#how far can i rise the rising action. that is the question

[appalachianapologies]

Remittent Distress

Chapter Nine: Intractable

Chapter Summary: Everything comes to a heed at Mission City. Mac is living through his worst nightmare. For Dalton, it's a nightmare that he's already had once before. Fic Summary: After years of being on the run and keeping his head down, Mac finally receives the opportunity to end this screwed up game of hide-and-seek for good. With the help of two unlikely friends, some unconventional skill sets, and plenty of all-nighters, Mac attempts to track down his father before James gets to him first. It's been six months since an ordinary mission turned to hell, leaving its permanent marks on Jack Dalton—both physically and emotionally. But when information about a wild kid he came across four months ago gets dropped into his lap, he has to push it all down in order to find not just the kid, but the truth behind him as well.

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[purinfelix]

FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

[wokeupinmars]

The Last Time

Summary: Peter's on the verge of losing you after disappointing you yet again.

masterlist

He didn’t show, the night was over and Peter was nowhere to be found. 

You tried your best to mask your disappointment with a tall face as all the attendees started to trickle out of your college’s art exhibit, a handful of them congratulating and complimenting you on your artwork as they passed you. 

It wasn't until you saw May walking towards you with a sympathetic look on her face that you felt your facade falter, “I’m so sorry darling,” she said as she brought you into a hug squeezing you. 

“It’s fine, May. Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” You give her a sad smile pulling away from her. You take a deep breath, “May…I hate to do this but do you think I could get a raincheck on dinner tonight? I just want to go home.”

There’s a visible look of sadness on her face but she nods, “Of course you can, it’s beautiful by the way,” she says, angling her body to face your painting. 

You mimic her actions, giving your painting a one over, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure about letting them display it when my art professor–she's the director of the exhibit asked. But I’m glad I did, a lot of people seemed to like it.” 

“I can see why!” She exclaims. 

Just as you were about to speak, the voice of your professor cut through all the chatter, “Ladies and gentlemen the art exhibit is now closing! Please make your way to the exit!”

You motion for her to follow you as you head to the doors. “How are you getting home? I could give you a ride,” she questioned. You shake your head, "I don’t think I can be around a Parker right now, at least not without wanting to cry.” 

She frowns upon hearing your words, “Oh.” You push and hold the door open for her, “I know this is an unfair thing to ask of you but can you tell Peter I don’t want to hear from him anymore?” 

May freezes the second she makes it outside, fully processing what you just said, “I’m sure he’s sorry–” She’s trying to save him, you both know she is. “I’m sure he is but I’m not interested in hearing his poor excuse of an apology. He knew how important this was to me and he said he’d be here, but he’s not. There’s only so many times you can let a person disappoint you, May.” Your eyes well with tears as you think back to telling him about being a part of the exhibit and how he added opening night to the calendar on his phone as well as the one that hung in his room, even going as far as drawing a heart around the square.

Cars start to whizz by as the traffic light turns green and you let out a defeated sigh, opening your arms to hug her goodbye, “It’s getting late and I don’t want to miss the train, you should head home too.” This time she hugs you tightly, “Give me a call when you get home, alright?”

You nod your head in response, “Thank you for coming, it means a lot to me. Have a goodnight and drive safe, okay?” Her hold on you gets even tighter, mumbling a goodnight to you before releasing you. 

She stands still and watches you disappear down the street before pulling her phone out, attempting to reach Peter herself and when she's unable to, she leaves him a devastating voicemail, a voicemail he wouldn't hear until thirty minutes later when he was stood in front of ESU’s now dark and empty art center. 

“...She said doesn’t want to hear from you anymore and honestly? I don’t blame her. She watched the door all night for you. All night, Peter, all night! She looked so heartbroken. She was trying her best to hide it but that look on her face, it was soul-crushing. I think this is it for you, ‘there are only so many times you can let a person disappoint you’ those were her exact words. She’s disappointed in you and frankly so am I, I didn’t raise you to act like this. You fucked up big time, there’s no point in sugarcoating it. I adore that girl and I know you do too but you’re losing her…”

Peter could feel the panic rising in his chest as he listened, the thought of losing you made his stomach churn. There's a slight shake in his hand as he presses his phone to his ear, his breath is caught in his throat as he waits for the calls to start ringing, praying you hadn’t blocked him. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when it does but when the rings halt and his phone buzzes with a text message from you, he could feel all the air leave his lungs. 

Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

Peter rushes to text you back; I’m so sorry honey. 

He can see that you read his message but when you don't respond, he sends you another, and another, and another.  

May left me a voicemail 

I know I fucked up 

And that I keep fucking up

But I can fix it 

Can we please talk? 

A spark of hope ignites within him as he watches the three dots appear on the screen but the feeling dwindles once he reads your message; It’s late, I’m tired and I don't want to hear or see you, please just leave me alone.  

Peter goes to respond but another message appears in the chat informing him that you had silenced your notifications. His eyes never leave the screen, reading and rereading all the texts you’d sent him throughout the night, heart getting heavier and heavier with every message. He knows he should just listen and let you be but he goes against your wishes and sends one last message, I love you, I’m sorry.

—————————————

The sound of your phone ringing slices through the noise of the hand mixer you were using and the crinkles of the paper bag your cat was playing with. You glance at the screen, eyes scanning the contact name before turning off the mixer, answering the call, and bringing it up to your ear, “Hello?” 

“Hello sweetheart, how are you feeling today?” Your elderly neighbor’s voice comes through clearly on the other end. A sigh leaves your lips, “Better, better than yesterday at least, I’m trying to keep myself occupied…giving baking a shot.” She hums in response, “Listen dear…I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he’s here.” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean?” 

“That boy of yours. I’ve been watching him, he’s been standing at the door for the past half an hour.” You walk into the living room and over to the window, peeking through the blinds and sure enough there he was standing in front of the door of the duplex with his head hung low. “Do you want me to shoo him away? My grandson left his toy gun here the other day, you know the one with the foam bullets…I’ll take him out for you, sweetheart.” 

Despite being amused by her words, a frown forms on your face, “Stand down, Mrs. Temple. I’ll handle him.” 

“Alright, but if he gives you any trouble just let me know. I’ll give him hell.” Her soft voice now stern, “I know you will, remember how you asked me for his number last night cause you wanted to cuss him out?” You can hear her let out a huff on the other end before exclaiming, “He made you cry! I should go out there and jam my knitting needle through his eye.” 

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll just tell him to leave and everything will be fine. And oh! Before I forget, do you like funfetti cake? I’ll bring it up for you and Mr.Temple a few slices when it's done.” 

“We’d love that!” 

The two of you exchange goodbyes and end the call. You take a second to collect yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the window, “What are you doing here?” 

His head darts up, “Honey,” the sound of his voice catches the attention of your cat, who jumps on the windowsill to see him. He turns his entire body in your direction, digging his hands further into the pockets of his jacket, “Can we talk, please?” 

You shake your head, “I meant what I said, Peter, I don't want to see you. Just go home.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut the window and draw the blinds close. You walk back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder expecting to see your cat following close behind but much to your surprise, he’s waiting by the door. The sight made your heart hurt, “Snaps… I’m sorry buddy but he’s not coming.” 

—————————————

Disaster. 

That’s exactly how you’d describe the state of your kitchen. Your sink was piled high with mixing bowls and baking pans but it was all worth it once you added the final dusting of rainbow sprinkles to the frosted cake. 

“Okay, Snaps, the cake is done, emergency chocolate chip cookies are in the oven. How do we feel about Coming to America tonight?” You ask aloud as you slice into the cake. 

You look up at him perched on the windowsill, head poking around the blinds to watch the rain pour outside.“I’m going to run upstairs, you stay he–” you’re cut off by your ringtone, “Hey Mrs. Temple, I was just about to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“He’s still here, dear.” Her words made you feel uneasy, “He came back?” 

“I’m not sure he ever left….he’s just sitting there.” You rush over to the window, pulling the blinds back, squinting your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him on the stoop. “Oh my god! Can I call you back?” You didn't wait for her reply before ending the call. 

You can feel your chest tighten as you leave your apartment and make the short walk to the building’s entryway. You inhale sharply before opening the door, to reveal Peter scrabbling to his feet. The rain mercilessly beats against his already drenched skin, he looks completely exhausted. “Hi,” his voice comes out as a whisper. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea of how sick you'll get?” You scold him, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him to enter. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out as he follows closely behind into your apartment, you ignore his words and the way Snaps starts to nuzzle against Peter’s leg only to pull away when he feels the cold and wet fabric of Peter’s jeans, “Go warm up in the shower, I’ll bring you a towel and some clothes,” you say walking into your bedroom. 

You search through your drawer for something warm, eventually settling on a pair of flannel pajamas bottoms he’d left at your place for the nights he slept over, the sweatshirt you’d slept in the night before, and a pair of your fuzzy socks he stole from you. 

You use your knuckle to knock on the bathroom door, “Peter? I’m coming in,” you said, turning the handle. “No, wait!” Peter calls out but he’s too late, you’ve already seen it. His suit. 

“What the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you scan the spider symbol on his chest. 

Peter freezes, paralyzed by fear, this was not how you were supposed to find out. “It’s not what it looks like!” he blurts out, voice laced with panic. He watches your shoulder slump back and your eyes well with tears, you’ve never felt worse. 

“Please, don’t cry. I can explain–” the sound of the oven’s timer going off causes you to shift your focus, shoving the towel in his hands. “I laid some clothes out for you,” was all you said before hurrying towards the kitchen. 

—————————————

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of it all. Every moment you spent with Peter replaying over and over again in your head, mentally berating yourself for not piecing everything together sooner. All the cuts and bruises you’ve cleaned and iced, the dates he missed ‘cause he ‘lost track of time’, every question he’d answer vaguely or just flat out avoid, every question you wanted to ask but held your tongue afraid you would come off as pushing or invasive and he’d leave. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing followed by Peter’s faint footsteps and a soft meow causes you to shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the impending conversation to be had. You listened intently as his steps got closer and closer until they stopped right in front of the couch, you had a feeling he was standing over you and your suspicions were confirmed when a droplet of water falling onto your forehead caused you to open your eyes. 

The sight of Peter cradling Snaps like a baby immediately comes into view, “Sorry about that,” he says, shifting your cat to support him with just one arm, and using his now free hand to wipe your forehead. 

“It’s fine,” you mumble, sitting up and scooting over, patting the spot next to you. 

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of you not knowing where to begin, “Thank you for doing this– for letting me in.” Your leg bounces as you try to work up the nerve to finally address the elephant in the room, opening your mouth to speak but shutting it when no words seem to come out until, “So…you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter swallows thickly, “I am.” 

“Oh,” you say nervously fiddling with your fingers, “I guess it makes sense.” 

“It does?”

You shrug your shoulders, “The longer I think about it…yeah. I’ve always assumed that whoever was under the mask was too smart and too courageous for their own good, no one fits that description better than you. And then there's every single injury you’ve ever had ever, no one trips and falls that many times, Pete.” 

He was just about to say something until he hears you, whispering to yourself under your breath, “I can’t believe I dated a superhero.” 

“Dated?” He repeats back your use of past tense only adds to the unsettling feeling in his chest, you were giving up on him and he deserves it. 

You hum in response, “I know May told you what I said– about there only being a certain amount of times you can let someone disappoint you, and you are way past your limit. I think it’s better if we both just accept this is how things were meant to be. Look you can stay tonight but I think it’s best that in the morning all we are is strangers.” Your voice wavers at the end and it makes his heart plummet. 

