#diving head first into this ship

[arayofliteralsunshine]

I am now convinced Brennan Lee Mulligan is a samxevan shipper. He licked her blood? He wants to be her dog?? Her good boy?!?? He knows exactly what he's doing with those shoulder pats.

[kellyscowboy]

this helped thank u

ALRIGHT i need ya to give me some headcanons on ikeshot & their dynamic so i can get a little bit of knowledge before the prompt (i don't want to completely butcher this ship lmao)

PLEASE HELP IM DYING BECAUSE IM IN THE SAME BOAT BUT UNDERSTAND IT A LITTLE

(lmao im so sorry, ive failed us all)

from what ive seen, I think its kinda like Hotshot is tough guy right and Ike comes along is like *heart eyes* ya know and both have gay panic

so its kinda like sprace but not....lowkey

I know @crystallizedtwilight had some great art of them (specifically the one where Hotshot tries to seduce the wrong twin) but I think there old art got eaten because ive yet to find the ikeshot art

I also imagine a lot of Ike running over to Brooklyn to Hotshot, either with Race or not

Also Hotshot getting a shovel talk from Mike because mans is with his brother, ya know emotions, spot also doing the same

also also Ike having a very different outlook on life because hes Manhattan and Hotshot is a Brooklyn

[endlessnightlock]

Smut prompt 41, please! ❤️

"(if you like it) we can go all night..."

Probably a T/borderline M for suggestiveness (and making out)

In-Panem A/U.

Katniss stumbled over the tree root that had made the mistake of bursting from the dirt in the middle of the path leading from town to the Seam. She wobbled on her feet, but strong arms caught her and held her against his chest before she fell ass-first on the ground.

"Careful," Peeta Mellark told her, and for some reason, his admonition was simply hilarious. She let herself tumble against his chest, giggling.

He sighed under his breath and muttered something about preferring she was sober for this, and that just set her to laughing all over again. The whole night was too absurd to be believed.

There was no reason for her to be so clumsy, even in the dark. She used this path almost daily. Katniss was light on her feet, graceful. But tonight, she'd attended her first town dance, Twelve's unofficial entry to adulthood and freedom from the Reaping. And now? She was drunk.

She'd never been drunk before, and she hadn't meant to be tonight. How was she to know the punch was laced with white liquor? Yeah, she’d noticed the way it burned down her stomach and had an inkling, but when it settled warm and pleasant in her belly she decided not to think about it too hard. She felt looser and lighter and, for the first time in her life, let herself chase that feeling. Unfortunately, too much left her too loose and too light to get home on her own.

Thank goodness she'd run into Peeta Mellark near the rec hall doors. Literally.

She giggled, smothering a snort in her open palm.

"How are you doing, drunkie?" Peeta asked when she didn't move, sounding amused.

"Great. Good. Wonderful." She never talked this much. Why didn't she talk this much? It was so nice talking to him. "Just a little wobbly on my feet. Thanks for holding onto me. Do you know something? You're too good. And nice. And you smell so good." She had the urge to laugh again but thought maybe she was doing too much of that. "I like talking to you."

"Good to know," he said. "I was just wondering if I needed to carry you home."

"No, no. I can walk," she said. Maybe she was lying, though, because she didn't move.

"Are you sure?" He prodded. “Because we’re not moving.”

"Yes! Maybe. I mean, I can walk." She shrugged. "But I kind of like your arms around me. I could do this all night."

She really didn't know why she did it. Maybe because he was so solid and warm, and it was the boy who'd spent seven years staring at her in school but never talked to her until offering to get her home tonight. The only one who’d helped her when she needed help. He’d never asked her for anything. And there was something so baffling but attractive about his kindness. She was realizing how much she liked this sort of warmth, the kind that made her heart feel safe, so she tipped her chin up and kissed him under his jaw.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Her lips lingered against his skin; she felt his pulse pick up. She liked that, liked knowing she could get a reaction out of him. "Katniss. Don't kiss me like that because you're drunk."

She didn't stand on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his because she was drunk. She did it because she liked him a lot and finally had the courage.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," he said.

But his actions were in contrast to his words. His arms tightened around her waist, and he pulled her snugly against his body. His muscles were taut, but she sensed he liked what they were doing. Liked her attention, the way she ran her fingers through his hair, how she pressed her breasts against his chest daringly.

"So don't," she said, cocking her eyebrow in challenge.

Her nerves buzzed and tingled, the sensation rolling through her limbs and stomach and between her legs when he groaned, slanting his mouth over hers.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked as she climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her added weight didn't affect him in the least; he made a cradle with his arms under her hips and ass to support her against his chest. He was firm, muscled everywhere, and something hard pressed against the inside of her thigh, making her body ache.

"Told you I could get around just fine," she said, laughing under her breath before locking her arms around his neck and kissing him again. His lips were soft. Hot.

"We're going to get caught," he breathed, forehead pressed against hers, his warm breath fanning her face. "Someone could walk by any moment. We should stop."

"I don't want to," she said. "If you like it, we could go all night."

He laughed harshly. "Do you even know how that sounds? Don't tell me that. It gives me ideas."

"Maybe I'm getting ideas too."

He pulled away, studying her thoughtfully. Then, with one last soft press of his lips to hers, he sat her on the ground and stepped back a little. It left her confused and hurt. "Don't you want..."

"You have no idea. The effect you have on me. It's just," his eyes were pleading with her in a way she didn't understand. He reached for her hands, rubbing his slightly calloused thumbs against her palm. The action mollified her a little.

He blew out his breath like he was stealing himself for a negative response. "Katniss. I really like you."

"Why did you stop?" she asked, hating the whine in her voice.

"If I hadn't, we would have done something you'd regret later. Or if not you, then me. Don't get me wrong. There's so much I want to do with you. But you've been drinking, and I want to know this," he squeezed her hand, "means something. That's all."

She thought about arguing with him. But she didn't. Instead, she sighed in resignation. Because as much fun as doing something impulsive and crazy with him tonight would be, he was probably right. "You're not to go back to not talking to me, right?"

He smiled. "No. Absolutely not. I've waited a long time for all-night things with you. I want to stay up all night and watch the stars. Talk to you all night. Kiss you all night. As for the rest," he looked at her, raking his eyes up and down her body, obviously struggling against his baser instincts.

She couldn't help laughing nervously at the hungry look in his eyes, remembering how his hardness felt pressed against her, his heated kisses.

"Don't laugh at me! You started this."

"I'm not laughing," she insisted, grinning despite herself.

They walked the rest of the way to her house in contented silence, holding hands. He kissed her goodnight on the front step, promising to come to see her again as soon as he could. And that was pretty good, too.

[emblazons]

Not me pointing out a theme (or leitmotif, if you insist on technical terms) in familial / platonic bonds between ST characters the same way score similarities are described in every fandom I've ever been in...only to have someone say the thematic parallels showing mlvn isn't truly romantic are "just a coincidence?" ☠️

I know this is a lot of people's first deep dive fandom but...lmao I'm not pointing out anything new, special, or stranger things specific ☠️ Shit like this has happened with love stories / downfalls in everything, from the way John Williams built thematic structure from The Imperial March into Across The Stars (Love Theme From Star Wars) to hint Anakin's eventual turn to the way Ramin Djawadi put bits of the the Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen themes through out GoT S7 soundtrack into the lead up to "Truth," so as to to hint not only at their romance, but Jon being a Targaryen too.

I just...you can stay mad that the music is telling you something you don't want to hear, but...don't act like I'm reading too much into something that's happened in every show and movie series you've ever seen. There isn't a single radical notion being presented; you're just too attached to your ship to accept the duffers aren't lmfao

[singsweetmelodies]

can you imagine a piarles collection of fics based on Taylor swift song? like, each album is a collection and each fic is based on a song of that album???

like, when we have London boy but adapted so it would be ‘you know I love a Monaco boy’ because this one would be Pierre saying ‘I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent’ just because it fits though I do think most of everything would be just Charles’ pov because he’s a dramatic bitch just like Taylor

one telling a summer fling they had but one of them fell and screaming at the other “I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

one telling the story of how they met and some stories in the middle until the “now” where Charles says “I like shinny things but I’d marry you in paper rings” and Pierre goes and buys him a ring shaped as a piece of newspaper and propose with it

THE ONE TELLING ABOUT ALL TOO WELL 10 MINUTES VERSION WOULD BE LIKE KNIVES IN MY HEART though definitely not the saddest, that would be tolerate it

and one where Pierre goes on about how they broke up because of *something* and then on a random day they meet again and Pierre tells him “if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” (they do not get back together though)

and when they have a *bad* break up and Pierre is talking shit (for the hell of it) with the press and Charles goes “I keep my side of the street clean but you wouldn’t know what I mean”

I am rambling so much but god I love this idea so much and like

I’m NOT here to kindly ask you to do it (REALLY, that would be waaaaaay too much), I was just procrastinating and I thought about it and I had to share this with someone so thank you for listening to my Ted talk 🫧

AHHHHH, sorry, i completely missed this one last night 🙈🙈 bloody tumblr... but oh my god, i absolutely love this idea! the amount of times i listen to a taylor swift song and just think "whoa my god... piarles au" is insane really. INSANE. so i absolutely adore you for this concept

and!! your SONG EXAMPLES omg 🥺🥺 i absolutely melted because yes yes yes London Boy is such a them song. i am particularly soft for this song + piarles, because i wrote a fic with a London Boy lyric for a title for them a little while ago. it's my Monaco vlog fic, and this one is very close to my heart for many reasons, but most especially because it always reminds me of my wonderful @leclerctops, @welightitup and @redyellowstupid, and the very START of our birthday fic surprise tradition 🥺🥺❤️💙💚 bless, the best memories, and all the love, really.

