#everybody must get stoned

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[aurlthatyoufindfunny]

You know that those are the only three songs in the playlist because on SpotifyTM, if there are less than four songs on a playlist than only the first album art will be displayed on the playlist's graphic.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 1: Bruises and Bloodlines]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else's protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm's End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), Aemond stressing everybody out, Aegon hating his life even more than usual, RIP lil Luke Strong, don't touch bats in real life or you will get rabies.

Word count: 6.3k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @mrs-starkgaryen @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

Cannibal, a noun: one that devours its own.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s back, you can feel it: a sensation like falling, the impact of Vhagar’s claws against the earth. You get glimpses like this, unpredictable flashes of intuition, a window into the contents of his mind or the scenery he is draped in like how branches hang from a willow tree. You set Blueberry down on the windowsill, where he skitters to the edge and swoops out into the night, chasing white specks of moths and lacewings. Then you leave your bedchamber to meet Aemond in the hallway.

One of the maids is there, trying to be patient as she paces with Maelor in her arms. He’s just like you were at that age: a demon who never sleeps. His white-blonde hair is disheveled, his eyes rheumy and pink from crying in protest. But then they brighten.

“Red Red!” Maelor swipes at you with tiny, grasping hands.

“What are you doing awake?” you coo at him, beaming. “It’s nighttime. You aren’t a bat. Are you a bat, huh? Are you hiding a pair of wings somewhere?”

He giggles as you pretend to inspect him. The maid smiles.

“If you don’t have any wings, I’m afraid you’ll have to go right to sleep. That’s the rule for humans.”

Maelor trills in his toddler lisp: “Then I want to be a bat.”

“Okay! I’ll find some bugs for you to eat.”

“No!” he squeals, dismayed. “No bugs!”

“In that case, I guess you’re a human after all. If you go to bed now, you can help me collect seashells tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Maelor agrees grudgingly, and the maid ferries him away. From the Godswood, great horned owls hoot. One of the knights of Aegon’s Kingsguard, Sir Willis Fell from the Stormlands, passes by on his patrol and gives you a quick nod, polite but a bit avoidant, awkward truths he pretends he can ignore. He doesn’t ask if you need assistance or why you’re awake at this hour. He already knows. He vanishes again, his white cloak swishing behind him like the tail of a wolf or a jackal.

You lurk at the top of the Grand Staircase shrouded in shadows and shifting firelight, feeling night wind skate over your cheek like children playing on a frozen lake, and that breeze is not here but outside where Aemond must be trudging across the courtyard towards the royal apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast. You drum your fingertips impatiently on the stone banister. When at last he appears—first only a silhouette in the darkness, then rippling into color under the torches, black leather and silver hair—Aemond is drenched with rain and ascending swiftly, two stairs at a time.

You grin as you take a step down to him, slinking, conspiratorial. He told you all his plans before he left; he tells you almost everything. “How was Storm’s End?”

But Aemond doesn’t answer. He blows past you and stalks towards Criston’s chambers, rainwater dripping from his hair and littering the floor with tiny, transluscent pools.

You turn to watch him leave, mystified. “Aemond?”

He says without stopping: “Go wake Aegon and Mother. Tell them to meet me in the small council chamber. I’ll get Criston and Grandsire.”

“Why?” Again, Aemond ignores you. This is unusual. You bolt after him, closing the space between you until your fingers catch his wrist. “Aemond, what—?”

He grabs you and pins you to the wall, the stones cold against your belly through the crimson velvet of your robe, Aemond’s hips braced against yours, domineering, demanding, promising what he will do for you after. You close your eyes and sigh shakily—a savoring, a surrender—and then he is tender, turning your face so he can kiss the apple of your cheek. He murmurs, warm and low: “Do as I ask.”

You nod. “Okay,” you agree in a whisper. Aemond releases you and vanishes to rouse Criston. You break for Aegon’s chambers.

There is a woman in his bed, snoring softly and with long auburn hair spilling over her bare shoulders. He has endeavored to spend less time drinking and philandering since becoming king, and yet…it is so rare for a creature to change its spots or stripes or scales. Aegon has always been this way. Without his vices, you would not recognize him.

You kneel beside the bed and rest a palm lightly on Aegon’s damp forehead. You have to be careful when you wake him; he flinches, he startles, he has too many memories of being ripped from sleep by bruises and crescent-moon indentations of fingernails. “Aegon? I’m really sorry, I know it’s late.”

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s you. “Fuck off,” he groans into his pillow.

“Aemond’s back from Storm’s End, but something’s wrong. He wants you to meet him in the council chamber.”

Aegon looks up and blinks drowsily. Moonlight spills into the room through gaps in the curtains. He smells strange, like lavender; that must be from his companion. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

You shake your head.

Now Aegon is alarmed. The dark, cloudy blue of his irises is rapidly clearing. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”

“Wash the girl’s perfume off you so Mother isn’t quite so disappointed.”

Aegon chuckles, rubbing his eyes; something about the way he does this reminds you of Maelor. They are both just boys; they are both so incendiary and yet so vulnerable. “Get out, whore.”

You tousle his hair roughly, smack a kiss onto his sweat-salted temple as he tries to shove you away, snicker as he hurls pillows at you. You are slipping through the doorway when you hear the woman in bed mumble: “Huh? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “Thank you very much for your company, your skills were more than adequate, now kindly find your way home…”

You hurry down the hall to Mother’s chambers. There are seven-pointed stars on the walls and the furniture, green tapestries everywhere. She will always be a Hightower, averse to Valyrian oddities and suspicious of that sinister, ancient magic. She does not understand it; she tries to overlook it in her children. It’s the only way she knows how to love them. You sit beside the indistinct shape beneath the blankets, sinking into the goose feather mattress, and nudge what you guess is her shoulder. “Mother?”

She stirs, and then her face fills with concern when she sees you in the dim light from her candles. “What’s happened, darling? Are you ill?” You are prone to headaches and chills and nausea, you always have been, maladies of the flesh that are either a blood inheritance or a curse from bad stars. Once when you were very young, Aemond pushed you into a cold stream during a royal progress to the Vale, and you had been laughing when Criston leapt in and dragged you from the water; but two days later, you began burning up with a fever so hot they thought you might die. Aemond had slept on the floor beside your bed, and when you shivered so violently your bones ached he climbed in beside you and held you until you could sleep again; and later when his eye was cut out on Driftmark and he was half-mad with pain, you did the same for him.

“No, Mother, I’m fine. It’s Aemond.”

She sits up and studies you. “Aemond?”

“He’s back from Storm’s End, and he wants to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“And Criston and Aegon, and Grandsire too.”

She doesn’t understand. “Now? Why? What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea.”

“What did he say?”

Everyone expects you to already know, but you don’t. “I think he wants to tell all of us at the same time. In the small council chamber.”

“Now?” she says again, puzzled, still half-asleep. “What is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

“Mother, there are only so many ways for me to express that I don’t know. If I had any indications at all, I’d share them.”

“Alright.” She’s smiling; you have amused her. She throws off the covers and touches her bare feet to the floor. “Pass me my robe. It’s on that chair over there.” And of course, the swath of velvet you hand her to wear over her nightgown is a deep emerald green: the color of fertile fields, not blood or beasts.

By the time you and Mother arrive together, everyone else is already taking their places in the council chamber. Aegon is at the head of the table, spinning his stone—a black sphere of volcanic glass—and peering around boredly. Grandsire and Criston are greeting Mother and yawning into the backs of their hands. No one has woken Helaena, and yet she is here, settling nimbly into the chair beside Aegon. He gives her a brief, fond glance, noting that she is fidgeting with a small oak dragonfly he once made for her. Aegon carves wood, Helaena embroiders, you shatter seashells with tiny hammers and use the shards to make mosaics, miniscule yet unladylike violence. Aemond has books and swords in place of crafts. And Daeron…you assume he must have cultivated some artistic talents while away in Oldtown—he was always so imaginative as a boy—but you would not know them. You see him so rarely now. You sit across the table from Aemond. He is the only attendee not dressed in nightclothes. His black leather tunic is still layered with a sheen of rain.

Grandsire lowers himself gingerly into his seat, grinding arthritic bones that pain him. The nights have grown chilly, even here in the south. Winter is coming, the maesters warn. His gaze passes over you and Helaena—the two of you aren’t really supposed to be here, but you’ll be permitted to stay if you cause no trouble—then he smirks humorlessly at Aemond. “So you failed.”

“No,” Aemond says, and you think as you look around the table: No Orwyle, no Lannister, no Wylde, not even Larys Strong. What does Aemond not want them to know? “Lord Baratheon has agreed to marry his youngest daughter to Daeron in one year’s time. He was very enthusiastic about the match.”

“Great!” Aegon declares. “Although, personally, I am of the inexpert opinion that this could have been discussed over bacon and honeycakes at breakfast…”

Grandsire snorts, derisive; he disapproves, though perhaps he is not surprised. He says to Aemond: “You were sent to negotiate your own marriage, not Daeron’s.”

Aemond shrugs, as if it happened by coincidence. “That was Borros Baratheon’s preference.”

“It was your preference, you mean.”

Aemond is careful not to reveal any emotion. “Daeron is young, but he already has a reputation. He is known to be handsome and chivalrous and…” A wave of the hand as he searches for the right word. “Unmutilated. It is not so difficult to imagine why a father would believe him to be a more worthy son-in-law.”

“It doesn’t matter to me, one Targaryen is as good as the next,” Aegon says, and of course nobody pays much attention.

“Perhaps Borros Baratheon’s judgment has been contaminated by certain disturbing and disgraceful rumors,” Grandsire counters and glares at you. You don’t reply; there’s nothing you can say that would help. Everyone knows, but it rarely spoken of aloud, as if it is a ghost nobody wants to inadvertently conjure. All your life there has been this perpetual rebalancing of scales: someone mentions a diplomatic match for you, you stall and Aemond makes excuses, Grandsire and Mother try to convince him, Aemond is immoveable and they aren’t willing to invoke his wrath. Vhagar is the subtext of every dispute. They need her, they are terrified of her.

Criston attempts to deescalate. “Aemond’s task was to ensure the Baratheons’ loyalty to the crown, and he has accomplished that. Perhaps it would be wise to move on.”

“Fine, what else?” Grandsire snaps. “You assembled us here for some reason, I presume. It must be urgent to merit a meeting now. It better be urgent, or I’ll be paying people to shake you awake during the hour of the wolf for the next month.”

“It is urgent,” Aemond says softly, then pauses, gazing down at the ball in front of him, white quartz dappled with blue. Everyone watches him. You share a glance with Aegon; he is curious, but you have nothing to offer him. You turn back to Aemond with bewilderment in your face, furrows in your brow.

“Aemond?” Mother prompts.

He looks at you, only for a second, but you’re thunderstruck by what you see in his remaining eye. You have rarely known Aemond to be afraid, but he is right now. What happened? you think, horror making the blood in your veins cold and slow and heavy. What did he do?

Aemond begins: “Luke Strong was at Storm’s End too.”

“What?” Grandsire says, more baffled than worried. “That runt? Why?”

“He’s a weasel,” Aegon mutters, spinning his ball again.

“Rhaenyra’s son?” Mother asks. “She sent him there all alone? How peculiar. The way she was always hovering over him while they were here, I’m amazed she let him out of her sight for that long. How old is he now? With that plain, ever-anxious, pug-nosed face, he looks like a little boy—”

Aemond says: “He was sent to remind Borros of his old pledge to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim. But Luke had no incentives to offer.”

“And so Lord Baratheon rejected him,” Grandsire surmises.

Aemond nods, though perhaps halfheartedly.

“Well, good,” Grandsire says, surveying the table for agreement. “That’s good, right? With every house that refuses to aid her, Rhaenyra will be more likely to accept our terms, and we can resolve this question of succession without any bloodshed.”

“Meleys and the Dragonpit,” Aegon reminds him.

“Without further bloodshed,” Grandsire amends.