Tears pool in his eyes, “S-strangers?” 

He shakes his head repeatedly, “No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–”

You furrow your brows at him, “And how exactly was this supposed to go?”

He hangs his head, glancing down at the cat looking back at him, Snaps stretches his paw out to touch his face, “We were supposed to talk it through, I went to the show- I bought flowers, they’re in my bag they're probably ruined now but I have them! I was going to tell you about being Spider-Man but then you weren’t there so I came here.”

“Me knowing about Spider-Man doesn’t really change anything.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“I guess It does-” he picks his head up as the words leave your mouth but it is quick to drop it again when you finish your speaking, “-just not in the way it counts.” 

“Oh,” he can feel his entire body deflate, “What does that mean?” 

 You let out a defeated sigh, “It means I understand why you were always running late or missing dates completely, and why you’ve shown up here sometimes looking as good as dead.” 

“But…?” 

“But it changes nothing about us, our relationship has never been a priority–”

He’s quick to cut you off, “That’s not true.” 

“But it is, Peter. You’ve had a million chances to prove otherwise and you haven’t. I love you-”

“I love you too.”

“-but I can’t keep doing this, I don’t have it in me anymore,” you wipe away the tears that start to roll down your cheeks. “You just aren’t reliable, Peter.”

“What if I could be reliable? Give you stability?” 

“Peter we’ve already been down this road before–” 

“It’s different this time,” he insists, “I haven’t been able to balance being me and being Spider-Man, I’ve lost so much because being Spider-Man has completely dictated my life and I was fine with it because all heroes have to make sacrifices but none of it is worth it if it means I lose you too.” 

Snaps wiggles out of Peter’s arms and onto the floor, giving Peter the chance to grab ahold of your hands, “I can be both and also give you stability, you deserve better and I’ll do everything I can to be better. I don’t want to lose you, Honey, I don’t. Please, let me show that I can be reliable–that our relationship is a priority.” 

Your silence is deafening, you do your best to avoid Peter’s pleading eyes as you weigh options,

“Parker, I swear to fucking god you better pray your lucky number is a million and one because this is the last time I’m ever doing this with you.”

He perks up immediately, eyes glistening as he processes what you said. His mouth opens but you start to speak before he’s able to get a word out, “If we’re doing this then there's a few rules I’d like to set and they’re all non-negotiable.” 

“Lay it on me.”

“Date night. Twice a month, no expectations. I don’t care if we go out or stay in, I just want a couple of nights off with my boyfriend. You flake, you’re out. Got it? ”

“Got it.”

“Wait, that made me feel like a bitch, to clarify that doesn’t apply to serious situations. I’m not going to stop you from helping or anything like that, I just want two nights out of the month reserved specifically for us.”

“I knew what you meant,” Peter reassures. 

“Could you call or text me when you get home after you’re done with Spider-Man stuff? I’d like to know you’re safe.” 

“Consider it done. Can I add a rule of my own?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Can you leave one of the windows in the bedroom unlocked for me? Since you know now I figured I could come over right after patrol and skip the whole ‘changing in an alley somewhere’ part.” 

“I can do that.” 

You stand up and start walking to the kitchen, “This isn’t a rule, it's a favor but could you run this up to Mrs.Temple? And before you ask, yes you can have some.” 

Peter trails behind you, eyes sparkling when he finally sees the baked goods on your countertop. “God, I love you,” he says, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek.

—————————————

Peter’s knuckles knocked against the door, he could hear shuffling around the room before the door opened revealing Mrs. Temple with a big smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh it’s you,” she says, her smile faltering. 

He holds out the plastic cake dish for her to take, “Uh yeah, Y/n’s asked me to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“Mmmhm…I heard what happened,” she eyed him up and down, “and by the looks of you being here, I assume my sweet girl forgave your ass?” 

Peter nods, “She did–” 

“We’ll I’m glad things worked out,” she steps closer, poking him in the chest with her finger, “But if you ever make my baby cry again, it will be the last thing you ever do.” She takes the dish from his hand, her next words were lower than a whisper, “I know a guy.” 

“Well, you and Y/n have a goodnight, tell her I’ll give her a call in the morning,” she adds before retreating back into her apartment.

“I don't think I’ve ever been more terrified of an elderly woman than I was just now,” were the first words to leave his mouth the second he returned to your apartment. 

“Oh god, did she threaten to shoot you?” 

His eyes bulged out of his head, “She has a gun?” 

You wave his question off, “No it's just a Nerf gun.”

His mouth forms into an ‘O’, “so the implication that she could put out a hit on me was a bluff?” 

“No, she really does know a guy, he’s nice.” 

—————————————

Extra:

Your head rested against Peter’s chest, the soft thumping of his heart mixed with his hand rubbing your back made your eyelids feel heavier. 

“Pete?” 

He grunted in response. 

“Why didn’t you go home? When I told you earlier?” 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

You pretend to gag at his statement, “That was too cheesy, even for you.” 

“It’s not cheesy, it's the truth and it’s endearing.” 

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they are insanely obsessed with you

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ yandere!bsd men! dazai , fyodor , chuuya

It started small, almost imperceptible. The people who once filled your life—the casual friends, the familiar faces—began to drift away. A canceled plan here, an unanswered text there. At first, you brushed it off as coincidence, the natural ebb and flow of relationships. But then, one by one, the spaces in your life grew emptier, and the only constant that remained was him.

Dazai’s touch in your life was invisible to you but deliberate to him, every thread meticulously pulled to tighten the cocoon he was weaving around you. He told himself it was for love—for your protection. He convinced himself that each person he removed, each tie he severed, was another weight lifted from your fragile existence.

This man made it so easy, so seamless. A quiet word to Kunikida about how overworked you seemed lately, how you needed less responsibility and more time to rest. A subtle comment to Atsushi about giving you space because “too many people leaning on her might overwhelm her.” Even Yosano found herself discouraged from dragging you into her office for her usual banter, all because Dazai planted doubts in her mind about your health, your fragility.

When he intercepted the letter from an old friend of yours, he told himself it was love, tucking it into his desk drawer instead of giving it to you. He told himself it was love when he manipulated missions so that you were always with him, never with anyone else, where he could watch over you, shield you.

Every step he took, every string he pulled, was justified in his mind. “The world is cruel,” he would tell himself, pacing the confines of his apartment, his hands trembling with the intensity of his convictions. “But I can keep her safe. I can keep her happy. Isn’t that love?”

And when doubts crept in—when the hollow echo of your laughter, now rarer and more subdued, made him pause—he buried them deep. You needed him. You might not see it yet, but you did. The thought reassured him, soothed him, even as he sat alone in the dark, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his chest.

Of course, he never questioned the morality of it since morality had never been part of his equation. The lines between right and wrong blurred the moment he decided he couldn’t lose you, couldn’t bear the thought of anyone or anything stealing you away.

Every time he looked at you, he reassured himself while his gaze lingered far too long, drinking in the sight of you like a man drowning. He told himself it was love when he watched you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your breath calming the storm in his chest, it was love when he saw the way you smiled at him, even if that smile didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. It must have been.

Still, there were moments—fleeting, fragile moments—when his mask cracked. Late at night, as he sat in his chair with a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, he would wonder if this was love or obsession. He would remember Oda’s words, that love should be selfless, freeing, not this suffocating, consuming thing. But then he would think of you in the arms of someone else, laughing with someone else, and the thought alone was enough to make his blood turn cold. “It’s love,” he would whisper to himself, his voice hollow, his fingers curling tightly around the glass. “It has to be.”

„You are sick,” you whispered when you finally confronted him, the room drawing shadows heavier than the ones in his soul, though the words lacked the venom you intended. “This isn’t love. It’s control. It’s—it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and heartbreak, as though the very notion pained him. “Tell me, does the bird hate its cage when it keeps it from predators? Does it curse the one who feeds it, protects it, cherishes it?”

Like a pang of doubt that rippled through your resolve, the analogy struck something deep within you. He stepped closer still, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m doing this for you,” he said, and there was something almost mournful in his tone, as though he regretted your inability to see things his way. “You’re too precious to be left at the mercy of the world. I won’t let it destroy you. I won’t let anyone destroy you. Even if it means you hate me for it.”

Although you wanted to fight back, to scream, to push him away, the weight of his words pressed against you, leaving you vulnerable and unsure. He had always been good with words—too good—and now they tangled in your mind like webs, trapping you in the complexity of his logic.

Yet the longer you stood there, the more the fight drained out of you. Maybe it was the exhaustion of always doubting, always questioning. Or maybe it was the quiet, insidious truth that a part of you didn’t want to leave him. He had taken so much from you, but he had also filled the void in ways you couldn’t explain, couldn’t deny.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and what you saw there wasn’t triumph—it was devotion. Twisted, unrelenting, suffocating devotion.

“I love you,” he said simply, and the words felt like both a confession and a death sentence.

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

Sad, almost wistful, he smiled as though he had anticipated your answer. “You will,” he said. “In time, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly cares for you. And when you do, I’ll be here. Always.”

And though every fiber of your being told you to run, you stayed. Because the truth was, as terrifying as his love was, the thought of being without it scared you even more.

Deeply so, this break had shattered something inside Chuuya. It wasn’t just the loss of a partner, a comrade—no, it was something deeper, more primal. The day Dazai left was the day the world tilted, the day his mind fractured in ways even he couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t just about losing Dazai—it was about the fear of losing someone else, losing anyone else. That gnawing, desperate hunger to keep you close, to shield you from everything, to keep you from slipping through his fingers like Dazai had.

Naturally, he did what he had to do.

Once a space of normality, your room, was now a carefully constructed fortress. The curtains were always drawn, a soft, dim light casting everything in a sickly shade. He would stand outside your door for hours, listening for any sound, any sign that you were still there, still within his grasp. He had the ability to make his presence felt even when he wasn’t physically near you—his shadow stretching across your life, always lurking. Always watching.

When you woke in the mornings, he was there. When you went to sleep at night, he was still there, seated in the corner of your room, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze never leaving you.

The mafia executive wasn’t cruel. No, not at first. His charm, his words, they were as sweet as they were deadly. “I’m only doing this for us,” he would say, his voice warm, almost affectionate. He’d smile, but it never reached his eyes. “No one will hurt you. Not like they hurt me.”

He’d coax you into talking, into laughing, into behaving. His hands were gentle at first, trailing across your skin, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were, how precious you were, how lucky he was to have you all to himself. But every compliment, every touch, had an underlying current of control, an unspoken warning that you could never escape.

The world outside was no longer yours to navigate. No, Chuuya had made sure of that. You rarely left his quarters now—only when he deemed it necessary. Even then, he would accompany you, his eyes always watching. His influence reached deep into the Mafia, cutting off connections before they even had a chance to form. If you met with someone outside of his approval, they were gone. If anyone, anyone, even thought of stepping too close to you, they found themselves dealt with in ways you never saw coming.

With you no longer being free to come and go as you pleased, your missions were reduced, controlled, and carefully managed. No one would dare take you away from him. They knew what would happen if they did. Chuuya had made his message clear—you were his.

And yet, when you complied, when you didn’t resist, when you behaved, he was charming, attentive, a lover in every sense of the word. He’d lavish you with gifts, with praise, with everything you wanted and needed, until you almost forgot the trap that had closed around you. The sweetness of his attention almost made you believe that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the way things were meant to be. That maybe the way he looked at you—like a rare, priceless gem—was the way love was supposed to feel.