but enough sentimental nonsense! you know, i actually hadn't considered the "Monaco boy" dimples spin on it, but oh my god you are actually a genius. Pierre "I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent" Gasly - LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!!

oh my god, and Cruel Summer - okay, so, this is actually an idea i wrote down in my personal discord server for fic ideas (lmao). i was listening to this song and my brain just went EXACTLY what yours did here: "piarles summer fling but they're idiots and they forgot to communicate." still obsessed with this concept ngl. (unfortunately it's not one i have any sort of time to write, but, oh well. it will live in my head like an unfinished melody 🙏)

AND PAPER RINGS!! your idea of pierre getting him an actual paper ring!! that is the cutest thing i've ever heard omg 🥺🥺 and he so WOULD!! these idiots in love... i adore them ❤️❤️

whoa my god, and all too well. ALL TOO WELL!! ngl that's always been more of a brocedes song for me, but that's just because i can't bear the thought of hurting my piarles babies like that 🙈🙈🥺 but if a piarles ATW fic was ever written... you are unquestionably right. that would be a knife to the heart.

and?? TOLERATE IT?? excuse me?? that would be the one to absolutely shatter us all, i agree. "i know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it" EXCUSE ME?? no?? i could never do that to my beloveds. just. never 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺💔

(though, thinking about it... isn't "tolerate it" good for a sort of heartbreaking charles + ferrari character study? the true otp if you will... the beautiful agony of being a ferrari driver... AHHHH)

and. the 1?? THE 1 FOR PIARLES?? IF MY WISHES CAME TRUE IT WOULD'VE BEEN YOU?? you're right, that one couldn't have a happy ending, but... 😭😭💔💔💔 i could also never do that to them. MY POOR BABIES

hehehehe ngl the karma one made me CACKLE 🤭🤭 pierre ABSOLUTELY is the kind of petty bitch who would talk shit for the hell of it. just look at pierresteban, after all! and for piarles to have a bad breakup... HEARTBREAKING. but omg it would make for such a good character study! love this 👌

ahhhh omg, sorry, i got a bit carried away with this answer 🙈🙈 but come on. TAYLOR SWIFT + PIARLES?? two of my favourite favourite things?? it was never going to be any other way, come on. (in other words, ilysm for this, and thanks a load for sharing your FAB Ted talk/concept with me ❤️❤️ <333)

[galaxythixf]

VALENTINE APPLICATION ( For TetsuTetsu )

A  VALENTINE’S  APPLICATION. 

your  name: Jirou

your age: 16

your perfect date: “Um.. well I don’t really have one. Not that I can think of anyways. Maybe somewhere like a concert or festivals? Those can be a lot of fun! Even more so with some nice company to come with.”

make out in private or in public?: “Uhh… is it okay if I don’t answer this?”

do you like to cuddle?: “I’ll answer this one, as opposed to the other question. I don’t mind cuddling, especially if we get to watch a movie or listen to some music too. If that’s okay?”

tell me something about you: “I know we haven’t talked in a little while, but I do want to let you know i’ve been working on my can crushing! I can crush up to two cans at a time now with one earjack. Proud of me, Jaws?”

why do you want to be my valentine?: “Well I can’t think of anyone else I would want to ask. Nor would I want to ask anyone else anyway. Last year was such a good Valentine’s day simply because you were such a nice valentine to have. Mind being mine again this year?”

@valorheroics​

The sparkle that shines in green eyes can only be described as expected when he lights up seeing the name listed immediately and a grin full of lethal joy is all that's appropriate for a response, from ear to ear he can hardly help himself. "JIROU!!" Her name comes first before any of his thoughts on the context, a celebration on its own that its even written for him. "WE'RE HITTIN' EVERY CONCERT AND FESTIVAL WE CAN, IT'S A PROMISE!" Volume is lost to him for a moment while he browses through every question. "C-Cuddling?! Yeah! Yeah! We can cuddle! Throw on some tunes and we'll cuddle all night!" Nerves betray him when the thought settles in his mind, losing control of the confidence he usually wielded so well, adorned with hues of red on pale cheeks.

"I'm always proud of ya, Sharkbait! There's nothin' better than hearing how much you're workin' on because it pushes me to do better, that way I have way more to show you! Get on my back and I bet I could do my whole workout with you included!!" Boldly he balls a fist to emphasize his point, grin finally growing wider yet again when she asks the obvious. "I'LL BE YOUR VALENTINE EVERY YEAR! YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO ASK!"

[reiderwriter]

hey, i really love your writing esp fluff hehe..

I was wondering if you could maybe write a story where gf!reader has anxiety and decides to spend night at spence's but constantly keeps apologizing cause she is like afraid to be inconvenience but he keeps hugging and comforting her just some really fluffy story

Love yaaaa🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶💕💕

-🍓

A/N: FINALLY getting back to some classic requests! Thanks for this cute one 🥰 I love fluff where Spencer is so caring and considerate, so I hope you like this one, too!

Summary: After a traumatic experience, you avoid confronting new fears with your new coworkers until a late invitation lets you find comfort in Spencer's arms.

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, guns, other cases details etc.

If any other member of your team had so bluntly asked you the question ‘are you okay?’ you'd have lied to their face, convincingly, and not felt bad about it for even a second. 

It had been, after all, long enough since your kidnapping to have become comfortable with new surroundings again. You went on cases fine. You dealt with similar unsubs perfectly, and you were absolutely a professional. 

But with Spencer Reid in front of you asking you that same question, you felt like you were one slight breeze away from crumbling entirely. 

The night had grown old as you sat with Spencer looking over some case files. You weren't shipping out for this one, thankfully, but you still wanted to be sure you knew every detail of the case so you could help find your guy and get him off the streets. 

But having worked from 6 pm to 2am, your eyes were growing bleary, and you had to finally look up to the clock to see how long you'd been zoned out for. 

“Shit,” you murmured, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

“I have to go, Spence,” you scrambled for your keys, pulling your bag onto your shoulder as your heart started beating. 

It was okay. You'd be okay. It was dark outside, but you'd driven in the dark before now. The roads were clear anyway, and you weren't on a job. You could drive home, get some sleep, and forget anything happened. 

“Y/N, it's late, you’re tired,” Spencer said gently from opposite you, grabbing your bag from your hands and gently placing it down again. “It's okay, you can just… stay over tonight.” 

In the few weeks since you'd been kidnapped, you'd told everyone you knew that you were okay and doing fine and that it would take a lot more than that to get you down. And then you'd go home to an empty apartment, triple check every lock, barricade yourself into your room, and sleep with a gun on your bedside table and a knife under your pillow. 

You didn't drive in the dark. You didn't eat or drink anything you hadn't personally prepared, and you didn't dive head first into cases anymore. A few people had remarked about how you'd matured as an agent. They didn't understand that bile rose up in your throat every time you thought about being alone in a room with men. 

Being alone with Spencer was different. He was your Spencer. You'd seen him kill unsubs, but you'd more often see him peacefully trap and release spiders instead of killing them. You'd seen him fumble talking to women by pulling out magic tricks, just as often as you'd seen him be approached by every single working girl you'd interviewed on a case. 

You'd slept over before. This wasn't any different. 

“Yeah… yeah  you're right. It's probably not a good idea to drive this late.” 

He smiled at you as you abandoned your path to the door, and went to grab you some clothes to change into. You paused, and tried to breathe deeply as you assessed the situation. 

You'd been to Spencer's apartment before. If you slept in the living room, your best route out would be the front door. The kitchen didn't have any good exits. The bathroom window didn't open wide enough. The fire escape was connected to both the living room and the window in Spencer's bedroom. If anyone came through the front door, it would be safer to sleep in the bed and jump out the window before they had a chance to pursue you. 

But if they came up the fire escape, they could choose between which window to come through. Without a second thought, you crossed to Spencer's window and checked the locks. They worked, but they were old. They could easily be forced open. 

You checked, and you still had your gun on you, thinking about where the best place to store it would be. Next to the bed, under the sofa, somewhere it'd be easy to grab and shoot. 

You worked yourself up walking yourself through your plan that when Spencer came up behind you again, without thinking, you turned the gun on him.  

“Whoa, Y/N!” 

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I don't - I was just thinking about what I would do in a h-home invasion, and it seemed safer to have the gun close, but-” 

Slowly taking the gun from your hand, Spencer pulled you towards him and into his arms. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, and though it was the 100th time you'd heard the question in the last few weeks, you finally, finally broke down and told him the truth. 

“N-No.” 

Stroking your hair, Spencer held you as you began to quietly sob, not pulling away as you clung to him for dear life, letting the fear slowly drain from your body. 

“It's okay. It's going to be okay, I'm here,” he whispered. After a few minutes, you gathered yourself and pulled away, wiping your eyes as you looked up at him again. 

“I'm sorry, I must just be really tired. I'll just crash on the couch-” 

“No, Y/N, you can't do that.”

“It's fine, I'm fine now. I've crashed on your couch before, and-” 

“And the couch is next to the door. You're going to sit there all night with your gun in your hand, waiting for the door handle to turn. You won't rest.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, but he grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom again. 

“I know what it's like, not being able to sleep at night. Feeling anxious and alone and scared all the time.” 

He handed you a pile of clothes and let you sit on the bed as he began to untie your shoelaces. 

“Sleep in the bed. The window has a secure lock, and it's covered by the alarm system. The bedroom door locks as well." Finishing, he looked up at you from the floor, smiling weakly before standing up and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Your heart, which had been resting comfortably with the new details of your security, flared up into a fast-paced drum beat again as he left for the bathroom. You weren't sure if you were scared still, or if somehow a small kiss and care he'd shown you were enough to have you flushed like a middle-schooler. 

You quickly slipped on the pajamas, which you recognised as old FBI training clothes, and hopped into the bed before your brain could decide to investigate any further. 