Mother and Criston concur, but you’re watching Aemond. He hasn’t responded yet. Mother’s gaze flits between the two of you. She is somewhat sympathetic to the affinity you share, but she doesn’t understand it. More than anything, you get the sense she believes it is something you must be saved from. The Hightowers could stomach Aegon and Helaena’s match—Viserys was still healthy enough to insist upon it, and the couple so seemingly platonic it was easy to forget they were married at all—but they have no appetite for a desire that defies political expediency, that burns scorching and wild.

“Aemond, did you quarrel with Luke?” Mother says, her tone patient in an I-won’t-be-mad-if-you-just-tell-me-the-truth sort of way. “I know…your eye…” She touches her own face, wincing at the memory of how he suffered. “Did you seek restitution of some sort from him? Did you make accusations?”

“We…exchanged some words,” Aemond admits. “And then…when Luke left on Arrax…” There is a lull, and everyone stares at him. “Vhagar and I followed.”

“What?!” Grandsire exclaims. “You threatened Rhaenyra’s son?!”

“I…” Aemond closes his eye, then after a moment opens it again and continues. “It was my intention to frighten him, that was all.”

“Idiot,” Grandsire hisses. “You know better. You’re too well-educated to act like you don’t. Now, that one…” He jabs an accusatory finger at Aegon, who is caught off-guard, what the fuck do I have to do with this?

Criston says, more gently: “That was very dangerous, Aemond.” Mother covers her mouth with one hand and shakes her head. Her long coppery hair hangs in uncombed waves, still tangled from sleep.

“So what happened?” Aegon asks. “Where’d you chase him to? All the way back to Dragonstone? You must have scared him to death.”

Aemond chooses his words with great care and agonizing slowness. “Everything was under control. Then Arrax…he unleashed his flames on Vhagar, and she…she attacked.”

Everyone is silent. After a moment, Grandsire says: “What do you mean she attacked?”

“She…” Aemond gestures vaguely with open hands, hands that have held you, caged you, dragged you, pleased you until you were forged to him like a blade to a hilt. Again, he looks at you, and what is he asking for? Help, empathy, compassion, forgiveness? “She bit Arrax.”

“She wounded him?” Aegon says.

“She devoured him.”

Criston blinks. “So…Arrax is dead, and where is Luke now?”

Aemond laces his fingers together on the table like he’s praying. “He’s…he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Mother echoes.

“Did you look for him?” Grandsire demands. “I mean, did you even bother to search for Luke, or did you just leave him in the Stormlands somewhere? Did he fall into the sea, could he be wandering around in a forest? If Luke is injured, we should send out people to find him. We could hold him as a hostage.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Aemond’s voice is frayed. And now for the first time tonight, you finally know what he’s going to say. Your eyes snag on Aegon’s, and he reads the terror there, and then it hits him too. “There is nothing to search for.”

Mother is gaping at him, the unwanted knowledge seeping in like rain through earth. “Nothing?”

“There is no body. Pieces, perhaps.”

Unspeakable, suffocating dread fills the room, and then Grandsire leaps to his feet and slams his fists down on the table. “Useless!” he roars at Aemond. “Worse than useless, a saboteur, a curse, a plague, you have ruined everything your Mother and I worked for, Rhaenyra was considering our terms and now you’ve condemned us all!”

“You killed Lucerys Velaryon?” Mother says, stunned. Her large dark eyes glisten with unpardonable betrayal. She’ll never look at him the same way again. “You murdered Rhaenyra’s son? A prince, the heir to Driftmark?”

“It wasn’t murder,” Aemond pleads. “It was…it was combat, it was a battle—”

“A battle with that child?!” Grandsire thunders. Helaena begins to cry, and Aegon places a hand on her wrist as his wide eyes dart around the table. “Everyone’s seen him, it’s no secret, and not a single person in the realm would be delusional enough to believe a clash between Vhagar and Arrax was anything but a slaughter!”

“Aemond,” Criston says quietly, appalled, astonished.

Aemond can’t meet his eyes. He peers down at the table, and despite everything—what will happen to us, what will happen to me?—there is an ache in your chest like cracked ribs trying to heal, a profound lightless distress, a ricochet of the pain he’s feeling. “It wasn’t my intention to harm Luke.”

Grandsire shouts: “Did you give Vhagar the order or not?!”

It feels like a long time before Aemond answers. “No.”

“Oh gods,” Criston says as he sinks down in his chair, turning to Alicent. She has hidden her face with both hands and seems to be weeping.

“So you can’t control Vhagar,” Grandsire seethes. “You ride the largest and most dangerous dragon in the world and you can’t stop her from eating people.”

“I never would have purposefully—”

“But you created the situation! You pursued Luke, you tormented him, and surely somewhere in your sick brain you considered that you were endangering his life! And now… now…now Rhaenyra will be merciless, she will never submit, she will endeavor to destroy us all!”

“It will bring more allies to her side,” Criston says. “They will believe she was wronged, and she will wield that weapon to great advantage. She is cunning.”

“What about your family, Aemond?!” Mother sobs, her face a hectic, bloody pink. “You and your brothers will have to go to war, you might be maimed or butchered, and your sisters and I…we could be taken as prisoners, we could be executed for treason!”

“That will never happen,” he swears; but his pale blue eye is misty, and he bites his lips together so they won’t tremble.

Mother is desperate, tears streaming down her cheeks “What can we do, Father? How can we salvage this?”

Grandsire points to you. “She must be wed immediately. We’ve already waited too long.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Aegon says, but no one is listening.

“Mother,” you beg. “Please don’t let them—”

“She will be married to whoever can help us in this,” Grandsire says. “The Lannisters or the Redwynes or the Swanns, perhaps the Butterwells or the Mootons if that will coax them to our side—”

“Then the realm will burn,” Aemond replies darkly, leaning over the table. “But I’ll come knocking on your door first, Grandsire.”

Grandsire looks at him, startled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Shall we find out?”

“Otto, please,” Criston says, holding up a palm. Then he considers how to dissuade him. “All things considered—the military strength that Aemond has brought to our side, the devotion that he has shown this family, present circumstances notwithstanding—he has never asked for much.”

“He asks for the one thing we cannot give him,” Grandsire replies, then turns to you. “What do you think about what Aemond has done? This recklessness, this monstrous error?”

He rarely asks for your opinion about anything. This is not a question but a summons: you are supposed to disavow Aemond. You are the one who can hurt him best. Instead you say, though it’s not what you truly feel: “Luke was an enemy. He perished in combat.”

Grandsire, Mother, and Criston all begin yelling at once. Helaena shrinks into herself, her dragonfly made of oak wood clutched to her chest. Aegon whispers something to her—you can leave, you believe he says—but she shakes her head no. You are stoic as the adults berate and implore you, and perhaps it’s strange that you still think of them that way since you’re an adult now too, and yet…their gravity seems so much heavier than yours, their tethers to the earth overgrown with weeds and moss.

“I’ll gut you myself!” Grandsire screams at Aemond, empty threats woven from helpless terror. “I’ll lock you in the Black Cells, I’ll have you banished to Dorne—!”

“I’ll throw a feast!” Aegon says suddenly, and the others go quiet.

“You’ll what?” Grandsire snarls.

“Little Luke Strong is dead and that’s a victory for our side. There’s no other way to look at it.”

“You intend to celebrate this calamity?”

“What else should we do?” Aegon asks. “Apologize? Go crawling on our bellies to Rhaenyra for forgiveness? No, she’d burn us alive. If it’s done, we must embrace it and use it to bolster our cause as much as possible. It was a battle and a victory. Aemond is a war hero. Onto the next objective.”

“What a disaster,” Criston mutters, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, that might be the only option we have.”

Mother clasps the small seven-pointed star that hangs from the gold chain at her throat. “I must go to the sept. I must pray for our survival.”

Grandsire glowers at Aegon. “You are a humiliation.”

“I am the king. I want a feast.”

Grandsire sighs deeply, pushing his chair away from the table. “I suppose I have letters to write.” And then, to Aemond: “When your sisters are captured and enslaved and married off to whichever Black loyalists will pay Rhaenyra and Daemon the most for them, I trust you’ll remember who’s responsible.”

Aemond gets up and storms out of the small council chamber. Mother mops the tears off her face with the sleeves of her green robe. Criston takes one of her hands and is murmuring promises, assurances, perhaps lies. You, Aegon, and Helaena say nothing. None of you can defend what Aemond has done, but you won’t denounce him either.

Then Grandsire grins at you, a cruel bestial flash of his teeth, an old grizzled animal tough from too many winters, icy wind shrieking through the chambers of its heart. “Oh, are you pretending that you’re not about to run after him?”

You don’t reply. But you rise from the table and flee as Mother watches you, her vast eyes swimming with misery.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a game with five pieces: the green snake, the yellow butterfly, the blue wolf, the red bat, and the purple shadowcat. They chase each other around the board, and if one of the other pieces lands on the same spot as yours then you have to go all the way back to the start.

Daeron is the youngest, but he almost always seems to win; some people are like that, luck flows like a river in their veins. Helaena enjoys playing even if she finished last. Aegon feigns disinterest but never declines an invitation, sliding his snake across the spaces with his index finger between slurps of wine. And sometimes Aemond is ruthless, taking every single opportunity to land on your spot and send your bat hurtling back to the beginning, sawing your legs out from under you, shattering your hopes like glass again and again until you are so frustrated you can feel embers glowing dry and searing in your throat.

