once showed any regret for doing what he did. And that is so so telling of Charles, in a much deeper sense than we might realise at first.

Charles was always a protector through and through. He died for it. And even after, no matter who it was, he never stopped being a protector. But in that moment specifically, that act of immigrant solidarity?? It was like... an entire lifetime of history classes and unending geopolitical strife and debates about who deserves to live and who doesn't just flashed before my eyes when Charles took one look at him and went "Oh fuck no. I'm no different. We're in this together and I'm not leaving you alone". I cannot stress enough how much that healed me :')))