Spencer returned quickly and climbed into bed right beside you, turning off the lights beforehand. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking at him as you laid on your side. 

“What for?” 

“For not making this awkward.” 

“Awkward? Is it weird for us to share the bed? Should I have taken the couch? I should have taken the couch, let me go-” 

You leant over the small space between you and wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you for not letting me spiral. Thank you for letting me be not okay.” 

He relaxed into your touch as you spoke and pulled you into him for a hug quickly. His hands rested awkwardly still on your shoulders and waist, as if he were scared to touch you more, to seem inappropriate somehow. 

“Spencer?” 

“Hmm?”

“I think I'd feel safer if you just held me a bit tighter.”

With your head on his chest, you heard the short rumble of laughter that popped out of him as he relaxed into your hug, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the sound of his heart beating. 

[winxanity-ii]

HANDSY

ship: gamer boyfriend!gojo x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering) word count: 3.3k A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, had beautiful hands—it was one of those subtle things you hadn't really noticed at first.

It wasn't until that one day, when you were out on a date, and Satoru had wiped a smudge of food from the corner of your lips, that something clicked.

The way his fingers brushed so effortlessly against your skin left you thinking about them long after.

Since then, you’d found yourself noticing more about his hands. The way they moved, their length—long, slender fingers with perfectly trimmed nails, always clean, the nail beds smooth.

His hands were... well, elegant.

They were the kind of hands that could ruin you.

This particular evening, the two of you were lounging in the living room. Satoru had his headset on, completely engrossed in some multiplayer game, while you were curled up at the other end of the couch, legs casually stretched across his lap.

You were working on some homework, your laptop beside you as every now and then, he'd hiss in frustration or shout some command into the mic, his voice sharp with focus.

Hours passed like this, with you finishing up your assignments. Satisfied, you wiggled your foot gently against Satoru's stomach to get his attention.

He looked over, blue eyes meeting yours as you mouthed, "I'm finished."

He gave you a quick nod, leaning over to cover his mic. "Give me a few more minutes," he whispered before diving back into his game.

Left with time to kill, you opened up a tab on your laptop and started reading... well, something a little more indulgent.

The smutty story had you wrapped up, but every now and then, you'd catch a glimpse of Satoru out of the corner of your eye. His curses and shouts grew louder as he scooted forward, completely focused, your feet trapped against his stomach as he leaned into the game.

That's when you found yourself staring at his hands again.

His fingers moved quickly over the controller, and without realizing it, that familiar warmth began to bubble in your stomach.

The fic had stirred something in you, but it was the sight of his hands, the way they gripped the controller, that sent your mind spiraling.

Thousands upon thousands of scenarios flashed through your head, ones you had no business thinking about while Satoru was so locked into his game.

You'd never thought of yourself as someone with a thing for hands... but here you were.

His fingers hovered over the game controller, each movement precise, quick. The way his thumbs grazed the buttons, the light tap of his fingers as they adjusted with every motion—it had your attention now.

His hands were large, the veins prominent as they flexed, each motion sending a ripple up his forearms.

They were graceful but strong, almost too perfect, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from them, not when he clicked through the game commands with that same fluidity.

Your mind wandered, drifting from the soft glow of the screen to something much more heated.

he way his fingers wrapped around the controller made your thoughts spiral into places they probably shouldn't have gone, at least not right now.

Images flickered in your mind, thoughts about what else those hands could do, how they might feel on you in... different ways.

Suddenly, a hand waved in front of your face, snapping you out of the fantasy. "Huh?" You blinked, looking up to find Satoru grinning at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've been calling your name for the past minute."

You hadn't even noticed, lost so deep in your own thoughts that you missed the world around you.

His right hand dropped from the controller, settling on your thigh as he gave it a gentle squeeze, emphasizing the point.

Though the gesture shouldn’t have flustered you, a rush of heat crept up your neck, your face suddenly feeling like it was on fire.

Satoru tilted his head, watching you with a curious glint in his eyes. "What's gotten your attention, hmm?" he asked, his voice playful as he set the controller aside on the coffee table.

You shifted a little, trying to look away, but your gaze kept straying back to his hands, still resting casually on your thigh.

You swallowed hard, your mind still lingering on everything you shouldn’t be thinking about. "N-nothing," you managed to stutter, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. It was lame, and you knew it.

He raised a brow, genuinely confused now, leaning forward slightly. "Nothing? You've been staring at me like I've grown a second head," he teased, clearly not buying your weak excuse. His fingers twitched against your thigh, and you felt the warmth of his touch spreading through your skin like wildfire.

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out nervous and awkward.

Satoru frowned, scooting closer to you, his attention now fully on you instead of the game. "Hey," he murmured, reaching over to gently grip the bottom of your chin with his long fingers. His touch was soft but firm enough to guide your gaze back to him. "Look at me."

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand cradled your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

The confusion melted into something a bit more focused as his thumb brushed along your jawline. "What's wrong?" His voice dropped lower, softer, as if he were trying to coax the answer out of you.

You didn't respond right away, your throat suddenly dry. His hand, now cupping your face, felt impossibly warm, and your mind raced with thoughts that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could stop yourself, your gaze flickered back down to his hand again.

Satoru noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He tilted his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His thumb paused against your skin, and he leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Oh?" he whispered, his voice taking on a playful, knowing tone. "Is it my hands?"

Your breath hitched, and you felt the heat flare up all over again. He chuckled, low and teasing, as he moved his hand just slightly, the pad of his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "You've been staring at them for a while now… want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You didn't have to answer for him to know. His gaze softened, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Would you like to feel them somewhere else?"

Your mouth opened slightly, only to close again as words failed you. All you could do was stare into Satoru's eyes, feeling your pulse quicken as he pulled back just enough to get a better look at your face.

His gaze was dark, half-lidded, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks—a rare sight for someone so confident, but it only made him more alluring. He watched you with that mischievous smile, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Perhaps here?" he murmured, his hand sliding down from your waist and splaying across your lower abdomen. His fingers rested dangerously close to your center, the heat of his touch sending a shiver through your body.

A small gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and instinctively, your legs snapped shut, trapping his hand between your thighs.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but Satoru didn't seem fazed.

Instead he purred, the sound low and smooth. "I won't, not if you don't want me to,” he said, voice gentle but teasing. His free hand, the one not caught between your legs, moved up to cup your neck tenderly.

His fingers brushed against your skin, sending another wave of warmth coursing through you as he tilted your head back ever so slightly.

His lips hovered just above the apex of your jaw, the faintest brush of contact making your breath hitch. He nuzzled there, his warm breath fanning across your skin, causing your eyes to flutter shut for just a moment.

His hand, still resting against your lower abdomen, didn't move, but it was enough to keep your heart racing.

Satoru's touch was firm but so soft, his thumb brushing against the side of your neck as he continued to nuzzle along your jawline. "You just have to say the word..." he whispered, his voice melting into your ear.

Your breath hitched as the weight of the moment settled in, and before you could even think, a soft, stuttered "y-yes" escaped your lips.

That was all Satoru needed.

In an instant, he was on you like a man starved, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that took your breath away. It wasn’t gentle or slow—it was heated, hurried, like he’d been holding back for too long.

He ripped off the headset, tossing it aside without a second thought, and in one smooth motion, he was reaching for your laptop.

You let out a short, breathless giggle as he fumbled to set it safely on the coffee table, but the sound barely left your mouth before Satoru silenced you with another strong kiss. His lips were demanding, stealing the air from your lungs, as if he needed this more than anything.

His hands moved quickly, one gripping your hip with a firmness that made your heart race, the other tangling itself in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back so he could deepen the kiss.

The way his lips moved against yours was raw, almost frantic, like he was drowning and you were the only thing that could save him.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and when you opened up for him, a deep groan rumbled in his chest as he kissed you even harder, pressing you back against the couch cushions.

Every touch from him was electric. His hands roamed, sliding up your sides, then back down to grip your hips as he pulled you closer, needing you pressed against him.

His kisses were messy, heated, filled with an intensity that made your skin flush.

You felt like you were on fire, and each second his lips were on yours only fanned the flames higher.

Satoru shifted, leaning in more, his body practically covering yours as his hand slipped down to the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your lower abdomen, and your breath hitched again, a shaky exhale escaping as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck.

He kissed along your jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin as his hand teased at the edge of your shorts, but he didn't move any further—not yet.

He was savoring this moment, taking his time to build the tension as his lips continued to trail down your neck, each kiss, nip, and graze of his teeth leaving your skin tingling in their wake.

Your breathing grew more ragged as his fingers finally slipped beneath the fabric, tugging your shorts down slowly, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he pulled them past your hips.

You squirmed slightly, the sensation of his cool fingers against the warmth of your skin making you more aware of just how exposed you were becoming.

With one smooth movement, Satoru pulled your shorts all the way off, dropping them carelessly to the floor before his attention returned to you.

His lips continued their journey, trailing down your stomach before finally reaching your thighs. He nipped at your skin, soft bites that had your breath catching in your throat.

You could feel the heat of his breath as he kissed along the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of electricity through your body. He took his time, savoring every inch of your thighs, his lips brushing dangerously close to the edge of your underwear.

By the time he pulled back, your entire body felt like it was humming, your heart racing as he moved you. In one fluid motion, he gripped your hips and tugged you closer to the edge of the sofa, so that your legs hung off the arm of the couch, feet barely grazing the floor.

The shift made you feel vulnerable, laid out beneath him in nothing but your underwear, with Satoru towering over you, eyes dark and focused.

You could feel the heat pooling in your cheeks as his hungry gaze lingered, tracing over every inch of your body like he was committing it to memory.

Your face burned under his scrutiny, the silence between you both thick with tension. The longer he stared, the more embarrassed you felt, a soft blush spreading across your skin.