But other times, Aemond pretends to misread the dots on the dice so he lands either too close or too far away and you are spared, and if you win he lies and says you deserve it.

~~~~~~~~~~

He is waiting at your bedroom door; when you are close enough to breathe him in, you taste rain and soot. Perhaps—if it isn’t your imagination—you can even detect the coppery tinge of blood, splatters of little Luke Strong soaked into the black leather of his tunic or his coat. You remember that boy you barely knew, more a phantom than flesh, a wraith who stole Aemond’s eye and then was spirited away to Dragonstone to escape retribution, a tiny god who Viserys worshipped from afar the same way he never stopped loving Rhaenyra. All you knew of your father was absence, and this was a sadness but a relief as well, because you could not escape the sense that if he was there you would only disappoint him.

“What is wrong with you?!” you whisper savagely. Aemond smiles and reaches for your face, but you swat his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me. You’re insane, you’re going to get us all killed—”

He drags you into your bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind him. He’s lean but wiry, all muscle, and when you fight him—although you both know you want him to win—it is in vain. He tugs your hair out of its braid and hauls you across the room, pushes you down on the bed, rips off his coat and tunic and then follows you onto the mattress. You clamber away until you hit the headboard, your spine flat against the wood. As he closes in on you, your palm cracks across the blind side of Aemond’s face, and he grins. You have often thought that it should have been reversed, you wed to Aegon and Aemond to Helaena. You would not be so scandalized by Aegon’s vices; Aemond would be chivalrous with a meek, compliant wife. But alas, Helaena was born first, and the arrangement was set in stone long before any of your natures became apparent.

Aemond unfastens your robe and reaches under your nightgown of white cotton. “Open your legs.”

“No.” It is always this way with him; it always has been. You fight and he vanquishes, and both of you enjoy it.

He forces your thighs apart and you moan, the resistance bleeding out of you, you muscles going soft and yielding, Aemond radiant with this clandestine conquest on a night when nothing else is under his control. He can only love you when you’re tamed and tractable. Sometimes you think he likes that you don’t have a dragon, that your egg never hatched, that all of the unclaimed beasts denied you. You will always be vulnerable, powerless, at his mercy.

You cling to Aemond, your arms around his neck. He knows exactly what you need because you’ve already done this, more times than either of you could count: everything besides what could get you pregnant, and not just because Aemond would rather slit his own throat than have bastards like Rhaenyra’s. It’s something you’re both saving until at last you are married, and no one except The Stranger can separate you.

You gasp and Aemond growls through your hair: “Shh. Hurry up.”

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He doesn’t have to say it back; if he hadn’t missed you, he wouldn’t be here right now, two fingers buried to the knuckles and the heel of his hand grinding against you, almost, almost, almost…

The bedchamber door bangs opens, and Aegon saunters in with a goblet of wine, emeralds gleaming on the rim.

“Stop,” you tell Aemond, but he knows you don’t mean it, not really; beneath your nightgown his hand works faster, more roughly. You sigh and kiss him, deep and messy, surrendering, very close.

Aegon takes a swig of wine, licks the stray drops from his lips, and frowns down at you both, slightly intrigued but mostly nauseated. He cannot fathom a hunger for his own.

Aemond looks to him and says casually: “Do you want something?”

“I do, actually,” Aegon replies. “Were you planning to thank me?”

“Thank you for what?”

“For what I did for you in the council chamber, obviously. For the feast.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you, Aegon,” you say, and you are sincere.

Aegon raises his goblet in a mock toast. “That’s very kind, Red, but I wasn’t asking you.”

You whimper against Aemond’s throat, embarrassed but in ecstasy, not able to hold off much longer. “Aemond, just thank him.”

“Well I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment.”

“That’s okay,” Aegon says. “I can wait.” He sits at the end of the bed, then bounces up and down a few times. “Oh, this is a great mattress! Very soft, like sleeping on a cloud! Why isn’t mine this nice?”

“Probably because you’ve ejaculated all over it five thousand times,” Aemond says.

“Oh, right,” Aegon jests. “Not quite that frequently, I think.”

“Aemond,” you plead breathlessly. “Just say thank you. Get rid of him.”

Aemond sighs and, with his hand still beneath your nightgown, turns to Aegon. “Thank you.”

Aegon smirks, mischievous. “And how will you repay me?”

“By overcompensating for your shortcomings in order to ensure the enduring success of our family, as I have done since birth.”

“Of course,” Aegon says, though a bit distantly.

Aemond glances down at you and then asks his brother: “Were you hoping to join us?” It’s not a serious question; if Aegon ever tried to touch you with genuine desire, Aemond would break both his arms. Fortunately, Aegon is the closest thing you’ll ever have to a real brother, and thus his limbs are safe.

Aegon chuckles and stands. “No, this is a bit unsavory, even for my taste.” He gulps the last of his wine and says as he leaves: “Enjoy, freaks.”

“Bye, Aegon,” you call, laughing. He waves and then closes the door behind him.

Seconds later—twenty, thirty, time evaporates like mist burned away at dawn—Aemond is making you come, and then you are yanking off his trousers and taking him in your mouth, and when you do this he always has to be touching you, smoothing back your hair, telling you how well you’re doing, and even though he warns you so you can pull away if you choose to, tonight you swallow every last drop of him and think of the sea that Lucerys Velaryon’s scraps tumbled into, the mineral bite of salt and metal and blood.

But when he finishes, Aemond doesn’t collapse like a dead man as he usually does. He throws you onto your back, licks and nuzzles his way down your breasts and belly, parts your legs and murmurs against the inside of your thigh before he begins again: “I want you, I want you, I want you, I can’t wait much longer.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s one of your earliest memories. You are in the garden, and it’s a blazing hot day, and a million varieties of blooms cut through the greenery: goldenrods, orchids, lilies, irises, daisies, bellflowers, red roses, blue forget-me-nots. Butterflies whirl in the air and land on Helaena’s outstretched fingertips. Grandsire is slapping Aegon and calling him an imbecile for trying to pet a bumblebee, and Aegon is wailing: But it’s fuzzy! Why can’t I hold it?!

You must not be very steady on your feet yet, because Aemond is pulling you up by both of your hands and asking: If I ran, do you think you could catch me?

Yes, you had said, and then you’d staggered after him as he darted into the foliage. Under the shade of blossoms and shrubs that towered so much taller than you, you tripped and fell and scraped your palms, one of them bleeding from striking a pebble. You cried out, but no one was there to pick you up: no Mother, no Criston, no Helaena or Aegon. You wept pitifully, thinking—as children do—that you would be lost forever, that you would never see your family again.

But Aemond came back for you, and he studied your bloodied palm, carefully plucking out every grain of brown soil; and then he kissed it, held it against his cheek, painted himself with the scarlet ink of your arteries and veins.

See? he had said, smiling so you knew everything would be okay. Now we’re both red.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How are the babies?” Aemond asks when he arrives, dressed for the feast in a green tunic embroidered with shimmering gold threads in the shapes of dragons, flying, shrieking, breathing fire. Helaena made it for him, of course. Each of you have wardrobes full of garments she’s sewn, a collection of Aegon’s woodcarvings scattered around your rooms, seashell mosaics hanging from walls: insects for Helaena, Sunfyre for Aegon, heroes from myths for Aemond.

You grin over your shoulder. “Come see them.”

It’s dusk now, so they are leaving the roost you keep in one corner of your bedchamber, covered with dark velvet to blot out light and sound as they slumber. Aemond kneels beside you and holds out his hand so River can scurry from your palm into his, clawing with his hooklike appendages. All of your bats are named after blue things—Blueberry, Sailfish, Clear Sky, Blue Jay, Misty, Dragonfly, Lagoon, Lightning, Kingfisher—just as Aemond’s hawks and war horses are given names like Fox and Rusty and Cherry and Pomegranate. He is the only one who defends your pets when Mother threatens to banish them back to the Godswood or the seaside cliffs. You have no dragon; you must find solace with some other creature that inspires dread and revulsion. But you think they’re beautiful, and strange, and fearless, and wrongly unloved.

“Let’s move things along,” Aegon says as he appears in the doorway, wearing all green except for the Conqueror’s crown. “No one can dig into the roast boar until the guest of honor enters the Great Hall. So I need Aemond to show up immediately.”

“Almost ready,” Aemond replies without looking away from River, who is now scrambling up his forearm. Lighting takes flight and attempts to land on Aegon’s shoulder; Aegon yelps and flings him away.

“No, you can’t!” you say, rushing across the room to scoop up Lightning and cradle him in your arms. Fortunately, he is unharmed. “I told you, Aegon. They have tiny bones, you have to be gentle or you’ll hurt them.”

Aegon shudders. “They’re fucking disgusting. Rats with wings.”

Aemond sets River on the windowsill, goes to his brother, shoves him hard; Aegon’s back hits the wall. His crown is knocked from his head and clatters against the floor.

“I’m not apologizing,” Aegon insists. “I’m a victim of grave injustice. I was attacked. That thing could have bitten me.”

You say to Aemond in High Valyrian: “Should we do this for a while to annoy him?”

Aemond smiles. “Yes. We should talk a lot. A great amount, we should talk. Very much talking.”

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Aegon says.

“Aemond, what else will they serve besides boar?”

“I heard something about pies.”

“What kinds of pies?”

“Who knows. Maybe apple, or cherry, or plum…”

“Oh, I adore apple pies. Perfect for autumn. I could eat them all day.”

“I could eat you all day.”

“Don’t tease me, or we’ll never make it to the feast.”

Aegon is distressed. “I mean it! Stop!”

“They aren’t saying anything important,” Helaena assures him as she swishes into your bedchamber wearing a butter yellow gown. In her hair are gold pins shaped like ladybugs.

“Okay, but what are they talking about?”

Helaena says matter-of-factly: “Sex and pastries.”

Aegon groans and rolls his eyes. “Why did I ask. Okay, time to go.”

You walk together to the Great Hall, where Helaena and Jaehaera and Grandsire will dance in the center of the floor, and you and Aemond will whisper in shadowy corners, and Mother will peer around worriedly with her large watery eyes as Criston yearns to console her, and Aegon will smile patiently and never scold Jaehaerys when he gets underfoot or spills his pomegranate juice.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s another game, or maybe it’s a ritual; you are a little girl again, and every once in a while, without any warning, Aemond will shove you into a closet or a heavy wooden trunk and lock you inside. You will scream and pound on the door, but no one will hear, and you will spend what feels like hours alone in the darkness, wondering if this will be the time when you are not discovered until you have died of thirst and hunger, until there is nothing left but bones.

Then you hear approaching footsteps and Aemond lets you out, and when you strike and scratch at him he embraces you fiercely, like he’s a soldier who’s been away for a year or more; and he holds you until you stop fighting it and your heartbeat goes quiet in your chest.

[inside-lees-mind]

Hii. Any Dr. Stone requests still hanging?

What about a ranking of how easy it is to make them laugh? (I know it's pure innocent fluff, but why the heck not)

Or, for any spicy folks: how easy it is to turn them on?

Dr. Stone Most to Least Rankings

Dr. Stone is coming back: I must come back.

I’m bored so I’m doing the spicy one. With that comes:

WARNINGS: NSFW, Hyoga being a sadist (canon)

And character list so I know who to bring up while I write this (not in order): Senku, Ryusui, Ukyo, Gen, Kinro, Ginro, Hyoga, Tsukasa

Most Easy to Turn On

Ginro: well this goes without saying. Ginro thinks with his dick. He’s always drooling over girls, abandoning all common sense to impress them, etc. Hell, you’re probably not the only one he gets turned on by… sorry.

Kinro: he tried so hard to act better than that, to be better. And he’s no pervert or anything… but it’s you! Unlike his brother, this is just because he’s so enamored with you. He is not looking at anybody else.

Gen: Most likely to turn you on. Gen is a bit of a pervert… if we’re being real. Amazing self control, but he’s been secretly thinking about getting you alone since this morning, but Senku found him first and so… it was hard labor instead! Much to his dismay. He’s not struggling to contain himself or anything though. Just frustrated…

Ukyo: He’s not perverted nor does he really think about you sexually a shit ton. He doesn’t have a high sex drive, but if you’re in the mood and go tease him… he really wishes you wouldn’t. Now the two of you have to sneak off because he’s either red in the face or teasing you right back and you’re dragging him into the woods for it.

Tsukasa: We have a bit of a jump, and this is where ranking them gets difficult for me. Tsukasa has great self control and is not likely to have trouble in public. If you try to tease him, he’ll just sternly shut you down. Maybe a little flustered, but he’s fine. In private? …you’re gonna get it.

Senku: likes to think he’s above it all things like this. He’s too focused on science and rebuilding the world… right??? He can ignore you for a while, but… rub up on him once and you’ll end up being told to ride him since you need it so bad… he needs it