Yet when you didn’t behave—when you pushed, even slightly, when you questioned him or tried to leave—that’s when the change came. The door would slam shut behind you, his smile would vanish and he charming words would turn into cold, clipped sentences.

“Don’t make me remind you who’s in charge here.” His voice would be low, but there was no kindness left in it. Only an edge, sharp and unforgiving. When you would try to retreat, to hide from him, he would follow you—always.

“I’m not letting you leave,” he’d whisper in the dark, his breath warm against your neck, a cruel contrast to the steel in his tone. “Not again. I can’t lose you too.”

And then, there was that shift—like something snapping—in the way he moved, in the way he held you. He would pull you to him with such force that it almost hurt, his hands trembling, but only in that moment, when he feared losing you. His kisses would be hungry, demanding, as if trying to make up for everything he had already lost. His hands would grip your arms, your wrists, too tightly, as if afraid that you might disappear right in front of him.

“You’ll never leave me,” he would say, as much a promise as a threat. “I can’t lose you like I lost him. You understand that, don’t you?”

And in those moments, you could see it—the desperation behind his eyes. The way his usual smug demeanor broke down into something raw, something fragile. His need for control was no longer subtle—it was desperate, suffocating. Every time you tried to move away, to regain the smallest piece of freedom, he would pull you closer, until your world was nothing but him.

“Please,” you whispered once, “Chuuya, this isn’t love. It’s obsession.”

An empty smile formed on his lips. “Isn’t it the same thing, in the end? You and me… I can’t let you go. Not again. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. No one can take you from me, not ever again.”

And when you didn’t respond, when the hopelessness in your eyes spoke louder than words, he would close the distance, his hands gentle again—though his eyes remained cold, unyielding.

The charm was back, for now. But the coldness, the possessiveness, lingered beneath the surface, always. Because Chuuya had seen what happened when you slipped away from him before, and he would never make that mistake again.

You were his now, and he was never going to let you forget it.

It began so slowly, you didn’t notice at first. People started to slip from your life, fading like mist, until one day, you looked around and realized the room felt quieter than it ever had before. Your friends, the ones who had once made you laugh, once filled your life with noise and warmth, were no longer around. Their texts became less frequent, the calls abandoned, the invitations to dinner or even simple catch-ups slowly turning into hollow echoes of what they once were.

At first, you reasoned with yourself. People get busy. Life shifts. Maybe they just didn’t need you anymore, just as you had begun to doubt the sincerity of some relationships in your own life. But as time passed, you began to notice one constant that remained, like a shadow that stretched across your world—Fyodor Dostoevsky: The man who was always there, always watching, always waiting. The more others drifted away, the closer he became, until it felt almost like a necessity. He would always ask how you were, but the words felt laced with something more, as if he already knew, already understood. Perhaps that’s why, despite the growing isolation, you didn’t push him away. Because, in truth, he was the only one who seemed to see you, the only one who seemed to understand what you were feeling, even when you didn’t know yourself.

Yet when the silence grew louder, the empty spaces between texts grew wider, Fyodor’s presence was a gentle murmur, his soft gaze reassuring in its subtle way. He didn’t say much, but he was always there, sitting across from you, those dark eyes watching, studying you like a puzzle he had already solved. His proximity became an anchor, even if you weren’t sure why you needed it.

“You are the only one who understands me,” you’d hear him whisper sometimes, his voice so soft it felt like an incantation, a fragile truth you never quite dared to speak.

While you told yourself that you understood, too, you saw his world, too. You recognized his loneliness. His isolation. His need to control everything, to manipulate the chaos that surrounded him, to shape reality the way he wanted. You understood because, in some twisted way, his isolation mirrored yours. You, too, had been abandoned by those who once mattered. You, too, had felt the creeping emptiness, the quiet desolation that threatened to swallow you whole.

But what did it mean when Fyodor told you, “You are the only one who understands me”? Was it love? Was it genuine, or just another manipulation, another carefully spun thread designed to pull you deeper into his world, a world that you felt, over time, was slowly becoming your own?

He never had to make grand declarations. He really didn’t need to. His quiet, constant presence was enough. Each time you looked at him, you could see the way he measured every moment, every glance, the way he waited for you to take the first step. He made you feel special, in a way that was both intoxicating and suffocating. When he touched you—just a brush of his fingers against yours, a fleeting, lingering gaze—you didn’t pull away. How could you? You wanted to be close to him. But the closer you got, the more you wondered if this was how it was always meant to be: your life, your entire existence, distilled into this quiet, almost oppressive bond between the two of you.

Though few, his words were always chosen with care. “The world is a cruel place,” he would murmur, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he leaned in closer, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But I would never abandon you like the others have. I know you better than they ever could.” His smile was slight, almost imperceptible, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart skip.

As you stopped questioning him, the isolation, the growing distance from everyone else, felt inevitable, like the natural progression of your life. With each subtle shift, you found that the empty spaces filled with him, and his smile, cold and calculated, became all you had. When your phone rang now, it was always Fyodor. When someone else tried to reach out, you would hesitate, knowing it was only him who could make you feel understood, make you feel like you mattered.

And yet, there were nights—long, lonely nights—when you would wonder. You would sit in the dim light of your apartment, staring at the reflection in the window, and ask yourself if this was really what you wanted.

But those doubts never lasted long. Fyodor was always there, always beside you, his presence so unyielding that even when you wanted to scream, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t.

“You don’t need them,” he would say, his voice soft as he stood behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Not when you have me.”

There was comfort in those words. There was safety. Protection. And the longer you stayed, the more the world outside seemed distant, irrelevant. No one else could give you this, no one else could fill the silence like he could.

“You’re the only one who truly understands me,” he repeated one night, his words low, heavy, as his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you into him. There was something cold in the way he said it, but it wasn’t unkind. It wasn’t harsh.

Wanting to argue, wanting to tell him that he was wrong, that this wasn’t how love worked, you hesitated because, in that moment, you realized with a terrible clarity that you, too, didn’t know what love was anymore. All you knew was him. All you knew was this dark, quiet world he had created, a world where you were his and no one else’s.

Deep down, unraveling in that place you didn’t want to acknowledge, you understood. He was right. No one else understood you the way he did. No one else saw the loneliness in you, the one that he so carefully nurtured. You were his. And he was yours.

There was no escape anymore. Only him. Only his presence.

And so, with a quiet surrender, you accepted it. Because, after all, you told yourself, he was the only one who understood you.

hello a/n i went partially insane with chuuyas part … hehe ??

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au !!, touya dyed his hair like once, scratching but not shigi level lol, touya has a motorcycle cus he's cool like that..pls don't ask it's just cool. asshat endeavor, big bro touya on top !! and maybe slightly ooc but he already is since hes big bro touya lol, uber touchy bubbly reader, hurt/comfort, lmk if i missed sum else !

on the first day at your new school, you immediately notice shouto. mostly because he's the only one in your class with different coloured eyes. you don't get much time to dwell on him, because you still have to introduce yourself to your classmates.

when break rolls around you're alone. it's not like this was new to you, but you're interested in the one other boy who's alone too. the boy from earlier with the different coloured hair and eyes. you can't help but wonder who his favourite hero is. that's always something people want to talk about. would it be all might ? he's always everyone's favourite. his favourite colour would probably be blue..or maybe green ?

you have to find out, so you march up to where he's sitting alone by the swings.

"hi !" you chirp, offering him your widest smile. he doesn't smile back, seeming a little startled. woops, maybe you were a little too loud. his eyes look even cooler up close.

"i'm yn !" you say, just a little bit quieter this time. he keeps observing you, recovering from his earlier surprise. "i know, i heard. in class." he responds, you blink at him.

"i didn't think you were listening. you were lookin' out the window and stuff, so.." he keeps inspecting you, he's quieter than you are for sure. he decides to simply not respond to you, continuing to slowly rock back and forth on the swing. suddenly, you get an idea for a new topic.

"say, do you know how to swing on your own ?" you bounce over to the swing next to him. his eyes follow you and they widen thinking of your question. slowly, he shakes his head. you beam, a lightbulb rises above your head. " i know how !" you boast, slightly proud to see his eyebrows raise.

the dual haired boy blinks "i didn't know you could do that." he says it a little airily, like it was truly unbelievable to him. you feel your chest burn a bit, you grip onto the bars of the swings and kick your feet.

"then how come you're sitting on the swings alone ?"

he thinks, then shrugs as a response. you don't mind, taking this as your cue to act. you pull yourself backwards as far as you can looking to see if the boy with the cool eyes follows your movements. he does, so you continue until you’re far enough and lift your feet off the ground, jumping onto your seat. kicking your legs forwards and back to gain momentum, you giggle at the air wooshing past your skin.

"you do it like this, see ?" you speak a bit louder, since you're swinging higher and higher. you briefly see him nod and then he's copying your previous actions. he gets the hang of it in a few seconds but he's still a little lower than you, so you drag your legs against the floor, that way you're going at the same speed. "see, it's super easy !" he looks at you again, but you think you see the lightest of smiles on his face.

"yeah." he responds simply, but his voice is just a bit louder so he's sure you hear him. and it makes you smile harder. after a bit of swinging you ask him his name, "shouto" he says. you can't help but think it sounds cool, so you tell him so. he looks a little confused, but he nods in thanks anyway.

you drag your sneakers against the floor to stop and launch off of your seat. you land almost perfectly, stumbling a little towards the end, but you quickly recover. shouto, the boy with the cool different coloured eyes and hair looks intrigued as he slows down too, but prefers to stay seated. you hop over to his swing, gripping onto the bars right above his hands and grin at him. shouto looks surprised, you want to see him smile again like before, except wider.

"hey, shouto. who's your favourite hero ?"

before you, shouto's never had any friends. so he's never had to feel what it was like to be ignored by one.

you're the first person who'd ever asked him who his favourite hero was, and he'd told you his was all might. he still doesn't know why you laughed about it, everyone likes all might.

you talking to him your first day of school made him realise how different you both were. you were way more outgoing than he was on his first day, but even then he never bothered to talk to his classmates. he'd been okay with that, but shouto doesn't like the idea that most likely, if you hadn't talked to him, if you hadn't taught him how to swing by himself, he never would've talked to you. because he wants to talk to you all the time, even if you don't want to talk to him.

after break and your argument, you return to class. you're sitting next to him in class due to assigned seating. you'd been happy about it at first, because now you were desk buddies and he could help you with problems you didn't understand. but now it's like you're practically sitting in the next class over. you act like he doesn't exist, it feels like you've pushed your chair the furthest possible from him. shouto can tell you're having trouble with some problems the teacher gave you, and you're supposed to work with your desk buddies for these, but you keep tucking your arm over your notebook and glaring at him. it feels like when the sun is beaming in his eyes, he doesn't like it.

you don't wait for him anymore when the bell rings. you don't stomp your feet excitedly and grip his hand to walk out of the gates with him, you don't tell him you'll see him tomorrow. you just shove your pencil case and your notebook and you trudge off away from him even as is hangs out of your bag. shouto realizes it then, that he's being ignored. and when he does, he's finished packing his bag neatly, not like usual when he's rushing just a bit because you're waiting and he wants to hold your hand. he takes his time. and when he does he can't move for a while. it doesn't feel normal not being with you. he's only snapped out of it when his teacher asks him if there's a problem. he shakes his head, and walks out of class dragging his feet a bit.

natsu-nii came to pick him up today. shouto stays quiet when he asks him how school went. his older brother offers him his hand, but he doesn't take it, he only wants to hold yours. they walk home in silence while shouto grips his bag.

getting ignored sucks.