You huffed out his name, nudging him lightly with your leg in an attempt to break the tension. "Satoru…"

He didn't respond at first, but the way his lips curled into a small, knowing smirk told you he heard. Instead of pulling away or offering any comfort, he tightened his grip on your thighs, hands firm but gentle as he held you down, making sure you couldn’t move.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice lower than usual, a commanding edge to it. His thumbs pressed into your skin just enough to make your pulse jump, and you bit your lip, feeling that heat rise even more.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours, his eyes half-lidded and filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I'm not done looking yet," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

The heat in your face spread to the rest of your body as Satoru leaned forward, taking a deep breath that caused your breath to hitch.

"Satoru!" you squealed out, your voice a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

He didn't even acknowledge your reaction. Instead, he did it again, slower this time, but now it was followed by a low, deep groan that seemed to vibrate right through you.

A soft, needy whine escaped you as you called out his name again, this time unsure, almost pleading. "Satoru…"

He looked up, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips as he met your gaze. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice a teasing lilt, though his gaze was dark and intent. He didn't stop, didn't let go of you. Instead, his fingers dug into your skin, just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted, completely pinned under him. "You sound like you want something," he murmured, dipping his head again, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't respond, unable to form the words as the heat building inside you clouded your thoughts, but Satoru didn't need you to.

He already knew.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down again and this time, delivered a long swipe of his tongue from the bottom of your underwear to the top.

The sudden warmth of his tongue through the thin fabric made your thighs twitch involuntarily, and you bit your lip hard to stifle a moan. He continued lapping at you, slow and deliberate, his tongue dragging up and down your core with an intensity that left you trembling beneath him.

You felt like you were on fire, every nerve ending in your body lit up as he worked through the fabric.

The dampness of your underwear only seemed to spur him on, and after a few more agonizing moments, Satoru finally pulled the soaked fabric down, the wetness making it almost transparent as he discarded it carelessly to the side.

Before you could process the next wave of embarrassment, he was back on you, his mouth quickly attaching to your nub. Your thighs twitched again, but this time he gripped them harder, holding you down as his mouth continued its assault.

His fingers teased at your entrance, tracing along your slit before finally slipping inside with ease, his movements confident and sure. Satoru moved with precision, as if he knew exactly what would make you fall apart. He easily found your g-spot, and you couldn't help but let out a low moan as he began to work it in slow, deliberate circles.

He added a second finger without hesitation, curling them perfectly to coax even more pleasure from you. He continued to whisper praises, kissing up your body until his breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His white hair laid disheveled, clinging to his forehead in strands. His lips were parted slightly, swollen from the intensity of your earlier kisses, his eyes dark with focus and desire.

"Gods, look at you," he breathed, sending a rush of heat straight through you. His thumb grazed your clit, teasing you as his fingers moved deeper inside, curling just right, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. "You're so beautiful like this... so responsive for me…" His words came out in a low murmur, each one laced with adoration, as if he were marveling at the way your body moved for him.

You could hardly breathe, the sensation so overwhelming that it made your breaths come out in shaky, ragged gasps. He was driving you closer and closer, every touch setting your nerves on fire.

"Good girl," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers moved with practiced ease. "You're taking my fingers so well…" His voice was low, the praise making your heart race.

His free hand trailed up your body, tracing along your ribs before settling gently on your throat, not squeezing, just holding you, grounding you in the moment.

His eyes were low, pupils blown wide as he took in the sight of your face, watching the way your expression shifted under his touch. He could feel you getting closer, the way your breath hitched, the way your body responded to every movement of his fingers.

Without even realizing it, Satoru's hips began to move against you, grinding lightly against the side of your body as he sought his own relief.

He was focused entirely on your reactions; the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths—it was everything to him.

His lips found their way to the curve of your neck, and he lingered there, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Such a good girl… letting me have you like this."

The way he spoke to you, the way his fingers moved inside you, made you feel like you were driving you closer to the edge.

"I-I could stay like this forever," he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke. His voice was thick with desire, but there was a teasing lilt to it, something playful that made your pulse quicken. "Watching you fall apart just for me."

His hips continued to grind against you, but his focus remained entirely on you. He could feel how close you were, the way your body tensed, the way you trembled beneath him. His grip tightened slightly as he quickened his pace, driving you to the very brink.

His mouth was at your ear again, his voice a low purr, sending a fresh wave of anticipation through you. "Think you can handle three next time?" he whispered, his breath ragged and filled with desire, hips stuttering in tempo. "I-I'll stretch you out so good… I p-promise... make you perfect for me."

And that was all it took.

With his fingers curling inside you one last time, pushing you to that edge, the tension that had been coiling in your body snapped.

When you finally came down, still trembling and breathless, Satoru pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes bright with satisfaction.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, his expression now softened with affection. "You did so well," he whispered, brushing a thumb across your flushed skin. His lips curled into a teasing grin, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hope you liked my fingers," he murmured against your ear, "because you're going to like my dick even more."

A/N: hi guys! just decided to combine my alt account and main one... and if youre wondering why this even got to the point, long story short, i was kind of embarressed/unsure if i'd do a good job/know how to write smut but i'm pleasently surprised to see that people enjoy it, so i'll stay posting on here as well... i'll probably just can/save my alt account as a backup tho...

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of “being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Things will start to get interesting now, let me know your thoughts. <3

Word count: 4,9k

Masterlist | Previous chapter (prologue)

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with both arms open lazily beside your body, wind flowing quickly in between your fingers. The skies were clear, morning sunlight reflecting against ashen blue scales as your dragon's wings stretched to their full size.

Dancing and gliding in between clouds, the sky was yours.

As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a sight that would always leave you breathless, no matter how many times you'd be privileged to witness it. The lands below seemed small, castles, houses, and fields afar dwarfed by how far up you were flying. You could see beyond walls and mountains, as far as the horizon allowed. The back of your dragon's head stretched forward in a relaxed manner, seemingly taking in the view just as much as you; the patch of fur in between her long grey horns flew and flowed with the strong breeze.

You reached your arm past your saddle, the palm of your hand laying flat against her warm scales in a loving caress. She cooed, a low groan coming from the back of her throat as she turned her head slightly so her deep blue eyes met yours for only a moment. You smiled. Khamira had grown to be just as big as Meleys, she was all raw power and formidable wildness, and yet, ever so gentle in your hands.

It would never cease to amaze you, how a beast as strong and majestic as a dragon—wings and legs supported by pure muscle, teeth and horns as sharp as daggers, and fire as hot as the hells—could at the same time be this graceful, this agile, and elegant.

Her wings swished with precision, creating ripples in the clouds as if painting a canvas; her long tail kept her body straight and balanced; multiple shades of dark and pale blue shone under the sunlight with each movement of her body. She was poetry in motion, carrying you through the morning sky on her back.

The feeling, the pleasure, of riding on dragonback was incomparable; a mixture of being invincible, untouchable, and yet completely at peace.

You leaned forward at last, uttering a soft command for her to pick up speed and the adrenaline was quick to kiss your cheeks in the form of a heavy wind. Your dragon bomb-dived suddenly, bringing her wings close to her body and her muzzle downwards. An ecstatic laugh escaped your lips as you felt the power of her body moving beneath you, taking you through the air.

She only opened her wings again when you were short of hitting the roof of a tall church, returning to a steady height as you flew fast above King's Landing. The dragon addicted to the rush just as much as you.

If people looked up, they would see nothing but a flash of blue, the silhouette of massive wings and a long tail vanishing just as fast as it came.

For the first time in seven years, you were finally heading back to the Red Keep. Vaemond had called into question Luke's legitimacy of birth, as he was to be Driftmark's heir, prompting you and your family to meet him for the discussion in King's Landing. While the rest of your family came by ship, you chose to ride over on dragonback and meet them there. The swaying of a ship on the ocean's water could make you nauseous, but flying in between clouds always cleared your head and filled your lungs with the fresh air of unabashed freedom.

After bidding goodbye to your loyal dragon as she was guided into the Dragonpit to rest, a carriage took you to the main gates of the Keep. The guards welcomed you with salutes and curtsies, something you were yet to get used to, even with being born into the royal family.

You were headed to the doors of the castle when they were pushed open by an older, bald man. He walked up to you and bowed his head. "Welcome home, my lady. Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra are already inside, they've gone to speak with the King."

Greeting him back with a nod, you smiled softly; "Thank you..." You dragged the word, raking your head to remember who exactly this was.

"Caswell, my lady," he kindly finished for you.

"Thank you, Lord Caswell."

The castle itself was still as grand and majestic as you remembered it to be, in some ways it didn't even feel like the last time you were here was so many years ago. The torches flickered softly along the grand hallways, casting a warm, golden glow on the stone walls as you walked aimlessly. Although you already had a designed room for your stay here, you refrained from changing out of your riding clothes, choosing to stay in black breeches and a long overcoat rather than a silken dress.

You eventually got hold of Jace and Luke who were also wandering about the castle and reminiscing on their childhood here. Despite your differences and disagreements during early childhood, you'd grown closer with both boys during your time at Dragonstone. Quickly enough, between dragon rides at sunset and playing together day in and day out, they became almost like brothers to you.

"It's so cool to be back here," Luke spoke, excitedly walking ahead of you and Jace, "I wonder why we haven't visited more."

"You know why, Luke," Jace raised a brow, his voice holding a smidge of warning to it. "It's not like we parted on the best of terms."

Immediately you knew what he was talking about. You recalled it as if it had been yesterday. Laena's funeral, the commotion in the dead of night, the red of blood, stitches piercing the skin of the prince who'd lost an eye. Your heart sped up then, hands feeling clammy and cold at the same time.