Ryusui: you might be shocked he’s low… but let me explain! Ryusui loves everybody, has been surrounding himself with hot women since he was a kid (as odd as that sounds having to say it, but it’s true), and so he’s just not all that affected by anybody PHYSICALLY. I think he’d happily oblige if you wanted to get physical, but he’s not staring at your body with a hard on when you walk by or even are nude…

Hyoga: okay an odd choice for the bottom, but also a good choice. I’ll explain. He’s got excellent self control and torture skills. He’s likely to control himself well and he’s not all that affected by your attempts to get his attention. The most likely to make you wait and ALSO not let you help yourself at all. He can wait this out (while purposely riling you up) until you’re crying if need be. He’s lowkey-highkey evil bro.

[haunt3dh3art]

Born In Blood | Yandere Dexter Morgan x reader

i’ve been watching almost a season of Dexter a day now i’m on winter break!! i know you guys lurking in the Dexter community have been waiting for some more work, so this is for you <33 i'm also posting this on my ao3 page if you prefer that formatting - type in "haunt3dh3art" and you'll find me.

TW: Blood, slight gore, slight torture, mention of blades and rope, canon-typical violence, slight obsession hinting

· ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ ·

Chapter 1 - Silence

Miami is full of gorgeous, witty women, and plenty of them would love a piece of Dexter.

But, none of them have ever held his attention for more than a few months. He tries not to let his lack of emotions get in the way of relationships, but its like everybody he meets eventually gets the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

A sixth sense, like when a dog growls at the darkness. You can't see what they can, but go back the way you came anyway.

So, eventually, everyone leaves, as is the next logical step for their survival.

When Dexter first sees you, whether you are an "almost victim" of the Miami Metro's latest killer or someone he sees on the street, it’s like he forgets to breathe. His eyes squint, a darkness glazing them over and something changes. His Dark Passenger appears behind him, but Dexter pays no attention to the ramblings of his damaged subconscious.

For argument's sake, here, you present to him as a victim. Or you would have been, had Dexter not figured out the location of the killer's lair in time.

He's led to a decrepit church, stone bricks falling off the walls, thick ivy covering almost every surface he can see. He makes no sound as he creeps towards the entrance. Slowly, he pushes the door open - it makes a lowly creak and Dexter slips into the darkness.

There is no light here, no ceremonious candles for the next killing, no flashy weapons to be seen on many of the stone slabs Dexter passes. Then, he sees a soft glow in the back corner of the vast church.

A cellar. The trapdoor won't quite close, and a whisper of light is allowed to seep through the thin crack against the floor. Dexter lifts it with deft fingers, careful to not make a sound. His steps make no sound as he glides down the stone stairs down, down into the basement. It's cold down here, and the air is thick with moisture. His silence, although usually an upper hand on an opponent, was not necessary here.

Your guttering screams rang out through the entire lower level; as loud as they were, Dexter was left wondering how they couldn't be heard until down here. You sounded animalistic, clearly fighting for your life and barely hanging on. As he got closer to the awful sounds of clanging metal and splitting screams, a chill rose up on Dexter's skin.

Then, he heard the killer's voice for the first time.

"How stupid can you be? You're nothing but a sacrifice to me." A low voice cut your screams into nothing but whimpers.

The slow dragging of a metal blade rang out into Dexter's ears and he was glad he came more than adequately prepared for a fight.

The killer was one Joseph Butler, serial womaniser and priest. Clearly, God had abandoned this disciple. The victims were most often strippers caught in his charming web, or occasionally single women looking for human connection. They must have thought they had struck gold.

His call card had been arranging his victims' hands into a prayer stance, nailing nails through the palms to keep the pose in place, and deftly placing a barbed wire "crown" on the person's head. They were always sat upright, bound with rope to a chair and lathered in blood.

The blade was new - Joseph was on the cusp to evolve his method, but he would never get the chance.

Candles lit the basement with a warm light, contrasting the suffocating atmosphere. Dexter suspected Butler had been torturing you with hot wax, or something similar, perhaps flames and the heated blade?

There was only a cloth curtain separating you, the killer and Dexter now.

"These are your final moments on this demented Earth. I suggest you use them to say a prayer." The killer spoke.

Dexter pulled back the curtain with one finger and saw he had his back to him.

This was the moment.

Moving as a snake slithers, Dexter stepped towards your torturer, and injected him with a tranquilizer. He instantly collapsed to the floor, making a satisfying thud.

Dexter stepped over him, and reached for his pocketknife to cut you free of your binds. You began to scream again and writhed in petrifying fear in your seat.

It was now that Dexter, crouched to your level, could finally see your face. Butler had obscured his view of you before, but with him out cold on the floor, Dexter could take the time to look.

You, caked in dirt and filth.

You, a look of horror beyond comprehension etched on to your face.

You, born in blood, just as he had been.

The moment Dexter was to undertake his duty once again as the necessary evil of Miami, he paused. Each time he had a killer strapped to a table, he paused for a moment to collect himself and appreciate the serenity of the moment. Perpetually holding the blade above his subject's heart, the point positioned perfectly, quivering in the air for a second of peace.

It was this moment, as he looked at you, that the constant roaring and wailing inside his head fell silent.

His eyes were fixed on yours, searching for an avenue of the same peace. He saw oceans reflected in your eyes, deep and dangerous.

"Shh, shh, shh. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm getting you out." He pleads, leaning forward on his knees.

He places the cool blade of his pocketknife on the rope next to your skin, making a quick, efficient cut of each loop around your wrists. It's a welcome sensation, despite the distant threat of pain.

Your screaming subsides, replaced by hyperventilating. Dexter's eyebrows pull together as he quickens his pace cutting the ropes around your feet.

Butler was only beginning his spree, killing 3 women in only 6 weeks. You would have been his fourth, had Dexter not been 10 steps ahead of his own department.

'Clearly an amateur,' Dexter thinks. The rope was too weak to hold a victim who had fight left to give, but that's easier said than done.

Finally, you were free, and instantly pushed the chair back. It crashed on the floor with a loud bang, but Dexter paid no attention to it. His eyes were stuck to you, mesmerised by you, even in your condition.

"What are you going to do to me?" You whispered, rubbing your fingers over your aching wounds.

Some of the blood on your skin was still fresh, glowing a crimson red against the candlelight. Dexter shook his head.

"Nothing," He said. "But, you need to stay with me, here. I can protect you, keep you safe, but you have to stay."

Dexter never imagined this happening to him. He knew the chances of you trusting him were beyond slim, but he hoped that by seeing your torturer on the floor, knocked out by his hand, that you wouldn't see him as a threat.

Dexter watched you with bated breath, his hands tightly clenched into fists.

You didn't move, weighing your choices. Would you really survive if you ran? How would you know there weren't more of these psychopaths waiting outside, ready to pounce the second you walked out into the night?

You shook your head, pacing around the room.

The curtain was pulled in a circle around the chair and it waved in the air as you walked past it.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"Dexter."

Saying his real name out loud felt like a violation, a curse. Only people in his life knew his name. Were you going to be a part of that now?

You nodded and stopped pacing. Pointing at the killer, you asked another question. "What are you going to do with him?"

Dexter let his gaze break from you to the man on the floor.

He would be out cold for the next 7 hours at least, unless Dexter chose to wake him up sooner. However, on this occasion, he didn't have a plan. He had all the supplies needed for a killing in the boot of his car outside, but he hadn't anticipated for you to be here tonight. The timing of the killing wasn't quite right, and a sign that Butler was becoming a bigger problem than the Miami Metro could handle. The FBI would soon step in, and Butler would be out of Dexter's grasp.

"I'm going to make it look like you were never here, which is why you have to stay with me. I have to.. dispose of him, but it won't take more than a few hours." Dexter said, choosing his words carefully to not scare you even more.

He checked his watch. 10:47pm. If he was to kill Butler and get to the marina in time, the process would have to be quick.

The sun was beginning to rise earlier in Miami.

· ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ ·

[munthersahweel1]

‼️Please Help Munther Sahweel Family 🙏

Help Munther to get him treatment

We are the Munther family, from Gaza, a family of 6 members.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #256 )✅️

I have witnessed a tragedy in our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived many wars before. But today, we are facing the most dangerous and fiercest battle of the current war. The need is urgent for us, as we have nothing left and cannot secure our basic needs such as food, water, medicine and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever. My family and I left northern Gaza for southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but that was not to be. Our home was surrounded and destroyed. Our home, once a bastion of hope, now lies in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

We left our home, and we left behind everything we had in our home: clothes, important official documents, literally almost everything - the magnitude of our loss weighed heavily on us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

I am Munther, I suffer from kidney problems (kidney stones) and chronic diseases (diabetes and high blood pressure). I face difficulty in obtaining the necessary medications.

My story with my sons, Karim 28 years old Information Technology major , Samir 26 years old, Bachelor of Accounting, Aseel 24 years old, studying business administration, and Layan 13 years old, a student.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

I need to build a better future for my sons, full of hope because we deserve life with all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The aim of this fundraising campaign is to save my family - we have no source of income to provide food, drink and medicine, this campaign is our only chance to survive, and I humbly ask for your help in this critical time.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #256 )✅️

Donation link on GoFundMe

Thank you for your kindness and support.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

I literally grew up watching DBZ on Toonami reruns as a kid.. and it’s got me thinking…..

The Destined One (if you fight you know who to get the True Ending) receives Sun Wukong’s memories, but is clearly still his Own Self.. he gets to keep his individuality but now he has the knowledge and wisdom of Daddy OG Wukong’s previous experiences…

But what if….. it worked like a Namekian absorption fusion? Like with Piccolo and Nail?

like The Destined One literally Has OG Wukong chattering away in his head like a little subconscious Jiminy cricket.. but with more quips Less guidance and WAY more Shit talking. 

((Oh God, this thing is so breaking funny?! Like WHAAAAAA?Okay, okay, let me spice it up a little. Beware, slighty suggestive at some point))

After the Memories of Sun Wukong were bestowed on him, he became the new Sage (to the dismay of the Celestial Court). Everything seemed pretty fine with Yuán Fèn. He was strong; everybody accepted him as the new Monkey King, and his wish was to live happily ever after with you. 

At first, it was just a small thing—a small voice that he heard from time to time. Just like when you think that someone is calling you and then nothing! He blamed the successful events; he not even needed to let you worry about!

While he was stirring his own tea, sitting under the tree at your side, he heard it again.

"Young one!"

He stiffened his neck, looking around, but he came back to his tea. No one was calling him; it was the fifth time that day. How strange...

Then, things started to get REALLY strange. He started to hear full sentences, or after he had responded to them, he even received another remark!

"I can't believe you defeated my stone self with that stance."

"I can't believe that I'm turning into some kind of demented monkey with the old save powers."

"I HEARD THAT!!"

He suddenly loosed his own balance and started you and other young monkeys.

He thought he could handle it; he could handle a god as Erlang; he could handle this too!

He couldn't be more wrong. 

"You look awfully tried. Are you sure you're sleeping well?"

He just nodded, just hoping that the Great Sage could spare him some sleep in the afternoon from his continuous blabbering. 

At the end, he finally confessed everything to you. It was noble to know that he didn't want to obligate you to handle this thing with him, but instead you simply accepted it.

After all, you were soon to be King and Queen; you wanted to share his burden!

"Sooo...what does he say? About me, I mean..."

Yuán Fèn stayed silent, expecting something from the voice in his head.

"Umm...nice hips! She's going to bear a lot of kids, young one!"

"He said you're okay."

Things started to get strange when Yuán Fèn started to actually see him.

He almost had a heart attack the day that he saw him, and oh my, if he wished to get rid of him. 

You believed that it wasn't such a big deal; Wukong must have been a rational creature to leave your privacy alone! ....Wrong.

The sound of your sigh and panting emitted in your small abode. The only source of light is a small candel, near the end of it. 