"knock, knock."

shouto looks up to see his older brother touya, standing in the doorway of his room. the boy visibly brightens up, focus on him homework now gone. he doesn't smile visibly, but it looks like his eyes smile in a weird way only shouto’s could. and just because it's him, touya thinks it's a little sweet.

"hi." the boy's voice is a bit quieter than it usually would be, it makes the worry in the older's chest grow. he tries not to look too suspicious, tired eyes gazing around the room. "mind if i come in ?" he asks, to which his younger brother responds with a shake of his head.

touya settles down in front of his younger brother, sitting cross legged and resting his face in his palm. shouto hadn't talked about what had upset him when he got back home from school. blazer still neatly tucked in, hair still the same as when he was sent off. touya finds it ironic that that was alarming. shouto had walked off to his room looking gloomy, not saying a word to anyone and not coming to eat dinner even after he was told it would be his favourite. even their father found it strange, opting to leave him alone for once.

touya guessed it probably had something to do with him getting pulled out of school though. he holds back a scoff, of course the old bastard told him.

"hey.." he leans in a bit closer to his brother and talks in a hushed voice, looking around the room to sell the act. shouto tilts his head in confusion, his eyes slowly widen when his brother pulls out tiny fruit candies from his pocket, the oldest smirks "look what i got."

still a bit weary, shouto whispers as well to answer "i'm not supposed to..father said that.." he trails off, pouting to himself.

"what that old fart doesn’t know won't hurt him right ?" he taunts, nudging the treats in his hands towards the little boy. shouto smiles at the nickname used for his father, and finally takes one of the candies, popping one in his mouth as his brother does the same.

"how was school ?" touya asks after a minute, shouto visibly slumps, drawing little shapes on his homework sheet. touya's eyebrows furrow. "no good ?" wordlessly, shouto shakes his head.

"i know i'm not going anymore." the white haired boy sighs, shoulders slouching as his hunch was proven correct. "i heard you and the nanny talk about it."

"oh shit, you did ?"

"swear." shouto dodges, touya can't hide the roll of his eyes. "yeah, sorry, sorry.. you heard me ?"

the boy nods, "did yn get sad when you told her ?" at that, he frowns, bangs in his face but touya clearly sees his little lower lip wobble.

"yn said she wanted to get married. and i said okay, but then i said i didn't wanna anymore..and she got mad at me."

"oh yeah ?" he nods again, the movements of his pencil against his work sheet stop. he speaks so sadly, in a way touya has never heard his brother speak besides when he'd come to him crying at night and when their mother was taken away.

"she said she hates me."

touya feels his heart break. shouto's always been his weird little brother ever since he was born. he was ten years old when shouto had popped out and honestly back then he was weird too. he was pudgy and loud, and he always had this weird little look on his face, fuyumi would tell him that he was just copying the look touya would give him. but that was stupid, he didn’t look that ugly.

but then his weirdo little brother started crawling over to him, started toddling his little feet in touya's direction constantly the moment he managed to drag himself up on his two feet. pudgy little hands reaching out for him even as he pushed him away. and then he'd fall straight on his face and instead of crying he'd just..try again. reaching for his older brother with his big weird two coloured eyes and drooley mouth. touya knew he'd get in trouble if his brother fell over again and he ended up with a mark on his big forehead.

so begrudgingly, he let his brother cling onto him. and he keeps doing it at eleven, and thirteen because he'd get in trouble for pushing his little brother around. but as he reached fifteen, sixteen and seventeen, he could admit that he kind of liked being the favourite. the one his youngest brother always ran up to quicker and quicker the better he learned to walk. he liked being the oldest that his youngest brother could rely on to let him cling to.

he likes being touya-nii, the coolest older brother in the world in the drawing shouto had given him once. it was crude, he doesn't look like that at all. and he definitely didn't tear up when he'd gotten it. but he still has it in his desk drawer.

"i'm sure she doesn't mean that, shou.." he tries, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "'m sure she was just mad. you know how people get when they're mad."

"but yn isn't like that. she doesn't get mad, she's always happy. and she wasn't, 'cus of me. 'cus i lied." shouto's voice breaking breaks touya into a million pieces. "c'mon," he coaxes, opening his arms up for his brother to jump in, which he does, like he always has.

shouto's never had friends, or bullies that touya's known of, besides that no name brat that yn had beat up for him from what he'd heard (he laughed very hard when shouto had told him the news, you were sick as shit). he's never had to deal with this before, it must hit him just that much harder to have to lose a friend. for something he didn't even do or have a choice in. it makes touya's blood boil. touya the coolest brother in the world wouldn't have let this, wouldn't have let his fathers bullshit happen to his youngest brother who doesn't know any better like he once did. until he did, and then it was too late.

he was ruined, but shouto isn't.

"do you still wanna be friends with yn ?" shouto stiffens, but nods into his brother's chest. he blinks away little tears when touya pulls at his shoulders so their eyes could meet.

"do you wanna tell her that ?" shouto's eyes widen. he nods hesitantly, but his eyes drift towards the floor. "but she's ignoring me, i don't like it." he mumbles. touya squeezes at his youngest brother's shoulders to get him to look at him again, putting on his best smirk.

"don't worry about it, yeah ? touya-nii'll do somethin' about it." he answers easily. shouto's eyes brighten, and he hugs the older boy tightly, who hugs him right back. touya likes being the oldest when it's this, not when he has to take the blame for stupid shit, not when he has to set the example for his younger siblings. but when his siblings rely on him, when they trust him to make everything right, and he's big bro touya who gets shit done.

shouto doesn't know what to do now that he's not going to school. it’s been two days now he doesn't know why he bothered with his work sheet since he knew he wasn't going back, just routine he guessed.

lunch break should've passed by now, class would be out soon. he wonders how you're doing today. maybe you're still sad, or maybe you've already made some new friends. his teachers were supposed to be let known a day ago that he wasn't coming back as his father told him so this morning, so you must know by now. he wonders if you're happy about it, and that just makes him sad, so he tries not to. he tries not to think about it but all he wants is to see you.

maybe you're worried about him, or maybe you're hanging out on the swings with someone else already. asking them their favourite ice cream flavour and they're not weird like him, so they'll actually be able to give you one and not answer "i don't have ice cream enough to know." like he did. you'll ask them their favourite colour, and they won't think about it as long as him, they won't shrug like he did. they'll smile back at you and be able to match you and they'd be the one to hold your hand, not him.

shouto doesn't hate much. in fact, he can't think of anything he hates more than this.

training is tiring, but it was a bit more bearable because you'd tell him you'd see him tomorrow and he couldn't wait. but now he won't be seeing you again. and you hate him.

he itches at his scar, his father told him not to and his nanny said it would irritate it more. but he can't help it. because if he doesn't he feels like he'll cry. but that's not working either because he feels like crying anyway and his breathing grows heavier. he wishes he could see you and say sorry for lying. he wishes his mom we're here and he could say sorry for scaring her. he wishes he could cuss at his dad the way touya does, he wishes he didn't scare him so much.

the sliding of his door pulls him out of his gloomy thoughts. touya runs a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh, sliding the door shut behind him. one time when he was sixteen, touya had dyed his hair completely black. his mom had made a big deal about it, his father was more than displeased, natsuo found it really funny and fuyumi scolded him, telling him people might mistake him for some type of delinquent. "or even worse, a criminal !" shouto didn't see what the problem was, he thought it looked really cool. but he'd changed it back to white soon after. "i just felt like it at the time." is what he says every time.

"hey, you okay ?" he breathes, kneeling in front of his younger brother shouto nods. his eyebrows furrow as he brings a hand up to his face “stop itching at that.” he chides, pulling shouto’s hand away from his face before he continues.

"hey, today's a school day, yeah ? and yn's at school ?" shouto tilts his head in confusion, but nods. touya smirks. grabbing onto his brother's arm and pulling him towards the door where he tells him to put on his shoes. shouto obeys, but when he’s told to hop on the back of touya's motorcycle, he finally asks where they're going. his older brother sends him a lopsided grin, and drops his too big helmet onto his head roughly, tightning it and clipping it shut.

"we're goin' to school." he answers easily.

apparently, you’re going to the beach in two weeks.

last night during dinner, that’s what your parents had announced since you get a little break from school. you’d been ecstatic about it at first, you love going to the beach. except when it’s too hot, because the sand burns under your feet. but most of the time it’s fun even if seagulls are a little scary, and maybe you’ll even get to pet someone’s dog.

but now, you’re sitting in class and you realize. shouto didn’t come to school today. again.

but you don’t care.

you thought he was just late yesterday, that usually happened when his oldest brother touya (the super cool one) had to drop him off, but then first period passed, then lunch and then school had ended and he still wasn’t here.

you don’t care, though. you really don’t. but you’re desk feels so empty without someone sitting next to you so it’s awkward. and usually, shouto helps you with math problems you don’t get, but he wasn’t there during math. and you had no one to sit with at lunch, or on the swings either.

and you don’t care, but you feel a little bad about telling him you hated him.

shouto lied to you. that means he’s a liar and you hate liars, that was true. but you don’t hate shouto. you don’t think you can. you’re convinced you hate tanaka for what he did to shouto despite your parents telling you that hate is a strong word and you shouldn’t casually say it. but you do.

shouto made you angry just like tanaka did, and you hate tanaka. but you still don’t hate shouto. because shouto’s your first ever real friend. and you want to say sorry for saying you hate him. it’s lonely without him holding your hand, on the swings, or sitting next to you.

there’s a pit in your stomach and you feel like crying, you wish you could go to the beach with shouto. you don’t know if he’d like to swim much. he seems more like he’d like to make sand castles.

you really want to know.

when he comes back, you’ll say sorry for sure.

later that day, your teacher pulls you aside to tell you shouto won’t be coming to school anymore.

"i'm taking shouto to school tomorrow."

eyes identical to his settled on touya. endeavor remains silent as he briefly glances at his son.

“i keep telling you to knock before barging in.” he says coldly, fixing his gaze back on his paperwork.

“and i keep telling you i don’t give a damn.” touya says just as coldly, “we’re going tomorrow, and you’re going to let us without making a fuss.” he bargains, gaze fixed on his father’s back. he sees his fist clench and holds back a smirk, it’s always fun seeing the old man get mad.

“who do you think you are giving me orders ?” the older man grits out, voice still even “you’re in no place to bargain with me, especially not after i got a call from your school about your behavior again. touya scoffs, he never lets the school shit go does he ? it’s not like he really cares, simply trying to hold something over to boy’s head.

“ ‘m saying this for you, pops.” touya shrugs “you might not realize it, but shouto really wants to go to school. kid even made a friend.” endeavor scoffs harshly at his sounds words.

“so what ? he can easily make more.”

touya’s eyebrows furrow. he grits his teeth “no he can’t. kid’s a major weirdo. this is his first ever friend.” he feels his fists clenching despite telling himself he’ll keep calm, “he managed to make a friend who’s just as weird as him, and he’s really depressed about it. i doubt he’ll want to do any training right now.”

“he will.” his father answers smoothly.

“nah, he won’t.” touya answers just as smoothly, or he tries to. he’s sure his father can pick up on the anger in his voice because he sighs.

“it’s already been done, i’ve already warned the school about it.”