Aemond. He'd be here too, surely. It's been far too long since you've seen him, yet not long enough for you to stop counting the years. Part of you wondered if he did so too.

Something like guilt started weighing down on your stomach, because there had been letters exchanged over the years, mostly holding empty promises that you'd see each other again soon. A young hope that was snuffed out as you got older and wiser; it never happened, it was out of your reach. And for many seasons now, there had been no letters at all. You weren't sure who stopped first, there just came a day when you knew not to send another letter his way, because you wouldn't be getting any back either.

"Why don't we check out the training yard?" You suggested with a grin, "To remember the times when I kicked your butts there." With a giggle, you pushed Jace's shoulder halfheartedly.

"Hey, hey, I don't remember any of that," Jace countered, holding back a smile of his own, whilst Luke was already chuckling with a hand over his mouth.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

The sound of swords clashing was already loud and sharp as you descended the stairs to the training yard; many people were there, some sparring with each other as others watched and clapped and gossiped.

"Looks smaller than I remembered," Luke commented as he glanced around.

"It looks exactly the same," Jace concluded, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and landing on the gravel grounds of the yard. "Come on, you two."

The older of the brothers ran forth to check a dent in the stone walls, a mark of their old training days here. You, on the other hand, stopped to check out the weapons displayed for choice on the tables; maces, morningstars, swords, and daggers.

A faint smile came to your lips. The smell of smoke and sweat, the clash of metal, the grunts and cheering of the soldiers—it all reminded you of cherished memories. Firstly, of the first lessons your father had ever given you, sword all too big and heavy in your small hands, you were only five, yet he insisted that regardless if you were a boy or girl, you should learn how to fight; you still remember the first time you were finally able to best him in combat, you were ten, it took you five years but you had done it; Daemon smiled the biggest on that day, telling everyone how his daughter was a born fighter. And secondly, came the memory of your sparring sessions with Aemond when you were young, he'd refused to put up a fight in the beginning, afraid he'd hurt you; but he started to give you a fair fight when you'd bested him the second time around; you still remember how he'd run around the castle, searching for you and then holding onto your hand to lead you to the training yard, "You're too slow," he used to say with a smile, "If I don't drag you around we won't be there on time."

Part of you wished those moments were infinite.

By the time your mind returned to the present, Luke and Jace had joined you. Jace began picking up the weapons on the table with an excited grin; yet Luke seemed on edge, glancing around himself and at the piercing gazes on your backs from the people here. You felt it too, the judgment and the whispers.

"What's wrong, Luke?" You asked, one hand reaching up to touch his arm comfortingly.

The boy furrowed his brows in discomfort, head hanging low. "Everyone's staring at us."

A soft grimace passed over your features as you tilted your head at him, eyes glinting with silent understanding. In part, you knew what he was feeling, you'd received your fair share of odd glances when at court as well; you were a royal prince's daughter yet had hair in the shade of the warmest grey that almost resembled brown in certain lights, and eyes as dark as the night sky, so of course, people would talk.

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark," Luke spoke, his tone a mix of frustrated and defeated as he still avoided your gaze, "If... if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon, than Ser Harwin Strong."

"It doesn't matter what they think," Jace at last spoke up, ducking his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"He's right, Luke," you reassured, "Don't mind them."

A sudden crash of something heavy hitting a wooden shield caught your attention then, and all three of you turned around to watch as a small crowd gathered around two people sparring. Luke and Jace ran toward it to watch, so you followed close behind, squeezing yourself past and between a few people so you didn't have to stand on your tiptoes to catch glimpses of the fight.

One of the two you recognized almost instantly, Ser Criston Cole, you had never particularly been too fond of him. The other, who still had his back to you, you hadn't recognized, even if there was something familiar about the way he moved. His long silver hair bounced over his shoulders as he dodged Cole's attacks quite expertly; his movements swift, calculated, and still somehow elegant. The shield held by the mysterious man broke and he threw it aside without a second thought, going in for another attack. The sword cut through the air, Cole's morningstar slammed into the ground, and finally, the silver-haired man turned in your direction.

A teasing grin and an eyepatch framed the sharp features of the young man, his single bright eye glinting under the hazy sunlight as he held the sword with a firm grip, ready for another attack.

You felt as if all air suddenly left your lungs and refused to come back, your lips hanging open as your gaze was all but locked onto him. Aemond. You'd recognize him anywhere, in any lifetime, you feared. He looked so different yet somehow still the same; his hair was much longer, features older and sharper as he'd grown over the years; his harsh scar, you noticed, was now fully healed, and yet still evident as a reminder of the fateful night he'd claimed Vhagar and lost his eye; but his smile seemed to be the same you were used to, that mischievous tilt of lips he'd wear against his opponents.

A smile of your own began to stretch your lips and you took half a step toward him before stopping yourself, your heart beat painfully against your ribs and in your ears, bringing a nearly nauseous twist to your guts. It felt as if your body had trouble picking an emotion upon seeing Aemond again after all these years.

You'd wished, prayed even, for the day you'd finally be able to meet one of your best friends again; the lonely, outcast boy you had grown so fond of over the course of mere months. The one you had shared most of your afternoons in the Red Keep with, the one who'd steal you away to the library to share tales of the old dragons. Yet seeing him now, after so many seasons of pure silence, you had no idea where you stood with him.

The fight ended with Aemond holding the sharp end of his sword against Cole's neck, staring him down as a dragon would with its prey.

"Well done, my prince," Ser Criston spoke, rather breathless from the exertion, "You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aemond answered back without pause, his tone filled with finality and eye holding a piercing stare. "My lady," he said then, voice just a tad softer, whether he meant for it or not. Twisting the hilt in his hand, Aemond lowered his sword, his gaze now landing on you. "Have you come to train?"

You were unable to hold back a small gasp as he addressed you so directly. Your whole body tensed up, part of you wanted to answer yet any and all words were completely tangled in your tongue. You could faintly feel Jace's hand on your shoulder yet you barely registered the touch, unable to tear your eyes away from Aemond. And he held your gaze with his unwavering one, almost challenging you to break the connection.

It felt all kinds of wrong, for this to be your reunion and first words to each other after so long, for Aemond's words and gaze to be this... cold. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

You were saved by the sudden opening of the heavy doors of the gate behind you. Soldiers marched through with proud strides as they escorted Vaemond Velaryon into the castle.

Even as you turned around to watch their entrance, you could feel how Aemond's gaze didn't leave you even for a moment.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

A storm raged outside during your first night back in the Keep, you didn't sleep much, tossing and turning in bed and pacing around the spacious room they'd given you. Part of you almost wanted to step outside into the dark hallways of the castle and head to Aemond's room. It would be improper of you, but that's not why you did not go.

When the morrow came at last with the sun rising on the horizon of King's Landing, it was time to head into the throne room to discuss what you had come here for, the succession of Driftmark.

A small crowd of lords and ladies had already gathered in the large room, with Otto Hightower standing before the grim Iron Throne. The image of the seat of swords, being highlighted by the sunlight coming through the tall windows, would always make a shiver run down your spine.

You walked in with steady steps, sensing a few eyes land on you as you smoothed the fabric of your dress—hardly your preferred choice of attire, but Rhaenyra might just have your head if you showed up in your riding clothes. She, her sons, and your father were already here as well.

Daemon spotted you from the corner of his eyes, he squeezed Rhaenyra's hand once before stepping away from her to walk toward you.

"Father," you spoke in a low voice when he met you halfway. Over his shoulder, you caught sight of Aemond, who stood near the Iron Throne with his family; for a small moment, you held his gaze, even if you couldn't possibly read it.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," Daemon raised his brows at you, a rather amused grin playing on his lips.

"Oh, you know me," you chuckled quietly, shrugging your shoulders as you continued walking to where Rhaenyra waited, "I wouldn't miss court drama for anything."

Daemon snorted, uncaring if his laugh would attract the attention of the nearby lords, "Yeah, tell me about it." He brought a hand up to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you through the remaining steps. "It's like they look for reasons to break any resemblance of peace we might have."

You hummed at his words, biting back a laugh of your own, "Se iēdrosa, Rhaenyra ivestretan nyke ao gaomagon naejot mōris se lyks aōla gō īlen āzma." ('And yet, Rhaenyra tells me you used to raise quite the trouble yourself before I was born.')

"Kessa, sȳrī, īlen drējī tolī kirimves skori paktot zirȳ, mērī." Daemon defended halfheartedly. ('Yes, well, I was admittedly more fun than these people, at least.')

"Hen rhinka," you mumbled, stopping beside Rhaenyra and greeting her with a warm smile. ('Of course')

From the other side of the room, the one-eyed prince watched. He'd kept his eye fixed on you as soon as you stepped through the throne room doors. His hands clasped behind his back tightened their grip with each step you took. And for each of your steps, his heart beat twice as hard, heavy and hurting for an escape.

It was true that you had grown into a stunning young woman over the years; enticing curves, soft hair falling over your shoulders, freckles still dusting your cheeks and nose, delicate hands holding onto the fabric of your dress. Many gazes turned your way whenever you walked into a room, it came as no surprise to Aemond, even if it bothered him.

And yet it wasn't just that, no; he could see so far beyond, that same spark in your eyes lingered, the one he'd see each time he'd ask you to tell him the story of how you found your dragon; that same smile that was so contagious still had the same sway to it; your mere presence still made his heart race and hands itch to touch you, as it always did.

Aemond thought, perhaps wished, he would have forgotten all about you over the years. You had abandoned him, after all. You had abandoned him, maybe at a time when he needed you the most. His only friend, and you never came back.