His hands held your hips, while your lips kept on caressing his cheeks, leaving kisses and small bites. He tried to restrain a laugh, but the rumble in his chest took it away.

"Did you like it?"

He mewled, his tail moving restless around.

"I don't know him, but do I enjoy the view!"

Yuán Fèn suddenly screamed, making you fall from his hips, causing you to hit your head in the side of the bed, exposing in that motion your chest to the ceiling and to an invisible monkey that only the young one could see.

"W-WHAT THE -"

"DO YOU MIND?!"

"Uh, uh, uh, you should mind that boner in your thoughts! I think she would love to take care of that!"

And, while your lover tried to protect you from a pair of eyes that wasn't even there, you started to feel your desire and passion slowly fade away.

Things didn't get better, and now frustration started to get attached to you, like some kind of parasite. You were fed up, he was fed up, and Wukong... he couldn't find the situation more amusing.

"Am I in front of him?"

"Yes?"

"What does he do?"

"He's just...staring, just staring."

You clear your throat, while, only for Yuán Fèn, the old sage gave another bite to the peach, looking at the small human that was acting all big in front of him. You took enough control, and finally.

"Sun Wukong... I need to fuck, like for real. Leave us alone for... I don't know, 48 hours."

In his head, the poor monkey felt the great sage equal to Heaven laugh like never before.

@sleepingdramaqueen

@sun-jglim

@crimsonflameproxy

@everlastingmoonlightsworld

@biankanoir

@cromboloni

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

@masksandfeathers

@certifiedsimpinggalore

@cinnamonroll-anon

@justrandomlypassing

@cute-angi

@dressycobra7

@virtualexpertanchor

@szynkaaa

@sleepydang

[harzilla]

So I got two asks related to the lost sibling AU and I decided to put them together. Nothing is set in stone in this AU.

In the famous words of Bartok the bat, Can only end in tears!

If we're talking the bioparents/bio family then a lot of them are shocked, thrilled, even in tears. The reactions vary depending on the family.

🌹Riddle struggles with actually telling his mother. His relationship with his mother is extremely complicated. He just had his entire world view turned upside down and coming to realize his mother has been abusive, and on top of that he finds out that he nearly killed his twin. It takes a long time for Riddle to finally tell his mother and Yuu's there to support him. The two hold hands as Riddle reveals the truth to their mother along with the DNA test that proves they're a match. Riddle's mother immediately going with the idea of Yuu moving back home and learning to be a proper Roseheart. Maybe even hating Yuu's adopted family and thinking they kidnapped Yuu. It's just snowballs into this huge fight between Riddle, Yuu, and their mother. It takes a long, long time before the relationship between parent and children is repaired.

🦁 The second ask specifically talks about Leona's family. While I think it was never stated if Farena was there(but let's just say he was), we know Cheka was. Cheka is, absolutely thrilled. "Who's this? You're a lion beastman too? Are you from the sunset savannah? You look a lot like Papa and Unca!" Leona pulling him off Yuu and grumbling at Cheka for overwhelming them. When Farena finds out he almost charges into the infirmary but Leona keeps him out. Yuu's been through enough already, they don't need to be dealing with Farena too. It isn't until Cloud Calling that Leona FINALLY introduced Yuu to his family in person and only because Yuu asks him to. He has no interest in dragging Yuu into the royal mess of his life and he's willing to ignore summons from his brother to do it. Farena's thrilled of course but Yuu's not exactly happy seeing the way Leona has been treated by the people he should be able to trust. Leona actually has to reel Yuu back from their anger towards Farena, Kifaji, and everybody else. Farena's feelings are mixed but he's happy to realize that Leona has somebody who genuinely sees him for himself. He realizes Leona's closer to Yuu in the short time he's known them, then he is to Farena.

Oh man. So I headcanon, at least in this AU, that mer mamas are fiercely protective of their kids and bigger then their male counterparts. I think Azul's mama and the twin's mama would both show up at the school because, hell or high water they are going to meet their long lost child! No noisy crowman is gonna stop them!

🦈🐬 The twins mama in particular is downright scary. Imagine this really tall lady showing up at NRC. She's really nice to the kids but when she meets Crowley she gets that look on her face and tone and ohh yes, now you realize that she's far more scary then the twins if she wants to be. She squeezes the twins excited to see them but they absolutely have to bring her to Yuu. I see it like when Sophie and her mom are reunited in Howl's moving castle. Excitedly yelling "my baby!" While practically tackling Yuu, crying her eyes out. Holding Yuu's face and bombarding them with questions. Were you taken care of? You look so small! Were you being fed enough? Do we need to send you an allowance? These clothes look dreadful we must get you a new wardrobe. Worried Mama mode activated. Mama bought ready to drag Yuu home but compromises by Yuu coming home during spring break. At least it gives them time to prepare Yuu's room.

🐍 Now, Jamil's family is probably the only ones who actually don't know. Jamil is willing to bury the fact that Yuu is his sibling because, he realizes that if he tells the truth, he's potentially locking Yuu into a lifetime of servitude. There's only a few people on campus who know the truth. Kalim absolutely knows but he promised Jamil he wouldn't reveal it, but it's like how he was willing to fight against Jade's UM because his conviction to keeping Jamil's UM hidden is that strong. Kalim would love to see the two being siblings openly, but he still tries in his own Kalim way

👑 Ohh, this one's interesting. So we know zero things about Vil's mother. So, in this AU, Vil's father Eric used a surrogate. The thing is, the surrogate hid the fact she was pregnant with twins(listen if Lilia can just find a baby and people are chill with it then we can headcanon how adoption and surrogacy works in Twst). Carefully orchestrating it so Eric only knew about one baby. Thus when the twins were born she handed over Vil and disappeared with Yuu. Nobody can track down this woman or the other baby. Eric and Vil never even knew another baby existed. So, imagine Eric's surprise when Vil calls him after book 6 asking if his father knew about a second child. Yuu finally getting to meet Eric in person, and he apologized to Yuu because he didn't get to see them grow up. Eric asking Yuu if it's okay for him to be part of their life. Probably one of the few times Vil has seen his father cry and possibly vice versa.

💀 Cue another excited mama. Oh Idia wants to not involve Yuu in the mess that is the Shroud family curse. But kind of hard, when their hair ignited into the signature shroud flaming hair during Idia's overblot in the middle of S.T.Y.X. She's so absolutely excited that she's trying to ask Yuu 100 different questions, you mean to tell me the Shroud curse didn't developed in Yuu until almost adulthood? Mama is very interested to know about Yuu and their life. Idia almost pities Yuu and Ortho's so excited because his family is all together again! Papa Shroud is much calmer at least.

🐉 Oh I've delved a lot into Malleus and Yuu. I was actually thinking what if... during book 7 when they're in the memories and meet Maleanor. What if she orders everybody to leave except for Yuu. Yuu's so confused because this woman before them feels so familiar, they just watched her nearly strike everybody down with lighting while she yelled at them but the vibe is completely different now. Maleanor being surprisingly gentle with Yuu. Through whatever magic it may be, Maleanor can tell. Yuu crying because Maleanor calls them her precious hatchling and tells them how much they've grown. It's after Malleus' overblot that Yuu finally gets to meet Maleficia. Maleficia who says that Yuu truly looks so much like Revern. Maleficia who welcomes Yuu home.

[crownmemes]

Cold-Hearted Sentences

(Sentences for muses with hearts of ice - or, at least, the apperance of one. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"How can you imagine that I could ever care for you?"

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

"You are a cold-blooded extrovert that exhibits psychopathic tendencies."

"Were you born heartless or did the job make you like this?"

"Do not weep. It brings no solace."

"You're the most cold-blooded man I've ever known."

"You are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard!"

"You're the most cold-blooded man I've ever seen!"

"It is as healthy to enjoy sentiment as it is to enjoy jam."

"You really don't care what happens to me in there tonight, do you?"

"Were you born cold-blooded, or is there some sort of transfusion you can get on the NHS these days?"

"You are flesh and blood! You have feelings!"

"You are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement."

"You must be honest and cold and considered, without kindness or restraint. "

"You should have done better."

"I look you in the eye, and you don't seem so stone-cold to me. You just seem lost - maybe a little sad."

"I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion."

"Gratitude is meaningless. It is only the expectation of further favours."

"I've long since given up caring for anyone."

"You are so cold. If I were to punch you in the heart, I'd break my fist."

"You question my sincerity. You think I'm heartless."

"I hear that you're as cold as the snow, and that you don't have any weak nerves or fear."

"All lives end, all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage."

"All emotion is abhorrent to me."

"Everybody dies. It's the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do."

"This is no time for sentiment. We must look to the future."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Glory Hallelujah

Written for day 25 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Christmas & Glory Hole

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody Lives; Rockstar Eddie; Sex Clubs; Glory Holes; Blowjobs; Reunions

Notes: I did a poll to determine which prompt from the bingo card I should combine with the Christmas prompt of the holiday drabbles. Merry Dick-mas, you filthy heathens, I love all of you! ❤️

Eddie isn’t sure what the correct word for someone like him is. He’s been pondering it over four beers now, watching the bored-looking girl at the center of the room spin around her pole, but without any success. 

Pathetic springs to mind, but that isn't strong enough. There must be a stronger word than pathetic for someone spending Christmas at a goddamn sex club. But he was lonely, and he had nowhere to go, so it seemed like a good idea. 

It wasn’t. The place is glaringly empty, even Indy’s kink scene having better places to be on this most magical of nights.

He should’ve gone to Kentucky with Wayne. 

Except this is the old guy’s first time meeting his girlfriend’s family, and Eddie can just imagine how this would’ve played out if he’d tagged along.

Hi, I’m Eddie, Wayne’s nephew. Yeah, I might look familiar. Yeah, I was on the cover of Rolling Stone last month. Thanks, I’m happy your grandkids like my music. Yeah, no, I didn’t commit those satanic murders, that was- Listen, can we talk about my uncle? 

So, instead, here he is. 

Fuck, he hasn’t felt this miserable and mad at himself since that one time he told Steve Harrington to get back with his girl while inconspicuously ogling the guy’s sweaty chest hair under his own battle vest. 

Eddie sighs, getting up from his chair. He might as well head home while he still has some self-respect left.

He's almost at the exit when something catches his eye. There's a row of stalls in the wall, each with its own lockable door. 

The light over one is on. 

There's no fucking way, he thinks, even as his feet carry him right over and into the adjacent cabin. Someone probably forgot to kill the light. There's no fucking way anyone is in there. That would be at least as pathetic as a fucking rock star going to a fucking sex club on fucking Christmas day because he's a depressed moron. 

Still, he goes in, locks the door and pulls down his pants. The hole in the wall stares back at him like it's trying to mock him. Eddie tells himself to stop being silly. 

Worst case scenario is he stands here with his limp dick poking through a hole in the wall like an idiot. Nobody will know, because nobody’s there. Best case scenario is he gets to blow off some steam. 

Nothing happens. 

Eddie sighs and is just about to pull out when suddenly, there's movement. His heart leaps into his throat. He hears it all through the thin wall. A sharp intake of breath, like whoever is on the other side is just as surprised as him. They probably are. They've probably been in there a while. Then, the thud of knees hitting the floor. Eddie has just enough time to think that the mystery person must be really eager for this before he feels soft, warm lips wrapping around his tip. 

Whoever the person in the other stall is, they sure know what they’re doing. They start out gently, slowly sliding Eddie’s swelling cock in and out of that deliciously warm mouth, tongue teasing the length of him. Once he's fully hard, the tongue is joined by a hand, alternating soft licks with firm strokes, and Eddie feels something urgent and hot build at the base of his spine. He moans, fingers grasping the top of the stall for leverage as his hips buck, trying to get closer to that mouth even with the wall between them. 

They keep this up for several minutes. Eddie tries to keep his voice down, but it seems like each of his groans and whimpers spurs the other person on. And then, they scrape their teeth over his tip, and a startled curse escapes his lips, and they swallow him all the way down, as far as the wall allows. 

Eddie comes with a hoarse shout, spilling hot and wet into that mouth. The other person doesn’t pull away. Eddie feels their throat constricting around him as they swallow.

“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans, forehead sagging against the wall. His arms feel like jelly from supporting his weight. “Shit. Jesus. Shitshitshit.” 

And that is when the other person pulls off. 

“Eddie, if it’s you, please come out?” 

“Wait a sec,” says a voice. A voice garbled and wrecked from sucking his cock and swallowing his come. A voice that Eddie hasn’t heard in ten years.

Eddie’s heart stops. On the other side of the wall, a door opens.