“so just tell them you changed your mind. what’re they gonna do about it ? you’re the number two aren’t you ?” touya tries not to sound too smug about the slight taunt. a sore spot that his father hated to be reminded of was that he was always a close second. in a way, just like he is.

“look, you can do whatever you want. but..” he pauses, his father looks back at him slightly. he keeps his eyes locked on his “shouto likes going to school. pretty sure it’s the highlight of his day, which in itself is fucking weird. but he’s just like that. he’s always been like that.” he chuckles humorlessly. “but he’s met someone he can be as weird as he wants to be with for the first time ever, and i don’t think he’ll take it very well if you just take that from him. might even impact his training..” he trails off, finishing with a shrug “but that’s just my theory.”

endeavor keeps his gaze and touya thinks this plan might be a bust. looks like his father really was a stone cold asshole. but he sighs gruffly, touya looks surprised as he grips at his temples and huffs out “i’ll do something about it. close the door behind you.” shooing him away with his hand, no more words leave his mouth. touya doesn’t say anything else either as he leaves. he wonders if he should leave the door just a smidge open to piss his father off, but he decides not to risk it for now. another time.

but for now, touya-nii managed to do something, and he smirks to himself.

shouto doesn’t really know what he’ll say to you. he’s worried you still hate him, because he’d been told that hate was a strong word and you shouldn’t say it thoughtlessly. he’s sure he hates tanaka, because he’d punched you that one time you fought for him. but he worries that you feel for him the same way you do for tanaka.

he wonders if his words can come out as smoothly as the main leads in the movies when they try to make up with their love interest towards the end of the movie, if he can woo you and make you want to marry him again and say you don’t hate him. he doesn’t have time to think anymore because touya’s bike slows to a stop, not in front of a red light. because he sees the shape of his school, he gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

“you see her anywhere ?” touya grunts pulling him off his bike. shouto always thought it looked really cool, but it was really loud and it hurt his ears sometimes when touya would rev it on purpose to annoy fuyumi. shouto scans the area, classes should be done by now. shouto knows sometimes your bag takes a bit of time to close properly, so he thinks maybe you’re taking a little longer. he shakes his head. he feels touya ruffle his hair, probably to reassure him. or to fix it after being under a helmet for so long. he hopes his hair doesn’t look too messy in front of you.

more people start leaving, and the more he sees of his classmates the more he worries. he sees some students pointing towards him, and he knows it’s probably because of his older brother’s huge bike. but it feels like they’re talking about him, about how you hate him. he doesn’t like it. he feels his older brother’s hands still in his hair. and he feels a bit better because he’s here.

“oh, isn’t there her right there ?” shouto’s eyes widen. and he sees you walk a but further from him. you’re kicking at some rocks under your feet and there’s a pout on your lips. you’re not smiling and shouto finds it extremely hard to call out to you. his lips just won’t move. then you’re eyes are wide as your eyes land on him, because his older brother calls out for you instead. shouto freezes as you march over, he thinks maybe you’ll push him again. but you just stand in front of him, eyes still wide.

“i thought you weren’t coming anymore.” it’s weird to hear you speak to him, your voice yelling at him hasn’t left his mind. he grips his hands together as his gaze locks onto the floor. he hears touya say that there’s been some changes done, changes that he knows nothing about but he nods anyway.

shouto doesn’t have a big speech planned. he doesn’t even know if he can look at you right now, but he thinks as long as he just says what he thinks, he can hope you'll understand.

“are you still mad at me..?”

you stay quiet for a bit “a little bit..” you admit. you don’t sound angry, shouto clenches his fists. he dares peek at you.

“..do you still hate me ?” shouto bites his lip, awaiting your answer. he sees you toeing at your shoe.

“..no,” shouto looks up at you then, wide eyed. this time you’re the one who won’t meet his gaze. “i lied..i was angry..that makes me a liar too then.” shouto gets closer to you after a pause. you blink at him, his eyes look even prettier now that you’re seeing them up close again, one surrounded by red. he shakes his head furiously.

“you’re not a liar..i lied first..” he trails off. shouto doesn’t have a big speech ready. he can’t woo you like the cool guys in movies can. but he can tell you what he thinks, because you’ll understand.

“ do you still wanna get married ? i lied when i said i didn’t want to, ‘m sorry..” he looks up at you then, a determined flicker in his eyes that stuns you, his eyes shine like this.

“i’ll ask you this time, if you want to. you won't have to ask me everything all the time. i’ll ask you again when we’re grown ups until you say yes.” you’re stunned. you don’t think you ever heard him say so many words in a row. usually you ask him questions and he usually responds, shortly. but he does anyway. you were happy with that, you were happy to ask and with him listening. it made you happy because he listened to you.

but shouto wants to marry you, and he wants to be the one to ask you. you’d been so proud of yourself for not crying throughout the day, but you feel tears cloud your eyes. you smack your hands against your face to hide them. shouto jumps, asking you if you’re okay.

“‘m sorry, shou ! i called you a liar an-an’ i said i hated you, but i didn’t mean it” you mumble, voice wobbly “c-cus you’re my best friend !”

“you’re my best friend too..” slowly, you feel him wrap his arms around you. usually, you’re always the one hugging shouto first, especially at his left side because it’s warmer. he says he doesn’t like it but he let’s you hold him anyway and when it’s colder you’re always standing on his left before you can realize it. he’s warm like this and you missed him, so you squeeze him back with all your might. he stumbles a bit but doesn’t let you go.

“i don’t like when you’re sad.” he says simply, pulling a way so he could smooch your cheeks together in his palms. it makes you laugh hard and smile bright, like the sun but not when it’s in his eyes. when it’s beaming softly against his skin and it feels nice. he smiles back at you softly and shouto’s sure he wants to be with you forever. even if natsu-nii had joked that he was too young to know he’d get married to you when he’d told him, shouto knows he’s wrong for sure. and he reaches for your hand. it feels normal again, shouto's sure it'll always feel like this as long as he's with you. normal and fitting perfectly just like your hand in his.

you cling to him and bounce on the balls of your feet like your argument had never happened, touya sees you talking his brother’s ear off about what he’d missed at school, that his classmate had gotten in trouble for fighting and that you had a test due next week. all he can think about is how…easy that was. sure, you’re both still kids. but..really ? he shrugs it off, maybe it was just a weirdo thing.

you ask shouto if he wants to go to the beach with you, shouto hesitates and before he can say anything, touya speaks “sure he can.” he says simply. you squeal, swinging shouto’s arms around and telling him about all the fun the beach is, touya personally doesn’t like it much. too hot.

shouto blinks up at him, and the older boy sends him a wink. touya thinks he’s never seen his little brother smile so wide about anything before. he can admit it's pretty sweet, it makes him smile just slightly too.

as they ride home, shouto rambles about what you’d told him at every stop light, touya hums and offers him a few “oh yeah ?”s and “that so ?”s even though he was literally there the entire time and heard everything. but he’s pretty sure his little brother had completely tuned him out with his sole focus being you.

what a total weirdo, how can you just completely tune out someone standing right behind you ? so weird. but touya can’t help but smile to himself as he rambles about his day at the beach two weeks from now. his weirdo little brother could tune others out all he wants, but he’s sure he’ll never tune you out. cus you’re just as weird as each other and touya’s sure he’ll be just fine.

[targaryen-dynasty]

EVENING DELIGHTS.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, kitchen sex, choking, teasing, slight praise kink, slight breeding kink, modern au

WORDS: 1.7 K

NOTES: based on this request. Thank you so much, @chattylurker!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The melody you hum is barely audible to anyone but you as you cut through the red bell pepper, preparing thin slices. It’s a bit of a daunting task with how much wine you’ve drunk prior, and you’d love to swap places with Aemond instead. He’s lounging on the sofa, a sleepy Vhagar nestled up against him with her head in his lap, watching a show about cars being tuned and raced against each other. 

It appears he’s just as tipsy as you are, a slight stagger in his steps as he rises from his seat coaxed by your soft melody, and makes his way over to you. A lazy smile is draped over his chiseled lips, staring you down like a hunter does its prey. 

You act unfazed at that because he could have come to help you sooner, but you still bite your bottom lip as he leans the weight of his body against your back. His scent immediately fills your nostrils, just as intoxicating as the warmth emanating from him. 

“What’s cooking?” he drawls, bringing his hands to your waist. 

You chuckle at his approach, and cut another piece of the bell pepper. “Just making some oven roasted vegetables.”

Aemond hums, and proceeds to rub his hands over your sides. His nose drags against the side of your face, inhaling your scent and making it impossible for you to focus on the task at hand. 

Bringing a slice of bell pepper up to his lips for him to eat, you hope to distract him just a bit so you can finish the slicing. “Did you know your brother proposed to Floris today?” you ask, chuckling as you hear the content chewing right next to your ear. “Hel called today while you were at work and told me.” 

Swallowing, he quickly grabs another piece before you can swat his hand away, and stuffs it into his mouth. “He did?” he mumbles around the vegetables he’s been chewing, licking his lips and grinning. One of his hands leaves your waist and trails down to wrap around your thigh. 

“My big brother finally got down on one knee, huh?” he says amusedly, squeezing your thigh. “And what did she say?”

You slightly push your hips back against him, and shoot him a warning glance as his hand travels lower. “Of course she said yes,” you reply. “I called her immediately. And apparently, they plan to get married in Highgarden.”

The glare makes him chuckle, and his hand moves back up to wrap around your waist instead, using both to pull your lower body against him, your hips pressed together now. “Highgarden? That’s cute.”

Both his arms band around your body now, and you fully abandon the cutting board the moment one hand comes up to cup your breast. Your breathing turns heavier at his actions, although you try to act unfazed again to continue cutting the rest of the vegetables. There’s a bit of a silence between you, and, while Aemond gently squeezes your breast, he seems to be deep in thought. 

“So… Do you actually like me?” he asks, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot right behind your ear. 

His question makes you roll your eyes, and prompts you to look at him from over your shoulder. “We have been together for seven years, Aemond. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”

The grip on your waist and breast tightens but is far from being uncomfortable, just enough to keep you standing where you are, tightly pressed against him. As he feels your hips push back against him again, he smirks and presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

His voice is much more breathy and husky when he speaks again, “good point.” A quick, sloppy kiss finds the spot beneath your ear, allowing him to nibble on your earlobe in the following. 

You giggle softly at that, and try to stop your body from reacting to his proximity. You feel his hot breath against your neck and his warm body completely enveloping yours. It makes your stomach churn, in a good way. You’re still tipsy, feeling yourself relax into him more and more. “You’re distracting me, Aem.”

He lets his hand slide down your body, one finding your ass to grope it and the other coming to rest just shy above your mound of venus. Kissing your neck again, his breath comes out even warmer than before. “You are so distracted by a little kiss?”

Snorting, you’re not able to deny it, especially because you’re so distracted by his touches. You want to shove him away to finish the cooking, but also want to hug him to keep him even closer. With your breathing growing labored, your body reacts to yours being pressed against each other like that. 

Warmth spreads in the pit of your belly, and you can’t help but moan as his fingers trail a little bit lower. “Shut up…” you try to keep your composure, wanting your voice to remain tough, but to no avail. There’s a tremble audible in it. 

Aemond clearly knows how much he turns you on, and can’t resist the urge to tease you. He chuckles, and proceeds to cup your clothed pussy. A little smirk spreads across his lips, his grip not wavering once. “Make me,” he whispers. 