The prince had waited, for nights and days on end, he'd stare out the windows to the horizon and past the sea, hoping with all he had that one day he'd spot the blue hue of your dragon's scales in the distance. And he knew he'd cry, and run to you, and hold you close no matter who was watching. But it never happened, you never came. And the years kept on going by, years of which he kept a close count. By year three, he decided he wouldn't feel within the right to hug you anymore. By year four, he decided he wouldn't cry anymore. By year six, he decided it would be best you didn't come back anymore.

Alas, perhaps he could have gone to you. But he hesitated, he knew he wouldn't be welcomed in Dragonstone; and after a few years went by, as much as Aemond would never admit it, he lacked the courage to go after you. In the most fragile parts of his heart, he feared you'd react as all ladies of the court did when they looked at him; with wide-eyed gazes and poorly concealed whispers about his ugly scar and 'off-putting demeanor', as they'd say.

Yet he had missed you, oh he missed you. In a way that he'd walk into every room hoping to find you there. And now, it finally happened. You came back to King's Landing, but you didn't come back for him.

Aemond watched as you walked into the room, your father meeting you halfway and guiding you to your family. The prince felt a tightness build in his throat, he tried to gulp it back, squaring his shoulders. Even after all these years, all it took was one look at you, and Aemond's resolve crumbled. All his attempts at putting you behind him were suddenly futile, if the speed at which his heart was racing was any indication.

Yesterday, when Aemond spotted you in the small crowd of the training yard, he nearly lost his balance, nearly lost the fight. Seeing you again after so long brought an onslaught of confusing feelings to his chest—one of them being petty bitterness, perhaps even betrayal, despite not having the right to feel so, for seeing you stand beside Jace and Luke so amicably—he hardly knew what to think or do; all he knew was that he was angry that you'd abandoned him. Or perhaps just hurt, but broken things tend to have sharp edges.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You held back a scream as the severed head of Vaemond Velaryon fell from his body, staining the floor of the throne room with deep crimson blood. Your father had unceremoniously beheaded the Velaryon knight after he accused Rhaenyra's sons of being bastards. You watched the gruesome scene with wide eyes, goosebumps on your skin, and a hand clasped over your mouth.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower screamed to the guards, who readily took to their weapons and surrounded Daemon.

"No need," the Rogue Prince uttered all too calmly, cleaning the blood off the blade of his sword with the hem of his clothing. He then extended said sword to you, without bothering to look in your direction.

You hesitated for only a second before taking Dark Sister from him, and once you did so, Daemon raised both hands in surrender; yet a smug smirk still played on his lips.

You held tight onto the hilt of his sword, until your knuckles turned white, watching as the room filled with fearful whispers and terrified gazes of everyone around you. All eyes were seemingly glued to the pool of blood on the floor that only got larger by the second.

"We are done here," Viserys spoke with finality to the best of his ability, before falling back on his throne as the pain of his wounds filled his decaying body.

Slowly and hesitantly, people began leaving the room, a certain eeriness lingered in the air. From afar, you met your father's gaze, and he simply gave you a curt nod, which meant you'd be giving him his sword back in private, later. He'd told you once; "People don't usually fear women with swords, even if they should. Therein lies your advantage."

Beside the Iron Throne, a few steps away from you, Alicent ran to help her husband, Aegon followed after the guards who began removing the lifeless body, Helaena skipped to the main doors with her hands covering her ears, and Aemond... Aemond had his eye burning a hole in the back of your head.

You would be able to feel the weight of his gaze on you from a mile away, you had been feeling it since you took the first step into this room. Part of you hoped he'd have come to you already, you weren't sure what you were expecting exactly, but so far the words he'd spoken to you in the training yard had been the only ones he'd spoken at all. And you were starting to think that, if you didn't go to him, you'd remain forever far apart.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and then another, and one more, tapping the hilt of Dark Sister with your pointer finger until you built up the courage or until your palms grew sweaty. A sorrowful feeling still lingered deep within your chest, because this was Aemond, the same Aemond you spent nearly entire days with during your childhood, be it training together, sharing stories, or hiding away in the library. You shouldn't be feeling hesitant to face him.

It felt almost as if he had been waiting for you, because as soon as you turned around to face him, Aemond raised his chin a tad, blinking slowly as he watched you walk over to him.

All you could hear was the beating of your heart as you came to stop in front of him, holding tight onto the sword in your hands, its end resting on the floor as you kept it between you and him. "Hello... Aemond." It was the best you could do, voice still too unsure for your liking.

For a moment, Aemond seemed to be hesitating just as much as you. His eye flicked with an emotion you couldn't name, but it was quick and gone as soon as it came. "My lady."

The formality felt wrong and unwanted, like taking a thousand steps backward from what you had once been to each other. Your lips parted but you didn't quite know what to say, so for a moment, you just looked at him, at the new him. The long hair fell over his shoulders, eyepatch covering the deep scar, his perfectly straight posture, and tense shoulders. You saw then, that there was an undeniable wall between you, that Aemond had his guard up and was keeping you at a safe, far distance. It hurt, more than you had the right to feel.

"I'm- It's good to see you again," you stumbled over the words, trying a smile.

Aemond hummed, giving you an almost imperceptible nod in return. For long beats, that was all. He refused to look you in the eyes. "It's been a long time," he chose to say eventually, voice devoid of too much emotion.

Distantly, you felt the back of your eyes burn. "Seven years," you said in nothing but a whisper, as if you could only admit the unfairness of it at a certain decibel level.

"And four months," Aemond finished, his voice just a tad tighter and strained, breath running shallow as he strived to keep his face impassive.

His words took you by surprise, you couldn't help the way your lips parted and the way your heartbeat quickened. He'd kept count, too.

Aemond pursed his lips with something resembling a small pout, he glanced at you briefly as he slowly started walking towards the doors of the throne room, silently beckoning you to follow, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back.

You kept at his side, choosing your words carefully; "I hope... you've been faring well, my prince?"

A low hum came from Aemond again, "As well as a half blind man can be, yes." He stole another glance at you, feeling his heart swell at the fact you'd kept in mind to stay on his good eye's side. "I assume your time at Dragonstone has been a most joyful one?"

You caught the bite at his words then, the concealed hurt. A sigh fell past your lips, the sound of Valyrian steel against stone each time you took a step and tapped Dark Sister on the floors now becoming sharp and loud, as the room was empty, save for you and Aemond. "It was, at times, yes. But I also missed the liveliness of the Keep... on most days." I missed you, you refrained from saying.

Another hum, another beat of silence, as you neared the doors. "I hear you came on dragonback." Aemond observed.

A small smile tugged at your lips; "I did. I've always favored the skies over the seas."

If you looked at Aemond, you'd see him mimicking your soft smile for once. "On that we agree."

Once you reached the main entrance, Aemond stopped, and you had a feeling that regardless of which way you were headed, he'd be going the opposite direction.

He held his stance, chin high, shoulders tensed, hands behind his back. His breath ran shallow and shaky, however, hanging on by a thread under the weight and warmth of your presence; so close.

And you looked up at him, with big and vulnerable eyes. Part of Aemond had always admired how you had a habit of wearing your heart on your sleeve. And he was well aware that if he held your gaze much longer, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together.

"I will see you again soon then, my prince." You spoke with a tight lipped smile.

Yet what were simple words to you, brought back the memories of the last time you'd promised to see him soon, and instead left him alone for seven years. Aemond's sight grew blurry at the edges, and before you could see the tears collecting in the bottom lid of his eye, he cleared his throat and made his way around you.

You watched, with a heavy heart, as he walked away from you, one hand reaching up to his face as his steps quickened.

Your stomach dropped with a mix of guilt and longing, wondering if the distance between you had become one too big to ever be mended.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[luxu1230]

4/?? For prompts/Headcannons. (Top Gun)

In which Jake and Iceman met well before the mission so far back that Jake is still a toddler/kid.

So Jake is the son of a high ranked Admiral and newly appointed Admiral Iceman has been invited to his first let's say Gala and being Iceman on the outside he looks calm but on the inside he's a nervous wreck.

Standing at the back of the room hoping not to get noticed he jumps when he feels something slip into his hand only to look down and see what appears to be a two year old wearing a fluffy onesie of an aviator uniform with dark blonde hair. In the child's mouth is a pacifier with a cartoon plane on it and in his other hand is a blue blanket which seemed to be covered in cartoon pictures of navy ships and planes.

Not knowing what to do he stands there nearly five minutes until he feels a tug on his hand only to look down to see the kid looking up at his with his hands raised up. Feeling flustered he can't help but pick the child up too used to Bradley doing it to him and Maverick it's just become instinct. He feels the kid lay his head down and not even a few seconds later he feels the calm repetitive breathing of a now asleep toddler in his neck.

It's not until hours later another Admiral comes up and asks to take Jake Seresin that Tom realises whose kid he's holding the COMPACFLT kid of Johnathan (call me John kid) Seresin. He can't help but feel a loss as he hands the kid over to his Dad and they walk off.

This process repeated over the years and it was known to all people at the get togethers that Jake loved Unca' Iceman.

Then it stops and it's not until a year after Jake's disappearances from these get togethers that he gets the offer of COMPACFLT and Tom's emotions take a head dive when he knows what that means.

Johnathan Seresin is dead. (From Cancer (Just like Carol) just like he could if he doesn't get his throat treated)

Jake's last living parent was dead and Tom hadn't even realised.

( He doesn't even know where Jake was. If they meet again will he recognise him)

He feels like his family is no longer complete even with his Flying obsessed Husband and kid Bradley.

Skip to years later and the suicide mission has passed.

He beat the cancer and all the dagger squad is at the beach celebrating.

And it's not until later that evening when everyone is tired out an adult with dark blonde hair comes up to him and hugs him.

He stiffens but instantly relaxes and hugs back when this now grown kid says...

"It's good to see you uncle Iceman"

And he can't help but feel his family is complete with his husband and Bradley made up and the kid he hasn't seen in years is finally back in his arms.