“Eddie?” Right outside his own door. “Shit, is that really you?”

This isn’t real. It’s some bizarre, orgasm-induced pipe dream brought about by too much beer and seasonal depression. There’s no way the person outside is who Eddie thinks he is. 

He does. At least he remembers to pull up his pants first.

The door swings open, and there he is. Steve Harrington, ten years older but no less gorgeous, clad in skintight denim and a silky purple shirt, lips turned up into a delighted smile. They’re still swollen and shiny. 

“I knew it!” he cheers, pulling Eddie into a hug. “Nobody else babbles curses like that.”

Eddie grunts. Steve pulls back, holding him at arm’s length. 

“Looking good,” he smiles. “Even better than on that Rolling Stone cover. How have you been, man? Dustin said you talk sometimes, but you never-” 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Eddie blurts. His knees are wobbly and his head is spinning. “You aren’t- … You just sucked my- … You’re straight!” 

Steve laughs, and it’s every bit as breathtaking as Eddie remembers. 

“Yeah, no, I figured that out a while ago. Which you would know, if you’d just kept in touch.” He winks right into Eddie’s gobsmacked face, then takes him by the shoulder and steers him towards the bar. “How about you buy me a drink? We can celebrate this little Christmas miracle, and I’ll bring you up to speed.” 

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie Bingo

[i-cant-sing]

What are your thoughts on the yandere haikyuu teams x their manager?

Boring. I need some spice in it. How about-

Yandere Daichi as a cop and his darling is a civilian and now he's so obsessed with her that he murders her husband, frames him as a criminal and will literally stop at nothing to get darling in his arms because again... who will suspect good old, everybody's best bud COP Daichi to be able to do heinous crimes???

Yandere Sugawara as a psychiatrist because come on- he gives major "master manipulator" vibes and now he's obsessed with his darling patient and will continue to do malpractice and gaslight her and prescribe her all the wrong meds until she loses it and he gets to admit it her under his "special care" and now he can play with her mind all day long🤍

Yandere Oikawa is now a pro volleyball athlete and he just saw Ushijima's little sis, the same one he used to bully and even rejected (and ofc, HUMILIATED) when she confessed to him back in highschool. But now Oikawa's obsessed with her and also still hates his nemesis Ushijima, so what's better than killing two birds with one stone??? And Oikawa still has a very devoted fanclub, only now it's larger and more powerful than ever so now he uses them and his socials to peer pressure you into dating him and eventually, marrying him because he ain't getting any younger honey and he needs some cute babies out of you ASAP.

Yandere Kuroo who is the smart IT tech guy at your office but in reality, he has his own cyber security company that he uses to spy on you, controls your entire life through your socials and don't even get me started on your online banking shit. If its any consolation, he's very rich so... yeah. He may not look like a million bucks, but he does have them. In several offshore accounts.

Yandere Kita who somehow ended up as a mafia leader, probably inherited it as family business and he has like severe OCD so he wants everything done to perfection or so help you, you will 1000% end up 6 feet under. Mafia Kita who has this vision of you being the perfect wife, solely based om the one time you offered him your handkerchiefs because he had a nosebleed from stressing too much and now Kita thinks you're an absolute angel and he wont let you destroy that fantasy of his. Seriously. He will pick out your outfits, tell you how to act and all, punish you if he must, but he does love you.

Yandere Ushijima who is a farmer and has decided that the reader whose car broke down and came to his door asking for help, will now be his wife and be a countryside mom to many kids (u can't say no, okay? He wants a big family) and animals! But hey, he's a very caring husband and will massage your feet, give you baths and feed you his homegrown veggies and meals daily once you are round with his babies🥺

Yandere Bokuto who is now a popular politician and he needs an obedient wife to keep up appearances and play the "family man" image up. So he decides to threaten reader who had a one night stand with him, and Bokuto somehow has very intimate images and videos of you and he uses them to get you to marry him. And now he controls every aspect of your life and tells you to do exactly as he says, and he abuses this privilege more as he gets more powerful and you could only imagine the horrors he would inflict on you if he does actually win elections, but you can't run away because again- he has eyes and contacts everywhere.

[harrisonarchive]

“Basically I feel fortunate to have realized what the goal is in life. There’s no point in dying having gone through your life without knowing who you are, what you are or what the purpose of life is. And that’s all it is. People started getting uptight when I started shooting off my mouth and saying the goal is to manifest love of God — self-realization. I must admit, there was a period when I was trying to tell everybody about it; now, I don’t bother unless somebody asks specifically. I still write about it in my songs, but it’s less blatant, more hidden now. I’m a very poor example of a spiritual person. I don’t really want anything in my life except knowledge, but I’m not a very good practitioner of that.” - George Harrison, Rolling Stone, April 19, 1979

[iskandersmuts]

Diplomat's Party

Male Reader x Yuna

Tags: Smut, Yuna Smut, Sex, Blowjob, Creampie

My first attempt. I will be thankful with some feedback with anything.

1

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You see the man on the mirror. That’s you inside the bathroom talking to yourself for gaining courage. “You can do it.” You say. “You did this for the last year.” Finally, you hide again in one of the bathroom’s cabinets. One more time breathe in and breathe out. Is just matter of endure this feeling three more hours.

You leave the bathroom and start counting the hours. Right now is nine o’clock. You can leave freely this party at midnight. As your boss always says “Your job at parties is like being a Cinderella. You arrive show the best you have and before the worst parts of you appear you leave. Nobody wants to know how cool or shitty you are when you are bored or even worse drunk. So no one of you, the diplomats, can show that side. Remember we are representing a country.” He is right we can’t show some parts of ourselves.

But these parties are actually a pain in the ass. The most of the people are here for work. They are not resting. They are not having fun. They are trying to get some confidential information that will help their own interest or the interest of their countries. Is like an international convention of ass lickers, brownosers or whatever you call it. They gather together and start talking about nonsense: “Did you hear about that African president lecturing Macron about colonialism?” or “Did you see what this Bukele did with the cryptocurrency?” You just can’t say. “Of course, dumbass you know that every ass licker here read the same Foreign Affairs subscription that you read.” You just say whatever thing they also know “Yeah and it seems that IOSCO now has a project bill for cryptocurrency.” And then the questions start. “Do you have any notices on the votes of the draft resolution of the injunction… and blah blah” Just things that nobody cares about. Two years ago, you pleaded your boss to let you assist to this kind of events. And now is your third time a week in these events. You would prefer getting a massage with hot stones in your balls right now. But not everything is bad. In this field: the diplomacy. You must be really lucky to find a friend. And you were really lucky, your honest friend is Diego an Argentinian diplomat.

2

In this party at Lotte Hotel Diego does a sign asking you to leave the building and go to the yard. Both of you get outside and start talking.

“Dude, did you hear the big news?” Says Diego.

“Diego if is a diplomat thing I really don’t want to talk about that right now.” You say with your voice showing boredom.

“No is not that kind of thing. You know me. I don’t like to talk about that stuff too. Is about the party of tonight.”

“What? Someone find out about those two gay diplomats that are in a relationship?” You ask.

Diego laughs. “No not that. Something interesting. Korea has changed the main event of tonight!”

“That means that I’m not going to hear the fat lady singing AGAIN the fucking Madame Butterfly.” You say.

“Yes. And also, as they were looking for something new. Moon Jae In used his trick up his sleeve and contracted a kpop group.”

“WAIT WHAT? WHO? TELL ME!” You say almost shouting.

“Is a girl group. JYP…”

“Fucking Twice is coming? Oh my god! Really?”

“No not Twice a bit younger.”

“NMIXX? But they have few songs!” You say complaining.

“Not that younger.”

“ITZY? ARE YOU FUKING KIDDING ME?!”

“No. No. It’s for real. They are coming.”

You guessed correctly.

And now you are thinking: Finally, something good happened on these useless parties. And you are smiling in a weird way. You know is weird because Diego told you. And then you use your experience of these years to act the best you can. As a diplomat you can’t be a crazy fan even more as you are here actually “working”.  

3

The girls finally arrive. All guests are invited to gather and enjoy the show. Itzy is on the scene they greet everybody. You notice that they are not cheerful as they are in concerts of world tours. They are trying to be mature. They start with “Dalla Dalla”. You resist the urge of fanchant with the song. When they end nobody claps. For the awkward situation they start immediately another song. It happens the same nobody claps or even cheers.

This situation reminds you the footage of Red Velvet presenting at North Korea. The public were all quiet. This was the same. These boring diplomats don’t celebrate anything. Yeji as the leader announces that they are going to perform the last song. “Cheshire”. You want to fanchant so bad. But you can’t. They nailed the last song; the others were good too. But in this song, you see that they are trying their best as is their last song and till now they didn’t get any response from the public. When the song ends you don’t resist the urge and you start clapping. The people around you look at you as a weirdo. But then Diego joins you and other Koreans too. Then everybody is forced to do it. You look at them. All the girls are smiling. You keep clapping and you stand up.

“That was nice, girls” you shout.

This time just some of the other guests joins. And the rest of them just look at you and the others as weirdos.

This moment was definitively the most memorable. Because you see the girls looking at the few ones clapping while smiling. They finally thank everybody and leave the scenario.

4

You start walking around the party just remembering the faces of the girls when they saw you clapping. Their expressions. They are shocked at first. They look at you and then start smiling. It was a rough night for them. But you did the night a little bit easier for them.

Now just some minutes till midnight. You made your job and you saw Itzy you deserve a fucking drink. So, you start walking towards the bar.

“Look that old geezer is trying to dance” Says someone.

You notice that this is the voice of a woman.

You laugh.

Someone appears in front of you looks you directly inside the eyes and says. “Are you laughing at us?”

You are caught off of guard. “No sorry I didn’t mean that. Is just that no one here uses that kind of word ‘old geezer’” You look at her face trying to know his name. “Omo. Sorry Chaeryeong-shi. I really didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

Chaeryeong looks at you. “Do you know my name? Finally, I thought nobody here knew who we are.” She pauses and continues. “And don’t worry I’m pretty sure that Ryujin-unnie doesn’t care if you laugh or not, right, unnie?”

“You are pretty damm right, Chae.” Says Ryujin. “Is just that the old geezer…” You start to laugh again while she continues. “looked really hilarious when he started dancing.”

You see that behind both, Ryujin and Chaeryeong, are the other members of the group. You are internally jumping so hard that maybe your head will hit the roof. But you try to keep your composure. “Nice to meet you all of you.” You look at your watch is just past midnight. Fuck it you are not “working” anymore. “I’m really a big fan of yours.”

The other girls gather around you when they see that you are talking with Ryujin. They stand up beside you. There it is Yuna with her scenary outfit.

While you are looking at her you try to avoid looking at her chest. Or at least pretend that you are not doing it. She is using baggy pants. You wanted to look her legs too. That’s too bad. But you are lucky enough to look her perfect flat belly. When she sees you, she just smiles at you. The other girls as Yuna are wearing also an scenary outfit all of them have a blue or sky blue piece. But Yuna is the one that caught your eye.  

“You are not from here, right?” Asks Ryujin. Yeji gives a little slap on Ryujin’s arm. She is the leader indeed.

You are thinking. Thanks Ryujin. You saved me. I owe you one. It was getting weird because I was looking Yuna for too long.

“Yes yes. I’m not from here. I’m a diplomat assigned here at Korea, Ryujin-shi.”

“You are a diplomat?” Asks Lia. “I always thought that diplomats were old men.”

You answer. “Well the ones that appear on television they are. And maybe as they are the most known for the public you think that. But actually in my country if you do the right things. You can start as a diplomat at 23 years old.”

“Yeah you look kind of young. But here the most of them are old geezers.” Says Ryujin. You laugh. “I thought that the reason why nobody clapped was that they are old geezers. But maybe is because they do what you do.”

“Well. Yeah the most of the times the show is a snob thing. Like opera or traditional theather.”

Ryujin interrupts you. “What thing? What did you say?”

Yuna starts laughing. You answer Ryujin. “See your maknae here knows what I said. Yuna-shi would you mind explaining her?”

Yuna looks at you. Doubtful starts speaking. “Snob is like people that likes fancy things just because they want to be different. Right?” She looks at you.

You are melting. The eyes of your Itzy’s bias are looking right at you.