The heat inside of you builds up faster the longer you stay in that position. You thought you could hold it back, but at this point it’s just impossible. You’re tipsy, the alcohol just makes it worse. He has you right where he wants you, and you know that. Your cheeks are hot, and your body trembles under his hands. 

You push the cutting board and vegetables aside to clear the countertop in front of you, and Aemond takes that as his cue to flat on the counter. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease today,” you gulped, the words accompanied by a gasp as he yanks down your leggings and thong. 

Scrambling for hold, you plant your palms flatly on the surface, supporting yourself as you feel the tip of his cock prod against your entrance. You’ve been wet enough to make it easy for him to push inside in one, swift thrust, filling you right to the brim. 

There’s no need for him to give you time to adjust to his size, having had him in the morning already. The pace he sets up isn’t as reckless as his usual pounding, given the position and his legs being slightly bent at the knees. 

His cock drives deeper and deeper, coaxing moans and whines to tumble over your lips, and where the cutting of bell peppers could’ve been heard before, it’s now replaced by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your moans. 

“So sensitive,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself.

His hand comes up to clasp around your throat. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking. His lips press to the side of your face again, and, apart from his heavy breathing fanning over your hot skin, you also hear him mumbling praises. 

Heat builds in your belly as his balls slap against your sensitive bud, sending shivers up your spine and you straight into a frenzy. 

“Who needs dinner when I can have this perfect pussy?” he rambles, speaking more to himself than you. 

Aemond digs his fingers into your hip and pulls you back against him with each thrust, meeting his cock halfway. 

“Gods, I… I–”

“You’re gonna cum for me already, baby?” he rasps into your ear. 

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his heavy balls slapping against your clit, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release washes over you suddenly. 

Your walls flutter and spasm around him, arousal leaking from around his thick girth and soaking his gray sweatpants. Grinding back against him, you ride out your high in rhythm with his thrusts as he fucks you through it. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the countertop, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

“That’s, fuck, that’s it, mhh,” he hums, the relief in his voice audible.  

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He pounds it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

Only as both your aftershocks slowly subside does he move, pressing a trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder. His hand slides from your hip underneath your shirt, pulling it up slightly to cup your breast. 

With a low whisper, he sighs. “Can’t wait to marry you.” He kisses your shoulder once more before moving his lips up to your ear, and he can’t help but grind his hips against yours, his cock growing flaccid again. You mewl at that, pushing back against him. “And I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

At his words, your body feels hot all over. The thought of him getting you pregnant makes your knees buckle, and you feel like you’ll explode at any given moment. 

Your head tips back against his shoulder, and you breathe in quickly before replying, your voice trembling and husky. “Neither can I.”

Hands letting go of the counter, you push him back enough to get him to pull out of you, allowing you to turn around to face him. Your hands move to the seam of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Marveling at his alabaster skin, and the slight imprint of his muscles, following them with your index finger, you look up at him through batted eyelashes. “I’m gonna stop taking the pill soon.”

That seems to stir something in him, and before you can say something else, he grabs your body to throw you over his shoulder. The fit of giggles that erupts dies as soon as you hear his words and note the direction in which he’s walking, immediately replaced by anticipation and excitement. 

“I wonder how soon I can get you pregnant.” 

General Taglist: @belladonnasorcerer @valeskafics @connorsui @arcielee @watercolorskyy @black-dread @darylandbethfanforever9 @croatianprincess @snowystark @moonlightfoxx @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fan-goddess @at-a-rax-ia @tsujifreya @nothingqueens @ashovertheriver @bbgmonsay @doublesparrows @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @multyfangirl @dixie-elocin @zaldritzosrose @userhotd @delulumhaggy @wolfdressedinlace

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel

[judeswhore]

you’re so golden

summary: jude deserves a personal congratulations after such a big achievement

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (m) unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is not my best work but i really wanted to post something for u all :(

"what're you-?"

"shush." mouth pressing softly over jude's you cut off his unnecessary question, fingers deftly pulling at his belt to work it open. the clink of the metal sent a thrill through you, had the hairs rising on the back of your neck and left you feeling even hotter beneath the skintight material of your dress. you gave one firm tug and it slipped from around his waist, fell to the carpet with a dull thud, left behind at the door as you pushed your boyfriend a little further into the hotel room.

a little further being only a few steps until his back hit the hallway wall, a soft "oof" filtering from his lips at the surprise contact. a giggle followed, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and tilt your mouth closer to his, lips slotting perfectly together and you shuddered when he licked at your bottom lip. the action made your hands tremble a little, fingers slipping where you tried to unbutton his trousers and work at his zip.

"baby," jude huffed another laugh, broken quickly by a whimper because your hand was suddenly inside of his trousers, fingertips ghosting over his already half hard cock. "slow down." your answer was a petulant pout, brows creasing together and a whine released itself from your throat.

you didn't want to slow down. you'd been thinking about getting on your knees for him since he'd started getting ready hours before. you'd been patient throughout the ceremony and little bit of the after event, faked smiles and niceties only because of the cameras and his parents when the whole time, all you were thinking about was pressing him so far down your throat his shape would be imprinted there forever. you'd been slow but now your patience had all but disappeared and what was the point of being alone in your hotel room if you couldn't congratulate your boyfriend the way you wanted?

"don't look at me like that." jude half chastised, thumb brushing lightly over your jutted out bottom lip and he drew in an unsteady breath when you sucked the digit into your mouth. his gaze darkened, hips pushing subtly against the palm you'd flattened over his cock. his gaze stayed locked on your lips, wrapped delicately around his thumb as you suckled softly, moaned low in the back of your throat so he knew just how badly you were aching for this. "we've got all night y'know?"

with a wet pop you let his thumb go, squeezed lightly at his cock and felt pride spark deep in your tummy when he hissed. "but i want it now." to your own ears you sounded whiney and desperate but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, already letting your mind wander to the feel of him on your tongue. "please, jude, wanna taste you."

your boyfriend's head fell back against the wall with a heavy thud, a groan vibrating from deep in his chest, one you felt tickle against your lips when you pressed them to his throat and mumbled another string of pleas.

"fuck. yeah, yeah okay, baby. get on your knees f'me." a giddy smile spread over your lips and immediately you dropped to your knees in front of him, head tilted back a little as you held his gaze and waited for him. the backs of his fingers grazed your cheek before he cupped your jaw. "y'gonna show me how bad you want it?" you could only nod and jude was smirking, tapping softly at your cheek in a way that made your entire body burn. "good girl."

you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and boxers and tugged lightly, pulled them down just enough to let his cock spring free, your eyes immediately locking on it. your hand looked stupidly small when you wrapped your fingers around the base and shuffled in closer, breath fanning warm over the tip and jude's thighs tensed in response. the tip of your tongue swept teasingly over the head of his cock, tasted the pre cum that was already dribbling over the soft skin and gave a happy little hum at finally being exactly where you wanted to be.

jude watched with lowered lashes as your throat worked and you spat messily over him, started to work your hand up and down the heavy length of him while you sucked softly at his tip. your free hand snaked beneath his shirt, up over his abs before your nails raked back down the skin and he gave a quiet whimper, pressed his hand against the back of your head for a bit of stability. for a few moments he let you focus on the tip, tongue swirling over it before you smattered wet kisses along the vein that ran down the side.

"m'so proud of you, baby." you muttered the words against his skin and they came out muffled but still made jude grin, his thumb rubbing soft over your jaw. you watched him through your lashes, a smile tipping your lips before you rubbed them messily over his dick, found yourself at the tip again. "y'looked so hot. the whole time you were on that stage all i could think about was pulling that stupid suit off you."

"yeah?" jude huffed a soft laugh and you watched his chest heave when you rubbed your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"mhm, made me so wet, been thinking about your cock all night." with those words you finally relaxed your jaw and slid half of his cock into your mouth, hollowed your cheeks and sucked softly before dragging back off him, repeating the motion at a slow pace. you kept your eyes locked on his, head bobbing a little deeper each time with hopes of taking everything he had to offer.

"jesus, you're fuckin' perfect y'know that?" he brushed his thumb beneath your eye before his hand travelled to the back of your head, palm urging you a little further on to his dick. the tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, jude's soft moan making you ache. "there you go, look so pretty on my dick, babe."

you gave a little whine at that, elated at the praise no matter how small and tried to take him deeper, stopping only when your nose was pressed snugly into the hair at the base of his cock. having him so far down your throat was making you dizzy, jaw aching and you couldn't stop your spluttered gag but still you didn't pull back, only nuzzled in a little bit more as jude swore above you. his palm pressed harder against the back of your head to keep you in place, his hips shifting forward as though to push deeper despite the fact he couldn't go any further.

glancing up at him again the dull throb of your clit only intensified, wetness pooling in your underwear as your mind spun. he looked unfairly gorgeous, head tipped back a little, eyes half closed and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, marks from your lipstick littering his throat. he'd unbuttoned his shirt at some point since you'd dropped to the floor before him and it hung open at his sides, chest and abs on full display, so pretty you just had to run your hands over him again. your nails dug lightly into his skin and you raked them down the ladder of hair that often drove you crazy. jude used his grip on the back of your head to guide your mouth up and down his cock, tongue lolling softly against the underside, swirling around the tip when he let you take a few seconds pause.

"look at you," he cooed softly, the hand that wasn't pushing at your head stroking gently over your cheek before he gave it another light slap, muscles flexing when he felt your throat tighten around him. you were blinking rapidly at him, tears leaking from your eyes and mixing with the spit that was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, a garbled whimper sounding from you when he snapped his hips forward again. "could fuck your pretty little mouth all night."

you'd be more than happy to let him do that but the lack of attention to your clit was becoming painful, the dull ache of being so empty making it a little difficult to think. when jude's hand slackened slightly on the back of your head you took it as your chance to pull off him, lips still pressed to the tip in a light kiss even as you spoke.

"can you-" you drew in a breath, a half gasp after having had him fucking your throat for the last few minutes before you met his gaze through your lashes again. "want you to fuck me, please." your desperate begging was jude's undoing, his cock twitching against your tongue as he gave a quick nod of his head, hands reaching for yours to help you up from the floor.

within moments he had you pinned to the wall where he'd been leaning, your hands pressed firmly against it as he settled himself behind you, fingers working to bunch your dress up over your hips. you were both too needy to properly undress or make the few step journey to the bed so jude simply settled for hooking your underwear to the side, shoulders rolling so he could shrug his shirt off. with one hand grasping firmly at your hip, he wrapped the other around his cock and guided it between your thighs, pushed the tip through your folds to bump teasingly against your clit.

"fuck, y’got this wet just from having my cock in your mouth?”

"told you, i’ve been thinking about you all night." you let out a hicuppy little whine, hips shifting impatiently as jude continued the slow back and forth rocking of his own hips, cock nudging at your clit until your hand flew behind you and you grabbed at his wrist. your nails bit into his skin. "jude."

"shh, s'okay, i've got you." the blunt head of his cock pushed against your dripping hole, a soft moan vibrating in your ear as jude's head settled just over your shoulder and then he was pressing completely into you. your moan was loud when his hips met your ass, pussy stretching around the thick length of him and it was impossible not to tighten even more around him.

jude let out a breathy moan when he buried his cock into you, one that fanned directly against your ear and made your tummy flip with desire. he didn’t pull out immediately, only trailed a line of wet kisses along you jaw till his lips met the shell of your ear.