He can't help but think everything is going his way finally.

(Now who does he do the shovel talk to when he finds out Bradley and Jake have been dating. He knows he's walking Jake down the Isle SHUT UP MAV HE'S DOING IT JAKE'S HIS KID. YOU'VE GOT BRADLEY.)

[latenightdaydreams]

I HAVE COME BACK! i loved what you did with my request omg <3 but now i have something real dirty i wanna ask of you my lovely.

is it possible we can get a mermaid type thing? so what i'm picturing is kinda like the original Ariel movie yk? so the reader can have a giant fish tail and can speak underwater but instead of losing a voice when they shift to two legs, they lose vision :DDD

really it's like the blindfold kink without a blindfold lmaoo but can we also get the reader to be a bit on the chubbier side? reader likes to eat too much krill lol TYSM MY LOVELY you work so hard i love youu

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!!!

König x Mermaid!Reader (fem)

Part 2

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, sketchy deals, blindness, groping

2.0k word count

🧜‍♀️

.

.

Last week you’ve noticed a ship docked in the port; you typically scour for human inventions. Your first thought is excitement about all the new things that might be tossed into the sea or on shore for you to grab. Yet, it’s not the little treasures that keep bringing you back.

You linger miles away from the shoreline, watching as the men on the ship wake up. Only the top of your head peeking through the water so you aren’t spotted. Your eyes instantly focus on him. He towers over all the other men, his pale skin turning red from exposure to the blistering sun. It’s almost as if your heart stops beating when you see him. He’s perfect, worth leaving the safety of distance to get a closer look.

König walks on to the dock with his men, his mind fuzzy as he recovers from heat exhaustion; not being able to fully rest. He has never felt this level of disorientation before. As he walks along the boardwalk, his flash falls off his hip into the water. His eyes shift, looking as he sinks lower down into the water.

“Scheiße.”

König stops, pulling off his white shirt and dark blue pants, tossing them aside so they don’t weigh him down. He dives into the blue water, swimming down after his flask. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a shape, causing him to panic, missing his flask as he turns around to swim back up.

This is the closest you’ve ever been to a human, to him. You watch him return quickly to the surface without his item, so you grab it for him. König breaks the water, crawling up on to the shoreline. He lies on his back breathing deeply from the adrenaline that just rushed through his body. His eyes remain watching the water, yet he sees no shark fin. Could he be seeing things still?

With his flask in hand, you poke your head out of the water. Your eyes instantly locking with his pale blue eyes. After a moment of intense eye contact, you lift your arm with his flask. König sits slack jaw looking at you, a beautiful woman in the water.

Your head goes back underneath as you swim closer to him, showing up only a foot away from one another. You take your time to study his features, how beautiful he looks. His skin was covered in scars and his eyes locked onto you.

“Hallo?” König says in a small voice that surprises himself.

“Hello.” You bring up his flask to hand to him, coming up onto land more.

König ignores the flask in your hand. Instead, he looks at your whole body. Your skin seems impossibly soft, your large breasts bare without a top also exposing your chubby stomach. As his eyes travel down, the color of a bright green and iridescent blue looking fish's tail follows you.

“König!” A group of voices shout from behind him.

“I’ll be right there!”

He turns to look behind him at his men calling for him. Once he turns back to face you, you’re gone. Nowhere to be seen. His eyes frantically search for your presence, but the only thing that remains is his flask pushed into the sand.

“König, come on. We’re late to start the day.” One of his men, Alan, says as he approaches him on the beach.

“Did- did you see her?” König asks, still searching the ocean for you.

“Who?” Alan looks down confused.

“There was… a naked woman. I think she was a woman.”

“I think the suns getting to you again, maybe you should get in the shade and drink something.” Alan tries to suppress the chuckle in his voice so he doesn’t anger the testy giant.

“I heard her speak…maybe you’re right.”

König stands and grabs his flask, walking back to the dock to get dressed before following his men to the small port city so he can get fresh water to drink. The image of your full breasts and soft plush body lingers in his mind. The way your voice sounded so sweet… if you’re a dream come true, he hopes to see you again soon.

You rush back to your home, full of excitement and heart full of love. A soft hum leaves your lips as you dance in the water, celebrating your new found love. That all stopped once you noticed Tabatha, the sea witch, lingering by the entrance of your home. She looks over at you with a knowing smile on her lips.

“Hello, little princess.” She greets you with disdain in her voice.

“What are you doing here?” You stop swimming and stare at her, guarded.

“Oh, nothing.” Her tentacles push her off the rocks behind her body. “Just noticed you were gone today during your fathers gathering.”

“I’m allowed to have my own life—”

“A life near the surface of the water? Near…humans?” She smirks at you as he swims closer, circling your body with her slender long frame.

“Please don’t tell my father.” You instantly begin to beg, the thought of him finding out terrifies you.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I just wonder why you never come to me…” Tabatha fakes a voice of sadness as her shoulders drop.

“What do you mean?” Her act works, piquing your interest.

“Well, you know I make miracles happen.” Tabatha turns her head slightly, masking her smirk as her blonde hair flows in the water.

“But at what cost?”

“You can’t expect a witch to work for free. It’s always a fair trade, it’s not my fault some don’t…follow through.” She turns to face you again.

“Well, what are you offering me?”

“Human legs. Lungs. The ability to leave your oppressive father and explore the world you desire to be a part of. You can fall in love with that sunburnt lover boy.” Tabatha gets close to you, so close her tentacles begin reaching out and caressing your flowing hair.

“What do you expect back?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really…” She goes behind you, whispering in your ears. “Just your sight.”

“My sight? Are you insane?”

“What? Don’t they say love is blind? So, what will you need your vision for?” There is almost a sound of glee in her voice, she’s aware of how tempting her offer to you is.

“But… I’d miss seeing his face.”

“Oh, princess, you’ll get your vision back eventually—if you can make him fall in love with you with this…ailment…then it’s true love.”

You look off into the entrance of your decorated cave. “What if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll keep your vision and you’ll be forced to navigate the ocean sight unseen. A risk, of course, but I’m sure you’ll succeed.”

You close your eyes and think about König. His pale eyes and skin, the scars litter his face and body. You’ll miss looking at him, but if it’s temporary. Tabatha’s tentacles grab your arms and spin you around to face her. She looks into your eyes, seeing the desperation. She knows she has to add a bonus to push you off the edge, making you take the risk.

“You’ll also be able to return home…see your sea family. If you’d even want too by then.”

“I could?”

“Of course. There are spells for everything.”

“Why are you being so helpful?”

To spite the king, your father. So she can punish him for banishing her for simply having a different body. With you out of water, he would be lost. Broken. With you here simply a helpless creature blinded by love—that’s even better.

“I’ll do it.”

The words escape your lips before you can even second guess yourself. You watch as her eyes darken with pleasure. She caresses your face with her hands as he holds you at the waist with two tentacles.

“Good choice. Look into my eye. Just don’t look away.”

You gaze at her blackened eyes. Slowly, you feel yourself getting light headed. Everything around you begins to fade, your body falling into a sleep-like state. Soon enough you’re out of it, puddy in Tabatha’s grip.

König comes back to the ship, later than the rest of his men. His body was exhausted in the tropical heat. He walks slowly and looks over to the beach where he saw you earlier only to stop in his tracks. You. It’s you.

König rushes to you, his body getting a rush of adrenalin as you lay there. As he approaches, he notices that you’re completely naked. Your plump body is on full display for him. While he wants to look away and be a gentle man, you just look so delicate. He kneels near your body, gently grabbing your shoulder and laying you on your back. His eyes exploring your breasts and apron stomach. Your thighs look welcoming with a forest of hair between your legs guarding your sacred cunt. You can’t possibly be real.

“Hallo? Fräulein?”

You hear his voice as you slowly come to. The feeling of his warm hands radiating throughout your whole body. Your face turns to him, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, but see nothing. There is simply nothing. A hand reaches out to caress his face, fingers tracing down his nose to his thin lips.

König watches your face as you explore him. You’re the woman from before, yet your eyes are pale and you seem to lack your vision. The green tail is now gone. He knows it’s you though, your beautiful face and supple body.

“My name is König.” Your heart flutters hearing the name he was called earlier, it’s him. “Are you okay? Can you speak?”

“Y-yes.” Your voice sounds like a chorus of angels to König.

“What is your name?”

“I’m y/n.”

“Are you lost? You can’t see.” He says as a statement as your hand travels to his jaw.

“I am.”

“How did you even end up here?”

“I don’t know. I passed out and woke up here.”

König’s eyes travel over your body before gently grabbing you, lifting you from the sand. Poor thing probably is suffering from exhaustion. Your body feels cold against his body, a welcomed sensation. He walks you back to his ship, making sure to head straight to his small cabin.

The sounds around you seem louder, each step he takes on the wood beneath him seems to boom in your ears. You wiggle your toes, feeling your new feet. A whole new body you have to explore. You can hear a heavy door close before being sat on a soft fabric.

König takes a seat next to you, his massive body completely towering over you. He reaches out and caresses your arms. A shiver runs over your body, never having been touched so delicately before. His eyes see goosebumps forming on your skin.

“You’re a very beautiful woman.”

You place a hand on your own thigh, feeling it. He watches you closely as your hand moves up to the patch of hair covering your pussy.  Unable to resist, he places his hand on your other thigh. In a slow motion, he rubs a circle on the soft skin of your inner thigh. You let out a sigh and open your legs more to permit him more space.

König gazes at you, taking this as the invite he was desiring. His large hand moves up until he grazes against the fluffy bush, gently pushing past to touch your folds. His finger grazes over your clit to see your reaction. Your leg twitches and a surprised moan leaves your lips.