“Yeah… Is just like that, Yuna-shi.” You answer. “The people here like that kind of things. Kind of unique or least popular. The people around here think that the things that they are discussing are the most important things ever. They are so full of themselves.”

“And… You are here... So, you too?” Asks Yuna looking you again.

You smile. “I hope I don’t. Maybe I would be just like them if I answer that. How about you discover if I’m like them.” You look at Yuna.

In your head you ran the entire place 10 times. You are flirting with Itzy’s Yuna. You are nervous as fuck.

“We’ll see. Then.” Answers Yuna and grins.

Yeji looked what happened. Actually, the whole girl group watched you flirting with their maknae. Yeji stands between you and Yuna and starts shaking your hand. “You are the one that clapped for us, right? Let me thank you for that. We’d like to stay around but we actually just came here for a personal matter. We are going to the bar. It looks like you are about to leave this party, right?”

Her words weren’t even smooth. You were clearly kicked out. “Is that true? I see. Well, thank you for greeting me.” You say trying to sound as polite as you can. “Well maybe I should go…”

What you were saying is interrupted by Yuna holding Yeji’s arms with her hands. She starts pouting. “Unnie, please.”

Yeji’s answer is silence pretending Yuna said nothing. Yuna starts pouting again. “Yeji unnie, please. Besides he is a Midzy, right?” Yuna looks at you.

“Yeah. As I said I’m a big fan.” You add.

When Yeji says nothing again. And you think this is lost. Yuna uses his final technique her little kitten face. He is pleading looking directly at Yeji. Just as Pussy in boots in Shrek. You don’t receive fully the little kitten face but you see it by the side.

Fuck. You are willing to give your house if she asks you doing that face. And you start wondering why the governments and international organizations spent so much money training people like you to end wars. When probably all they need is the Yuna’s little kitten face. Dam even if she asks Putin to end the war. Will he say no?

Yeji tries to avoid her face or maybe just look at the others trying to find an answer. Ryujin just shrugs like saying I don’t care. Lia and Chaeryeong that were looking Yuna’s little kitten face just nod. Yeji sighs and says. “Fine. He can come.”

“Yaaaaaay” says Yuna. She takes your arm and pulls you to start moving. Then she releases so you can follow them.

That expression that she just used was the bubbliest yet the most attractive you’ve ever seen. And she touched you. You can die right now. You start walking behind them. You just can’t help and you take a peek at their asses. Ryujin has a really bubbly ass. Chaeryeong has the largest one and seems like is not that soft because has muscles around. Lia has the softest one like you can sleep there. Yeji has a cute butt. And finally, Yuna has a bubbly cute ass. She is using baggy pants but her butt can be noticed trough them.

While walking Yuna turns lightly her head to you to ask you. “Hey Mr. Diplomat how old… are you?” She paused because she noticed you looking her ass. You were caught in fraganti so you just looked at her and smile. “Well mmmmm… I’m actually 25 years old. International age I mean.”

After you answer Yuna says something to Yeji. Yeji also turns her head to you. Look at you and nods to Yuna.

All of you finally arrive at the bar. Ryujin asks for champagne for everybody including you. She didn’t ask any of you. She just ordered. Yeji slaps her arm. “Ryujin yaaa. Why do you always do that?”

Ryujin answers. “It doesn’t matter. All of us were going to drink that anyway. Right?”

You see around and everybody is nodding. It seems that the dominant Ryujin you see trough tv screen is actually a dominant Ryujin in real life.

“Let’s make a toast. Raise your glasses” Says Yeji. And by looking at the girls and you she is ordering you to do it. Everybody raises their glasses. “Our schedule didn’t let us to celebrate properly the birthday of our beloved maknae. Yuna we all love you.” At the end of this sentence. You start nodding hard. Yeji got quiet and looks at you. All the girls look at you too and then laugh. You blush. “Anyway…” Yeji continues. “Apparently everyone gathered here LOVES you Yuna. Happy Birthday.”

The girls take turns to hug Yuna. First Yeji, then Ryujin. You notice that everyone gets closer and say a few words in Yuna’s ear. When is your turn you gather all the courage in your body and swallow the nervousness and try to look cool.  You hug her and whisper in her ear. “Is true indeed that everybody here loves you. Happy birthday. I wish you have a good time tonight.” She grins and whispers in your ear. “Well, you can help me to have a good time tonight.”

Shit. You think. I felt her chest during that hug. And now she says this I really can’t control my excitement.

And actually, you got hard down there. While you were hoping she didn’t notice it the hug ends and she looks down like looking for something.

It seems like she felt it.

Then the girls sited around the bar and ordered drinks. You took place beneath Yuna. She leaned on you.

“Oppa…” She says and you got surprised.

“Oppa?” You ask inmediately interrupting her.

“Yes you are older than me you are my oppa, right?” She questioned.

“Well yeah I can be your oppa if you want.”

“Nice. I want to ask you something. Can i?”

“Okay. But if is something that I can’t say because of my work please don’t use your little kitten face against me. I will give in and next thing will be that I’m fired.”

She laughs. “My what?”

“Ah I named your pleading face to Yeji-shi before as ‘little kitten face’”

“Because of Shrek?” She asks.

She gets me.

“Yeah. I just love that movie. But continue. Go ahead”

She continues “Anyway I’m not going to ask you something difficult, oppa. I just want to know what should I drink? I don’t have too much experience with that.”

“You are 19 now, right? What have you drinked before? and what did you like or not?”

“Well obviously soju. At first, I didn’t like it. But then I was into that. But tonight, I want something fancier.”

“You are lucky. As this is diplomat’s party. I think this bar has international beverage too. Have you heard about pisco?”

“What?! What is that?”

“Is alcohol is made from grapes: the green ones. And well is nice when you drink it with lemon and other stuff. The beverage is called pisco sour.”

“Well why not. Today I’m celebrating my birthday. If I pretend today is my birthday. This is my first time having 20 years. So today is the day of first times!”

“That’s the attitude!”

“Two pisco sours, please.” You ask to the bartender.

The bartender hands you two glasses. And you hand one to Yuna.  

She sips. “This is like lemonade, right? Just at the end I can taste some alcohol. Is not that strong.”

You nod. “So did you like it?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Answers, Yuna.

5

A couple of glasses later you and Yuna are talking.

“You know what?” You start “I think diplomat’s life and idol’s life have something in common.”

“Why do you think that?” Asks Yuna.

“Well, your life is kind of controlled by someone: your company. In my case the embassy. I’m living here in this country just to work. And also, our opinions can’t be radical. Do you remember that time where Tzuyu waved her flag? The… Taiwanese flag?” Yuna nods. You continue “She apologized then. That means that no idol can give political opinions, right? Well, I can’t neither. I can’t say Taiwan is a country or say what I think about any president or government out loud.”

“Well… Yeah, It makes sense. So, you can’t hang out at parties too?”

You are so into this subject. “Well, if something happens like a drunk fight or something like that. I’m fucked up. Because in the headline will appear ‘The diplomat of this country got drunk and…’”

Suddenly Ryujin hugs you from behind and asks you. “Hey, since when Yuna is your bias? Have you fapped to her photos?”

You blush and start stuttering. “I-I-I D-d-d-didn’t do that!”

Ryujin laughs. “Mr. diplomat knows how to be cute!” She pinches your cheek. Then she says looking at Yuna. “Hey if you don’t achieve nothing with him. I’ll ask his number.”

Yuna hit Ryujin’s arms. “Ryujin-yaaaaa.”

You look at Yuna. “Achieve something?” You ask.

Yuna blushes a little bit. “Well did you remember before when we were walking to the bar? When you were… mmmm… looking my ass?”

You almost spit the pisco sour. Ryujin laughs. “It seems like Mr. Diplomat likes to stare asses. Did you peak mine too?”

Fuck Ryujin is so straight when she talks. This can’t be a mess. You must apologize. You think.

“Ammm… I do. Sorry.” You apologize.

“So who has the best one?” Ryujin asks you.

This brat knows how to make you nervous.

“Y-y-y-yuna” You answer stuttering.

“Well, I give up, Yuna. Mr. Diplomat is in love with you. I don’t get him. Everybody’s favorite is my ass or Chae. I’m leaving it to you.” Ryujin says while walks out to join the other members.

“Really?” Asks Yuna looking at you.

“Yeah. You are my favorite in everything! My ultimate bias.” You shout.

Fuck. It seems I’m really drunk.

Yuna stares at you and doesn’t say anything.

You blew up. She probably isn’t looking for a fanboy. You shouldn’t have drunk too much.

But she caught your arm and walks with you. You just follow her. “What happened, Yuna?” You ask.

She looks at you and keeps walking. “Today is the day of first times.”

She is leading you to the bathroom. She enters and locks the door.

You are in disguise. What to do now is pretty obvious but is Yuna so you are doubtful.

Before you decide anything Yuna kisses you.

Fuck. Is the best kiss you ever had. So this is how it feels when you kiss someone you really really like. Is like an explosion. Like there was nothing and then a big bang.

The kiss breaks. “Did you like it?” Asks Yuna.

You don’t answer just kiss her again. The sensation is something different. Like you can be here forever. But the night was just starting.

Yuna starts touching your back while kissing you. Then your chest. Your neck. She stops. “You don’t want to touch me?” She looks directly in your eyes.

“No, no. Is not that. Is just I didn’t want to ruin the kiss.” You say.

“Oppa. You know what are we doing next, right? I know you are not so innocent!” She says. And starts kissing you again.

Now you touch her. Her neck, her back you go down. Her delicious ass is being groped by your hands. You lean her closer to you by pressing her butt.  

You start kissing her neck. “Yuna. You are so beautiful and cute. Your mouth, your face, your ass.” You press your hands in her butt harder. She just moans “Mmmmmm….” But then she speaks. “I can feel your dick poking my abs. Just like before when you hugged me.”

You press her butt stronger. So, she can feel it more. Then you lift her up by grabbing her legs and kiss her neck again. “Mmm… I want to see your tits, Yuna.” While being in the air she manages to take off her blouse. You see her lingerie and anxiously you start kissing around her tits. While she is trying to untie her bra. Finally, you receive in your view her heavenly boobs. Her nipples are totally pink and are like inviting you to suck them.

This is the best feast I’ve ever had.

You kiss and lick her tits while the only response from Yuna is “Mmmm.” When you left her legs touch the ground, she kisses you again and she kisses your neck this time. Now she is trying to get your formal shirt off. You start undressing yourself. She kisses your neck and starts going down till she is in front of your crotch. She is in her knees.

“Mmmm… I want to know if you are a big fan as you said.” She touches your crotch. And starts undressing your pants. Then she just puts down your boxers.

Your dick is hard as never was. When she puts down your boxers your cock jump off and slaps Yuna’s face. She looks at you and then stares your cock.

“It looks that you were right. You are the biggest”

Then she starts stroking. You just moan.

“I thought you said it was first times’ day.”

“Yes oppa. This is my first time with a foreign guy and my first time sucking cock big like yours”

She starts licking the tip of your cock.

“Oppa I’m starting to doubt if this can fit in my mouth.”

“Let’s find out.” You say. She nods and starts putting it in her mouth.

First the tip and then she tries to push deeper. Her mouth is full but there is plenty of dick left. She starts moving. You can’t deny that you had better heads before. But… She looks at you while sucking you. Then you are aware again that the one sucking you off is Itzy’s Yuna. So, you start to feel better. Fuck you could say that you are even about to cum. You caught her head with your hands and start pushing.

“Fuck Yuna. I can feel your throat!”

She just says “Mmmm mmmm” as she can’t talk.

“I’m going to cum. Fuck. Fuck.”

You start cumming and you relax the grip on her head. And she frees. Some of the cum goes in her face.

“Mmmm… You are rough, oppa. I like that.” She picks some toilet paper of the bathroom to clean her face. “But you know what this is only starting. I want that big thing inside me now.”

She starts unbuckling her pants and puts it down and also her underwear at the same time. She has a shaved cute pussy and is already wet.

“Oppa, fuck me.” She says and then she bends and you have a total view of her ass. That beloved ass.

“You want me to fuck you?” You spank her.

“Aah. Yes, oppa. Fuck me with your cock!”

You grin and start to play with your dick around her pussy. “Oppa, just fuck me already!” She says.

You put your cock inside her. And you feel tightness. You haven’t feel something like this before. “Yuna you are so tight!” You say. And try to go deeper. “Fuck Yuna really I’m not lying you are too tight!”

“Mmmm… No oppa is just that you are too big. Just keep going. Mmmm…”

You start going deeper in a slow pace. Finally, you get to get your full dick inside. Yuna is moaning already. “Yuna, prepare yourself”

“Whaaaaaaa… aaah… mmm… mmm” She starts moaning. You are slamming her in a rapid pace. And then she says “Cumming aaaah” You don’t slow down. And then she shouts again moaning again but this time her legs start to shake. But you don’t slow down.

Fuck you’ d love to see Yuna’s cumming face. But right now in exchange you have a full view of her cute butt and her pussy while your cock enters and disappears. She is moaning so hard.

“Aaaaah… Oppa. I love how you fuck me. You are really deep into me.” She says.

And is true is almost like your tip is kissing her womb. This tightness is almost like her walls are never letting you go. Like their insides are sucking you up. Is this heaven? The pleasure right now is out of this world.