“is this what you were thinking about? me fucking you stupid like this?” with those words he drew his hips back until only the tip of his cock was pressed between your walls, before pushing forward again. the force of the thrust almost knocked the air from your lungs, had you letting out a startled squeak as you nodded frantically.

“thought-oh- thought about just fucking you in the bathroom. y’looked so hot in your suit and then you won and you looked even hotter.” you mumbled softly, forehead dropping to rest against the wall as jude found a steady rhythm. the quick drag and pull of his cock inside of you was your favourite feeling in the world, the dull ache as he stretched you out something you wanted to feel forever. you were sure you were already making a mess, pussy so wet it was easy for him to fuck into you but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, too caught up in how good you felt.

your boyfriend clicked his tongue quietly and without even looking you knew there was a half smirk tugging at his lips. “dirty girl.”

silence fell between you after that, you too consumed by pleasure to focus on forming any coherent sentences and it left only your moans and quiet whimpers to fill the hotel room. the slick sound of his cock filling you up quickly grew louder too and made your head spin slightly, turned you on even more and it was ridiculous how worked up this man could get you. the feeling of his lips on your neck were making it even harder for you to concentrate and you let your mind go completely blank, content with letting him take full control.

he fucked you quickly, rough thrusts that had your legs shaking within minutes, his fingers digging so harshly into your hips you were certain he was going to leave bruises behind. the soft sounds of his moans were muffled because jude was yet to part his mouth from your neck, teeth biting and scraping across soft skin before he soothed the ache with his tongue, the action only repeating when he found a new spot. you tried to press yourself further back against him, a silent plea for him to fuck you a little deeper and in response he pulled your hips back slightly, pressed his palm against your lower back to bend you over a little more.

it had his cock sliding further into you on each rock of his hips, the tip finally nudging that one spot that made your eyes roll back, a quick sob tumbling from your lips. “there it is. s’that good, baby?” he spoke softly into you ear, angled his hips a little better so he could hit that spot fully each time, determined to wring an earth shattering orgasm from you. “doing so well f’me, wish you could see how pretty your pussy looks squeezing my cock.”

“can’t-fuck-wanna cum, jude. need it so bad, please. want-“ you cut yourself off with a moan because jude’s fingers had left your hip and found home on your clit instead. he rubbed gentle circles over the little bud, your wetness making the action messy and your knees almost gave out, pussy clenching tight around him. he gave a low whimper, pace faltering just a little and it was nice to know he was just as wrecked as you.

“you want what? tell me and i’ll give it to you.” his fingers picked up their pace, the quick attention on your clit matching his harsh thrusts and you knew within moments you’d be coming around him. “c’mon, pretty girl, tell me.”

“want you to cum inside me.” the words tumbled out of you, rushed and through another whine and they had jude’s cock twitching inside of you, his hips delivering a much harder thrust as he blew out a curse. the two of you had only recently ditched condoms, wanting rid of the final barrier in search of even more intimacy but despite that, jude had still pulled out each time, painting your tits or face all nice and pretty for him. but tonight was special and you wanted to congratulate his win in your own way, in the way you knew he’d been wanting for a while.

“yeah? y’want me to fill you up nice and good? y’gonna take it all f’me? hm? make me proud?” jude’s voice sounded just a little whiney and you knew you’d ruined him with those words, had pushed him dangerously close to his own orgasm. you were proven right when he used his free hand to cup your jaw and tilt your head so he could kiss you over your shoulder, lips slotting messily together due to the awkward angle. “cum on my cock and i’ll give it to you.”

with that he let you go, pressed his hand against the wall just above your head and used the slight leverage to start fucking you a little harder. his fingers stayed on your clit, rubbing over it until your slick walls squeezed around his cock, so tight you were surprised he could even pull back out. you’d gone a little dizzy, throat aching from your constant moans and whimpers and your ass had started to bruise from the force of jude’s hips against it. the tip of his cock kept up the non stop abuse against the sweet spot inside of you and with a quick pinch to your clit you were coming.

“oh my god.” turning your head you sunk your teeth into jude’s bicep, bit down hard to muffle your cries because the last thing you wanted was the people next door hearing and you were being unusually loud. it made jude groan and he fucked his cock into you a little harder, revelled in the way your pussy gushed around him, your cum making a mess of both of your thighs. your entire body was shaking, legs wobbling so much jude had to let up on your clit in favour of wrapping an around your waist to hold you in place.

“that’s it, good girl. feel so fucking good, baby. keep squeezing me like that, m’gonna cum f’you.” you could hear jude babbling further words of praise behind you but your mind wasn’t focusing, too wrapped up in the pleasure still wracking your body, lingering hot and heavy at the base of your spine. the noises jude was making only seemed to prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm, his moans and soft whimpers making your clit ache even more despite how sensitive you knew you were and you were certain tonight wasn’t going to be a one round kind of night.

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before his hips stilled, pressed flush to your ass as he came, painted your insides and filled you up so much it was already leaking from you. his forehead thudded heavily against your shoulder, quiet whimpers filling the space around you as his cock pulsed, the flutter of your pussy dragging a wrecked groan from deep in his chest. he shifted his hips a little and you whined, purposefully clenched around him because you didn’t want him pulling out.

“jesus christ,” he let out a breathless laugh, tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and let his forehead rest heavy against your temple. “that was..”

“congratulations, golden boy.” you couldn’t help but grin, that flutter of pride blooming in your chest again and you wanted to spill every thought in your head about how incredible he was. before you could do that though jude was running his palm over your hip, pulling his cock slowly from the snug warmth of your pussy. before his cum could drip down your thigh he tugged your underwear back into place and gave a soft, teasing pat to your ass.

“that was by far my biggest win tonight.” his grin was cheesy and just bordering on cocky when he turned you to face him, fingers helping to fix your dress. it was a pointless act because he was planning on peeling it off you in the next few minutes, his cock already kicking up at the thought of burying himself back into your cunt, filling you with cum until you couldn’t take anymore.

“don’t let anyone hear you saying that, they might take the trophy off you for under appreciation.” you teased, eyes roaming his bare chest, gaze lingering a little on the mark your teeth had left behind on his bicep. he looked gorgeous, sweaty and a little fucked out, glowing either from the trophy or the orgasm and you didn’t really mind which as long as the look remained.

“they can have the trophy, i told you, i already got my best win.” he dipped to kiss you, soft and slow at first but heating up by the second, his tongue a little desperate when he licked into your mouth. you were right about going for more than one round because jude was already toying with the hem of your dress again. “the shower in here is really big. i’m talking sauna size. how about we get you out of that pretty dress and you let me get you cleaned up?”

the glint in his eyes suggested he had absolutely no intentions of actually cleaning you up but you’d seen the shower and the little ledge just big enough for you to perch on and you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t been thinking of getting jude on his knees for you since early that morning. a sly smile curved your lips and you trailed your nail down the centre of his chest, grazed along the ladder of hair and watched his eyes fall shut for a second.

“s’pose it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“exactly. it’d be impolite.” that had you giggling and jude’s smile only grew bigger, his hands firm on your waist to guide you further into the hotel room. your legs wobbled just slightly and heat settled in your cheeks, feeling flustered over the fact jude had already managed to fuck you so good it’d left you weak in the knees. you hoped he hadn’t noticed but the second his head dipped and he nuzzled his nose against your cheek you knew he hadn’t missed it.

“careful, bambi,” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the warmth of your cheek. “i’m supposed to be the one on my knees this time.”

[lovelettersforthedamned]

PETER TAKING CARE OF DRUNK!READER PLS

You’re Drunk, And He’s In Love

--genre + trope: FLUFF, sfw.

--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x college!gn!reader

--word count: 0.9k

--warnings: mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, reader throws up (womp womp), the smallest angst ever (still wondering if angst is even in this...), FLUFF, peter loves reader so much!!!

A loud thump shocks Peter out of his relaxed state, the sound coming from downstairs. Knowing that no one is home, he makes his way out of his room. Ascending the stairs, he’s silent, waiting to see if he can hear the noise again. Hearing nothing, he twists the lock and pulls the fraternity’s front door open. 

A quick glance outside proves that there is nothing, but then he looks down. There you are, lying across the doorstep, a drunken smile written all across your face. Looking up through your eyelashes your eyes light up at the sight of your boyfriend, “Hi, Petey!”

He squats down to grasp under your arms. Pulling you up, he wonders where all this sudden dead weight came from. Once you’re standing (more like leaning), he finally greets you, “Hey, bug. What are you doing here?”

“I was at this party over there,” you point behind you, “and then…I realized that I’d be having way more fun with you, so…I walked over, and now I’m here!”

Throughout your rambling he closed the door behind you, starting to make his way up the stairs with you by his side. Following your last sentence, he stops dead in his tracks, “Wait, how far did you walk?”

“Uhh, I-I’m not sure…but, I made it,” your memory is spotty. If you were sober, you could’ve heard how Peter’s question was more serious than you realized. Oblivious, it passes over your head.  

He decides to let it go, choosing to focus on your current state, “C’mon let’s go to bed, bug.” Wobbly nodding your head, you follow Peter’s lead up the stairs and to his room. 

Falling back onto the familiar sheets of his bed, you mentally declare that this is heaven on earth. You bask in the feeling, even in your hazy state, you know for a fact that you want to stay here forever if you could. Your bliss is interrupted by a very cold cloth on your face. Apparently, your confusion is quite apparent in your features, as a breathy chuckle escapes Peter’s lips. 

“If I didn’t do this you would be so pissed at me in the morning. You don’t need to be angry and have a hangover,” Peter is quickly pleading his case as you open your eyes to see him bunch up a, now dirty, makeup wipe in his hands. Tossing it in the trash, he stands and makes his way to his dresser, rummaging through an extensive collection of shirts. When he finally finds one, he tosses it on the bed next to you, walking back to you shortly after to stand between your legs that have been hanging off the bed. 

He extends his hands towards you, even going so far as to wiggle his fingers, hoping that his actions will convince you to sit up, “Do you want to stay in your clothes, or do you want to actually get comfortable?”

You groan as you lift your arms up to grab his hands. As soon as you make contact with his touch, he wastes no time in pulling you up to meet his chest. Still holding your hands, he kneels down to start undoing your shoes. Now that you’re sitting up, the spins hit you, and they hit you hard. 

Peter has been looking down, working at your shoes when he feels a hand slap down on his shoulder. He looks up immediately, his face plagued with concern, “You alright, baby?” Your other hand rises to hold your mouth as you shake your head, and that is all Peter needs to rush you to his bathroom. 

The sight is far from pretty, but Peter doesn’t care. He’s holding your hair up with one hand as his other is making slow circles on your back, letting you spill tonight's contents into the toilet bowl. 

You haven’t been there for a long time. The feeling of nausea passes after a good five minutes. Originally Peter was just going to get you changed and bring you to bed, but now he knows that you need a hot shower to wash off the feeling of being sick from your mind and your body. 

He reaches over to flush the toilet before carefully lowering the toilet seat cover and pulling you off your knees to sit on the ceramic, brushing the tears that escaped your eyes off your warm cheeks, “Let’s get you in the shower, my love.”

Everything Peter does, he does it with care. Especially when it came to you. 

While in the shower with you, he knows that in the morning you’ll be extremely apologetic and embarrassed. But what he also knows is that he’d do that one hundred times again just to know that you’re safe. He can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t come to him tonight. It honestly scares the shit out of him at the thought of you being this vulnerable at a party, alone. 

He knows that you can handle yourself, there’s no doubt about it. He can see you brushing off your feelings just for the sake of not ruining the party. 