The simple touch of his finger felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Being unable to see his next move sends a jolt of excitement through you. A spark in passion is ignited and you feel hopeful you’ll be able to make him fall in love with you. He’s already obsessed with your body; he can easily fall in love with your mind. 

Part 2

[galehowl]

Another Digimon often seen in Aurora's setting, Seadramon

These large aquatic serpents are another common inhabitants of the Digital World, and can be found in various bodies of water, from rivers and lakes to seas and oceans.

They're excellent swimmers, unsurprisingly, and can dive to impressive depths. A very noticeable feature all Seadramon possess is the metal helmet-like armor on their heads, which is a part of their body, something observed pretty often in many different Digimon species, where various metals and minerals grow naturally on them. The beak and fins of the helmet keep growing with age, and it loses its shine the older the serpent gets.

They also come in a variety of colors, though the most common ones are blues and greens with white undersides, and red tailfins and jaw markings. Purple, grey and white of various hues were observed, along with some minor differences in appearance, which is attributed to different habitats. There have been cases of Seadramon found with bioluminescence, those who seem to prefer living in caves or at greater depths - another trait of Digimon - fast evolving adaptation - compared to any life forms of Earth. They can breathe on land, but they're slow and somewhat clumsy, moving around with the help of their front flippers and powerful tails.

Seadramon, though not all, are known to be more dangerous and territorial than some other Digimon humans encountered, and are somewhat prone to attacking without asking questions first. Any smaller Digimon or animal, including humans, are potentially on the menu, as Seadramon are near-exclusive carnivores, though mostly hunt fish and other aquatic life forms. Digimon can be sought after as a source of pure energy, rather than food. They attack by strangling their opponents and dragging them underwater if they can drown, or breathing out a cone of frost and ice.

Despite this, several non-partnered ones are known to work on Earth, in the organization alongside humans and other Digimon, namely helping with marine biology research, human-Digimon tech development, and issues like climate change and pollution. Later on, as Digimon become more publicly known, they take on the roles of helping in cases of natural disasters, sinking ships, and also patrol of coastal lines in case of aquatic hostile Digimon appearance, as well.

[innerfare]

Paradise

Summary: a collection of short drabbles about reveling in nature with them. Includes collecting seashells, making snow angels, picking flowers, climbing trees, cloud watching, stargazing, and more. Names in bold are those I originally built these around, but I decided to expand it to include other characters I could imagine in these scenarios.

Characters: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid, Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Robin, Nami, Usopp

Genre: fluff

——— 

Climbing out of bed before dawn because neither of you can sleep, having a cup of coffee, and walking hand in hand down the beach, stopping to bend down and pick up rare seashells to add to the collection on the bookshelf in your bedroom, not talking much at all but simply admiring your shared bounty in the pale dawn light as the sun creeps over the horizon.   

(Robin, Law, Beckman) 

——— 

Waking up to fresh powder blanketing the ground and jumping out of bed, barely getting your boots and one of his coats on before you’re outside, romping through the snow. Falling into a snow bank with your arms out, giggling as you make a snow angel, grinning even wider when he surprises you by laying down beside you and doing the same, letting his inner child show through for a brief moment. 

(Zoro, Law, Kid, Mihawk) 

——— 

Wandering through a flower field and picking some of the more beautiful blooms that catch your eye, sprawling out on a picnic blanket in the late morning to bask in the sweet scent, enjoying the breeze as it ruffles your hair, weaving some of the flowers you picked into a delicate crown that they wear proudly while the two of you share sweet kisses. 

(Sanji, Nami, Sabo, Corazon) 

——— 

Meandering through the woods in search of the tallest, most impressive tree, him giving you a boost up to the first branch to get you started before climbing up himself, staying behind you the entire time so he can catch you in case you fall. Finally piercing the canopy and poking your heads up above the forest, his hand on your leg to keep you steady, the two of you grinning as birds fly by, basking in the afternoon sun. 

(Luffy, Ace, Sabo) 

——— 

Escaping the chaos of life and climbing a desolate hill, sharing a late afternoon snack as you stare up at the clouds and point out different shapes, saying, “that’s you,” when you see a funny one. Arguing over which one of you gets to be the dragon cloud, your argument turning into roughhousing and the two of you accidentally rolling down the hill, him laughing and kissing your cheek when he knows you’re okay and then starting the argument again. 

(Luffy, Sabo, Usopp, Kid, Shanks)  

——— 

Waiting until late evening to meet beneath a peach tree, speaking at first in hushed tones, worrying someone is on to the two of you, eventually forgetting about all of that and settling into easy conversation about nothing and everything simultaneously, him jumping up to pick a peach for you to have as an evening snack, you taking advantage of the last bit of light to carve both of your initials into the tree trunk. 

(Sanji, Sabo, Beckman, Mihawk) 

——— 

Sitting out on the deck of the ship long after everyone else has fallen asleep, climbing into their lap once the two of you are alone, both of you staring up at the sky and picking out constellations in the night sky. The conversation eventually shifting from actual constellations to the ones you two invent on the spot, with wild fables to go along with them. 

(Ace, Usopp, Robin) 

——— 

Tossing and turning in bed, waiting for the clock to strike midnight, sneaking out as soon as it does and meeting them at the spring just inland. Stripping out of your clothes and diving into the warm water with him, splashing each other and floating on your backs, losing track of time and hurrying back to the ship when the moon dips below the horizon. 

(Zoro, Robin, Nami, Shanks)

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[galaxythixf]

@valorheroics said: “ well, how do i look? ” ( from Jirou for TetsuTetsu ) Question Prompts || Accepting

"You always look great, Jirou!" He's quick to reassure her that despite the difference in her appearance that nothing had actually changed. That she was still the same Jirou he remembered prior to injury and always would be. Even if his lips pursed and flinched with worry he tried to keep his concerns to himself.

For all of three seconds.

"Everything alright? Any headaches or migraines?"

[ooffmlsorry]

One Piece Men Dealing with a Dangerously Reckless S/O

context: by dangerously reckless I mean someone who never has a second thought about throwing themselves in harms way and doesn't care what it does to them

t/w: passive suicidality, self harm? (better safe than sorry) angst. Mentions of blood, injury, and death

LAW

It'd probably lead to a big argument where he threatens to kick you off his crew because losing you would legitimately be the death of him. He can't lose anymore people he loves to violence. When Bepo tells Law you didn't even hesitate to plunge into a thicket of razor wire to help your crew mates escape, it doesn't read as admirable to him. It reminds him too much of himself on Spider Miles. After he gets your side of the story, which pretty much confirms it, he doesn't talk to you at all while he cleans the mud and blood from your skin and stitches the slashes that cover you from head to toe. Normally, even if you've fallen asleep, he talks you through your treatment, but not after your stunts. He's that...scared? Angry? Distraught might be the right word. Every time you do something like this, he's speechless because his thoughts are racing with the reality of losing you. He feels sick to his stomach. On nights like these, he doesn't know whether to sleep far away from you or hold you so close to him you can't breathe.

LUFFY

At first, Luffy doesn't care. He has the utmost faith in his crew, and they put themselves in harms way all the time! Getting injured is just being a pirate sometimes! That's pre-timeskip. Post-timeskip Luffy still has a lot of faith in his crew and a lot of faith in his ability to protect his crew, but he's...different. He believes things are always going to work out no matter what and if they don't he'll make them, but sometimes he wakes up in the middle of night and stares at you, tracing all the scars you've gotten from one fight or another. And then the what-ifs begin to creep in and the nightmares start. After literally diving into a sea king to retrieve Nami's log pose and Chopper has patched you up yet again, you wake up to Luffy calling out for you in his sleep, sweat dampening his hair and his face twisted in fear. You soothe and shush him until his breathing evens out, but he holds you tighter still. It's not in his nature to "bench you" or doubt your strength just because he's in love with you. That would be controlling and doubting you, and he would never do that. But that doesn't mean Zoro and Sanji don't take notice, even if Luffy won't say anything they make it extremely hard for you to pull off any careless "heroics."

ZORO

Much like Luffy, Zoro doesn't think much of it for a while for the same reason. This is the guy that was completely ready to cut his own legs off, after all. But that doesn't mean it doesn't concern him, especially because you don't seem to have a rhyme or reason for all the shit you pull. And he would say something to you about it. Maybe not directly after you jumped straight into Marine gunfire to cover a little girl, he just wants you to be alive at that point. But after days of taking care of you as your wounds slowly heal, after he's certain you're not going anywhere this time, he'd make sure the two of you are somewhere alone and quiet to talk. As far as Zoro's concerned not going down without a fight is completely fine, dying for your dream isn't considered giving it up, but acting like it isn't a possibility is stupid. And he'd tell you as much. For most of this he wouldn't be able to look at you, just because if he does fear is going to take hold of him, but for that last bit he would. Zoro would search your eyes hoping you understand what he's saying. He'll tie you to the ship if he has to, he'd do anything if it saves you from being so stupid as to forfeit your dreams.

SABO

Dying for the cause is par for the course. It's a grim reality that Sabo begrudgingly accepts, although he does have a bit of youthful naivety that it won't ever happen to anyone. He won't ever believe the revolution isn't worth it, but you do make him question it for the first time. He loves you so much he has to compare you to the whole world for a moment, and that's one of the worst thoughts he's ever had. Because the whole world still wins. The guilt would eat him alive until he blows up (somewhat literally) at you for drinking the last of a rare poison to keep it out of the enemy's hands. Angry tears roll down Sabo's cheeks. When he yells at you, he's shaking with anger and fear. It's not up to him, but he doesn't object when you're completely benched while you recover and for a little longer after that. It takes a while for him to no longer angry and scared out of his mind, but once he is he's back to himself. If can visit you every day he will. He has hope for the world's future, and hope for yours too. He's not leaving either behind.