While dreaming off, it happens you cum inside her. Fuck you really fast up the pace because now you are out of breath. Yuna stands up looks at you smiles and kisses you. “That was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. And really orgasms because it happened multiple times” Yuna says. “You are special and fuck you cummed so much”. At the moment white liquid starts to drip from her crotch.

Suddenly the door sounds. There are lots of knock knock and then a voice: “Yuna we need to leave now. They found out about the manager bribed. We will be waiting for you on the car outside.”

You look to Yuna. And she starts explaining. “Have you heard anytime about Itzy joining a party where they were having a show. Or have happened ever that the last entertainment show joins the party in your diplomat events?”

“Well… Being honest I never heard of that. And that never happened. I don’t remember that the fat lady singer ever joined the party after her show.”

“Yeah. That’s what’s normal. But we bribed our manager to tell JYP we were already at the dorm and we sneaked into the party.”

“So you weren’t invited to the party? And wait did you lie to Jyp?” You ask.

While this conversation was made Yuna started dressing up. As you see it you start looking for your clothes too.

Yuna answers “Yeah, that’s why we were just in the bar. I mean we didn’t want to catch too much attention. And also, we were with our stage clothes if we were invited, we probably were wearing some fancy dresses or something like that. And yeah, we lied to Jyp. He is nice but sometimes he is just a pain in the ass. You know if it was for him, I’ll be virgin even now.”

“Well yeah if you had gone to the main saloon, you probably had caught more attention. Then I must be really thankful for that bribe because if that wasn’t happened, this wasn’t happened.”

“Yes, oppa. And also, is thanks to Yeji. When you looked my ass, I was asking Yeji if I can be with you and she nodded. But sadly, I must say bye now. I really want to have another meeting with you and that big thing of yours.” She kisses you and continues. “and maybe we can try other things. You know Ryujin says that anal sex is way better than normal sex. But I don’t know maybe I need to experience it by first hand.” She hands you a piece of paper.

“Is your number?” You ask like pleading.

“Aww you can be a cutie pie too. Yes, it is. I must be going. Is better if I leave alone. Wait inside here and after a couple minutes leave. Ok?” She says.

“Yes. I’ll be expecting our next meeting.”

“Me too.” She kisses you and then leaves the bathroom.

That actually happened. You think. I had sex with my ultimate bias.

And now you remember all the things the view of her precious ass. Her eyes while she was sucking you off. The taste of her lips. Her essence. Her ass in your palms. Her surprised eyes when she saw your cock. The sensation of his tongue in your cock and her throat.

The sound of your phone wakes you up. Some text messages.

“Hey Oppa is Yuna. It seems like you weren’t the only diplomat getting fun. Ryujin also had fun with an argentinian diplomat. And he knows you, so the girls and I got his number and yours. Let’s have another meeting soon”

You smile. What is even better that you fucking your bias from Itzy is that your friend could do it too and maybe he even had anal sex with Ryujin. It seems that this kind of parties are not so bad.

[ant0nsfirstluv]

Riize Romantic Headcanons (2)

A/N: part twooo of my last posts + expanding on certain headcanons ♾️

Warnings: None

More under the cut

Shotaro:

lovesss to hype you, if you ever posted on insta he’d comment so much, repost it on his personal story, text you about how pretty you looked

he’d shamelessly compliment you so often, literally he’d see you for the first time in the day and would just shower you in so much praise and affection

always. taking. photos of you just for him to look at while he’s away or just because you look so goodt

Sends you video clips of him dancing and gets all smiley when you compliment him even though he knowsss he did good

holds you on his back especially if you two have been walking for a while and want to take a break

aggressively supportive !!! literally cheers you on no matter what interest or hobby you decide to take on

Thanks you allll the time and gives you a small kiss each time he does, you could literally just hand him a tissue and he’d be “thank youu 😙”

The least conflicts could ever happen with him tbsh, even if there was a disagreement between you two he’s level headed enough to where you two will somehow someway find a solution

Eunseok:

doesn’t have a specific nickname for you because he’ll just call you his “little [insert random thing]” or “my [insert random thing]

I like to think he’d call you his flower but that’s just me 🌚 leave it up to your imagination

messes with your hair often, sometimes he’ll literally just wordlessly play with it until you snap him back into reality

verrry sudden compliments, out of nowhere he’ll drop the most sweet blush inducing compliment ever and then go back to being stone or messing with you 😭

randomly appears at your house without saying anything, you’d literally be walking around your home and he would just walk in like “hey 🙋”

you two will be in the same place and he’ll still text/facetime you instead of just walking to where you are to tell/show you what he needs to say

he loves staying in with you even if you two do practically nothing he’d be fine with you on his lap while watching tv and snacking

protective but in a very calm sense. helps you avoid things he knows you’re particularly uncomfy with or just borderline keeps you out of harms way by being right by you

Sungchan:

has soft launched you two like 5 million times everybody knows you two are together atp he is NOT slick bro 😭

as I said in the last post he loves kissing your face and I feel like he’d wake you up by giving you some kisses on your cheek while whispering your name

eating together is a must he will literally just text and ask to eat together at your fave restaurant just because and let’s you order wtv you want

has his hands on you in someee type of way literally he finds a way or reason to touch you no matter what he just can’t keep his hands to himself ☹️

would buy matching or similar gym wear for you two if you ever do or want to come to the gym with him, ugh the matching sets would be SO CUTE

will literally have you sit on his back while he does push-ups or see how many times he can squat while holding you

alwaysss reminiscing about moments between you two throughout the relationship the amount of cute convos that happened because of him starting with “babe do you remember when…”

loves being praised by you like your compliments literally make his whole entire day PLEASE DO ! send him sweet motivational goodmorning texts

Wonbin:

let’s keep it real for a moment…he would most definitely call you his pretty girl

has his moments of just staring/adoring you, whether you two are on opposite sides of the room or if he’s right by you while you’re doing something

if you guys don’t know, wonbin has mentioned that he has a habit of doing things 7 times in a row, so ofc in my mind,, he probably kisses you 7 times before you leave his place :( or before you gts

there’s been so many times where he’d be hanging out with the members and will just DISAPPEAR as soon as you ask to hang out, the members will ask where he went and he’s already at your house 😭

if someone made you even slightly visibly uncomfortable or upset he would glare at them until they went/looked away

if a girl tried getting his number or something he’d probably blankly look at them for a good…3 seconds and then just “no 🫤”

no matter where you’re laying down he’ll curl up right next to you or on top of you and he lovesss taking a nap with you

absolutely geeks when you two accidentally match or wear similar outfits he will find out what you’re gonna wear just so he can secretly wear the same thing 🌚

would paint a nail with your initial 🌚 but would get sooo shy when anybody outside of the members asked what the letter meant LOL

Seunghan:

you could be wearing… a plastic bag…and he’ll still be like “you’re so beautiful” like man hello

touching your face is a habit of his, he’ll literally be smiling down at you while stroking your cheek and jawline with his thumb and pointer

whenever you sit on his lap while he’s gaming whenever he has a free hand he’ll take advantage of it to stroke your back or squish your face for a kiss

loves to hear your voice..will call you literally just to hear it you don’t even have to be directly talking to him as long as he can hear you

you’ll be sitting down with the members and he’ll get a tiny bit jealous once you laugh at eunseoks joke a little too hard and he’ll run by, pick you up and run off with you

helps you with your hair whenever you’re struggling with it, as long as you guide him and give him instructions he’ll try his best !!!

I’m sorry but if you ever were irritated or grumpy and accidentally let it slip while with him he’d grab your face and kiss you to shush you 😭

he eats up whenever you’re shy he relishes in it so much he can’t help but want to watch you look away because you can’t keep eye contact

wouldn’t let you be insecure in the slightest you could literally have just woken up lips dry face puffy and he’ll still make you feel so pretty

Sohee:

likes to cuddle with him laying back and you on top of him resting your head in the crook of his neck while he draws patters into your back :(

whenever he tells you goodmorning he always gives you a hug with a good squeeeeze and a quick kiss on your nose or cheek

trust he likes to be babied and spoiled but sometimes he wants to be the gentleman for you too like let him take care of you and nurture you okayyy 💔

sohee’s cute demeanor can make him seem like he’d be shy which could be the case but I can see him being bold or more straightforward when it comes to his affections towards you

like he’ll ask YOU out, he’ll ask if he could kiss you for the first time, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and ask you on a date first

gloats about you to everyone, the members included, as soon as you post yourself on your story he’s quick to say “ugh my gf is so pretty guys look look look” while mushing his phone in their faces

he is soooo sweet and truly so lovely..but sometimes…you will be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse while you’re with him I’m sorry LMFAOO

like if you forgot to text him before you got back home or if you fell asleep forgetting to call him before you did he’d be so quick to text you “I see how it is 🙄”

or he’d avoid kissing you but as soon as you give up trying to kiss him he’d be SO quick to switch up wanting a kiss IMMEDIATELY begging you for one

Anton:

he would most definitely see cute pics of two animals like some ducks or rabbits snuggling together and will text it to you and be like “us”

hugs from behinddd allll the timeeee even if you two are just standing there he’ll hold onto you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

pretends to bite you, especially on your shoulder but if he ever did accidentally actually bite you he’d make it up by putting a small peck wherever he did it

kisses your hand and down your forearm because he just likes to tbsh

has you do the most foolish tiktoks with him and yes you guys will have like 300 drafts and yes he makes you two do like 12 takes 😭😭

particular compliments, will call you gorgeous overall but has moments where he tells you a certain color makes you look radiant or when your hair looks extra good

spoils you to oblivion, you have a wishlist frm your fave clothing brand you say 🤔 BOUGHT, he sees some cute matching couple necklaces..SOLD ! you lost your favorite makeup brushes ? HERES SOME NEW ONES !

whenever he flirts and starts getting bold he’ll fold so quick like he’ll build up his courage to be super straight forward but will literally crumble and be a tad bit embarrassed later especially if you repeat what he said LMFAOO

[inside-lees-mind]

Hello! Small request here~ can you possibly do a Dr,stone headcanon where reader has severely bad memory? They’re memory is so bad to the point they would start to call everyone by fruits, vegetables, plants. You name it. Just so they could remember their faces properly? This has been in my mind for so long..but of course no rush and always take care of urself! <3

Idk if you take emoji anons, but can I be 🌒 or 🪻anon? You can choose which one if both are free!

Hi🪻anon (I picked this one cuz I like flowers and it’s different from the emojis I already have anons for, hope that’s okay) (oh and this request is about plants so it fits!)

I decided to do Senku, Gen, Tsukasa, and Hyoga. (I’m finally writing for Tsukasa, THE WORLD REJOICES)

Senku Ishigami

You called him a Leak.

He’s confused, but then looks in the mirror and… holy shit you’re right.

He’s offended, but like brushes it off.

“Focus” he says, turning you back to your work.

He thinks it’s strange thought when you don’t call him by his name even to others.

Eventually, he realizes you must not remember his name.

He couldn’t care less tbh. Maybe you are bad with names? Thats common enough he really doesn’t dig.

Gen Asagiri

You called him “nightshade”

It’s his favorite flower so he’s not fazed.

Oh, not the mention it means “liar.” And he’s the world’s best.

Eventually, while watching you, he realizes you don’t call him anything but it, so he subtly tests you.

He works to push you towards saying his name, and you really just don’t seem receptive.

Eventually, he’d subtly pry your reasoning out of you when he notices you call everybody plants and vegetables.

He finds out that the amount of different plants in the nightshade family reminds you of his two faced nature and helps you remember him.

He finds it interesting.

Tsukasa Shishio

He was confused when you called him “Rosanne”

Did you think he was a woman…?

From Gen, he finds out that you might be referring to a Rosanne Brown Lisianthus since you call everybody by plant names.

Gen says he doesn’t know the reason and shrugs, shaking his head as he walks away.

You later tell him it looks like a rose and it’s got a beautiful brown color sometimes.

He gets it now… his hair color!

Takes it as a compliment because the flower sounds pretty the way you describe it.

Hyoga Akatsuki

You called him “cauliflower”

He’s confused?

He’s not… a vegetable?

Are you calling him as weak as a mere vegetable? He’s not, so???

Genuinely, he’s confused.

Takes it the wrong way.

Gives you an eye smile and nods, but then straight up walks away from you.

He over hears somebody talking about your odd nicknames for every one and it clicks that you must be remembering him that way. Cauliflower is white… so is his hair. Okay…