He almost prides himself in the thought of you feeling this comfortable around him, because there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you. So when you wake up and ask him to grab an Advil for your killer headache, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. 

--author's note: honestly, i love a good drunk!reader or drunk!peter fic. there's nothing like caring for someone despite their drunkenness. i keep writing everyone to be slightly sassy...LMAO. WHOOPSIE!!! thank you for liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my asks/inbox is opennnn, so send in requests if you feel like it babes. ok, bye ily<33

[pinkmirth]

❤︎ ⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𝒞𝐻ℰ𝑅𝑅𝒴-𝒫𝐼𝒞𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢!

𝒮𝑌𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 ⨾ a little looksie into the castlevania men and their particular preferences . . . aka, the unavoidable “ass or tits” question!

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 800+ words of . . . ) multi!castlevania men x fem!reader (black coded); adrian ‘alucard’ tepes, trevor belmont, richter belmont, isaac laforeze, hector forgemaster, count olrox, mizrak, & vlad ‘dracula’ tepes; missionary, doggy, mutual masturbation, thigh-fucking, bdsm (spanking), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸ℛ! ⨾ yes, i am being trivial and shallow because it’s fun & that’s a good enough reason! inspired by this post here; i just had to whip up something for our favorite wallachian men >.< please enjoy, and thanks for reading! 🎀

𝒜𝐿𝑈𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒟!

it’s far too obvious, i think; but he loves. him. some. boobies! adrian’s a tits man through and through, even if he’s got too much decorum to admit it. his actions say it all, though— he loves to lick them, knead them, tease your nipples with his teeth, rest his head between them, gently cup either one whenever he’s embracing you from behind . . . he’ll even motorboat them if he’s feeling naughtier than usual. now, that’s all out of pure habit. intimately, though? slotting his twitchy cock between your boobs is surely his favorite; and then there’s those times when he’s got you laid upon your back while he's situated between your spread legs, fucking into you from above. his cold palms lie at your waist, grip going tight whenever you squeeze around his pulsing dick, and his golden eyes are glued to your breasts like it’s all they’re good for. the way they bounce and jiggle with his pace is nothing short of mesmerizing. coming all over them in the end will make him lose his fucking head. whether it’s an unaddressed mommy kink or otherwise, he just can’t get enough of you (and the girls!) let him suck your titties and his entire day is made.

𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒱𝑂𝑅!

ass. completely, absolutely, undeniably, ass. he’ll smack it, eat it, grope it, anything. trevor pinches your butt whenever he wants a rise out of you, just to see how much you’ll blow up at him. (so what he finds it cute, sue him!) and, smacks at it whenever you’re feeding him an attitude. if he starts grabbing at it with rough palms, you already know what he wants; to fuck your shit up. unexpectedly, doggy’s the first position he’ll think to fold you into once you reach that bed. trevor curves over your arched frame, grinning at the ripple of your asscheeks against his pelvis. he’ll spit pure fucking venom into your ear while you take him. seals it off with coating your plump, pretty ass with his seed. the happiest man alive, he now is.

𝑅𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒯𝐸𝑅!

both! there are men out there who simply can’t bring themselves to choose, because both are far too precious; and richie’s one of them. how could you even expect him to pick? both parts of you are so soft, round, and feminine . . . if you allow him to get his hands on either, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. this belmont’s skilled with his hands, might i add; his breast massages make you slump into him whine for more, and spankings don’t even feel like a punishment with him. as long as he can kiss down your body, mark the canvas of your flesh, and caress anything you’ve got in a pair of two, rich’s all yours.

𝐼𝒮𝒜𝒜𝒞!

thighs! it isn’t exactly a given option, but then again, this man isn't like the others. he loves the fullness of them, how warm to the touch they are whenever he rests a hand at your lap, and finds them to be the greatest pillow the entire world could offer. you stroking at his smooth scalp while he nudges his face into your thighs is his idea of paradise. speaking of, this man is king of thigh-fucking!!!! slots his cock in between the warmth of your inner thighs, urges you to keep them closed tight, and makes a mess of them by the time he’s done. his cum releases in streams, and spurts out to drip down your lap. but don’t worry, his tongue’s already out; as a gentleman, isaac always makes sure to clean up his messes.

𝐻𝐸𝒞𝒯𝒪ℛ!

tits! they’re perfectly squishy, which helps considering that he’s got loads of stress to rid himself of. one-finger less isn’t stopping him from giving the girls their much deserved attention! he’s slipping under your bra, brushing past your nipples, and kneading the mounds like he’s got nothing better to do. you know what’s his favorite thing to do with you and the girls? having you on your back with him kneeling above you, desperately tugging at his cock right before your face. you bring a hand down to swipe at your clit and match his pace; god, he swears you’re drooling. you suckle at his tip, and it’s enough stimulation to bring him to his peak. he’s then cumming all over your chest, some reaching your spit-streaked lips. has he ever mentioned how beautiful you look this way?

𝐵𝒪𝒩𝒰𝒮!

dracula simply adores thighs! a man of culture, this one is. as for olrox, he loves him some (man) titties. a nice, broad and firm chest is enough to put a smile on his face and a tent in his pants. then there’s mizrak, the ass-lover. grabbing it is his favorite past-time >.<

© 𝒫𝐼𝒩𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! 𝜗𝜚

[slxtarchive]

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … you had accompanied dylan to one of his concerts and you didn't really enjoy what you witnessed.

✮ … “that was one of the best concerts we’ve done so far, don’t you think?” dylan questioned as he changed into a new pair of shorts after his shower.

you rolled your eyes. probably because every girl there was eye fucking you. you thought to yourself. “mm, could’ve been better.” you shrugged, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a compliment escaping your mouth.

you had to admit the concert was mind-blowing. you loved seeing dylan up on stage, his hot and sweaty body turned you on more than anything, what didn’t though was when you noticed how the crowd was the same as you; turned on and needy.

the words left your mouth, dylan automatically knew something was up. you were always his #1 supporter no matter what so he knew when you had said that, something had to be off.

“how so?” he was combing through his wet hair waiting for you to respond. it purposely took you a while to respond but when you did it was a very sassy remark.

“i don’t know, maybe less eye sex with the crowd?” you picked at your nails. your comment brought a tiny smile to dylan’s face. dylan loved when you got jealous of how the crowd loved him. the way your jaw clenched as you commented about the crowd.

he laughed under his breath. “oh so you were jealous? is that it?” he turned to look at you, his eyes burning into you.

you felt as if you shrunk where you stood. “n-no!” you stuttered immediately defensive. you avoided eye contact trying to look at anything else. “why would i be jealous? just saying, that’s probably why you thought it was your best performance.

he clicked his tongue. “not necessarily, i was more focused on how well we genuinely performed. i don’t know.. you seem jealous though, baby.” he teased, wanting to get a rise out of you.

you finally looked at his face and his beautiful eyes. “doesn’t matter.” you muttered, still bitter. the scene that replayed in your head when dylan was singing directly in front of a group of girls, as they all pawed at his shirt pulling him closer. one girl even grabbed his hair and caressed it; just like how you would. “they can have you.”

of course, you weren’t serious, he knew that. you had always been a brat about these kinda of things and dylan loved putting you in your place. today though, he wanted to take a different approach.

you watched as dylan stood up and set down the shirt he was about to change into. how he then walked toward you slowly looking down at you. your gaze moved down staring at the ground feeling his intimidating gaze he put two fingers under your chin to move your head up to look at him.

his damn smile, it practically killed you. “d’ya need me to show you how i’m yours and only yours?” his thumb moved to your bottom lip pulling it down slightly to reveal your bottom teeth. you were in a trance as he bent down, head centimeters away from yours. “hmm?” he was waiting for a response. like always, you didn’t know what to say or respond with.

he kneeled down on both knees. “why’d you go all quiet on me now, huh?” his hands trailed over your thighs, meeting in the middle multiple times before trialing back to the side and up again. the connection sending you chills that followed its path. “i can show you, baby. you just gotta say the words. go on don’t be shy, say em’”

your breathing had begun to increase at a more rapid pace. his touch always had this effect on you. you leaned back letting the tickling sensation of his fingertips relax you. he was looking at you through his lashes as he grinned slightly loving how his actions impacted you.

you wouldn’t say you were nervous but… you were nervous. a few seconds later you had gained the courage to speak up. “show me.” you whispered, encouraging him to go further and do what he was going to do to you.

he licked his lower lip before nodding. “yes ma’am.” he began by tapping your hips so you could lift them. he then slowly began to pull your bottoms down, bringing your panties down with them leaving you bare in front of him. his mouth watered as he made eye contact with your pretty glistening pussy. like a starving man, he pulled your knees closer to him causing you to be leaned back at a 110-degree angle trying to keep yourself propped up.

he licked his lips before leaning down stopping right before he touched your center. “m’gonna show you how much you mean to me. gonna make you feel so good.” his breath feathered your pussy causing you to buck your hips up with impatience.

you nodded not speaking up, just wanting him to touch you already. he noticed how desperate you were for him so he went ahead and closed the gap wrapping his lips around your lower ones making the most obnoxious sounds. your hand immediately went to his hair and clutched it in your grasp. “ohh fuck — “ a tiny moan slipped past your lips.

he slurped up your arousal slathering his saliva all over your sex. his hands were smoothing over your thighs before he moved them to your pussy and used his fingers to spread your folds more, stimulating where you needed him the most. he worked his tongue like magic, making you clench your eyes shut as you felt your legs try to close at the sensation.

he tutted before moving them apart. “cmon, keep em’ open.” he groaned against you; the vibrations sending chills throughout your body. your mouth fell agape when you looked down and saw the sight of dylan completely devouring you. he flicked his tongue over and over sending you closer and closer. “God, you’re the only one for me.” he praised, making the most pornographic sounds.

you bit your tongue as you embraced the wave of pleasure that was about to hit you. you pathetically whined to dylan, trying to voice how close you were. “mmnph — m’so close.” you gasped, your thighs shaking around his head.

he smirked at you. he took your words as a sign to act like a starved man. “then give it to me baby, don’t i deserve it? made you feel soo good and showed you how you’re the only one for me. need you to cum on my tongue, please.” he whispered as he pulled you impossibly closer.

it wasn’t much longer until you wailed and whined as your body seized because of the euphoric state you had reached. your hand was clutching dylan’s hair tight as you tried to close your thighs around his head. that didn’t stop his antics. he didn’t falter as he rode you through your orgasm licking up all your juices.

when you came down from your high, you looked exhausted. dylan though, had a lazy smile on his face. “love when you look like that.”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “like what?” you questioned. his response only had you rolling your eyes.

“like i’ve just given you the best orgasm of your life.”

© slxtarchive

[ghostlychief]

tattooed heart

the one where you ask Ghost about his tattoos

---

You’re lying in bed with your head on Ghost’s chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as you examine his tattooed arm. Your hands hold up his (surprisingly) heavy arm in order to study the designs more effectively. You’ve been asking him the story behind each tattoo for the past half hour, intrigued by what inspired them. And Ghost has answered you thus far, quelling your wonder in the history behind his now full sleeve. Some have more in-depth stories than others, or are more meaningful to him, but he never fails to answer you earnestly, always giving you a good story behind each one.

You can’t exactly explain what prompted you to sit down (rather lay down) with Ghost to get the details and pick his brain about his sleeve. Maybe you secretly just wanted to run your hand up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos while also being able to feel his solid muscles underneath them, and so therefore you needed an excuse. Maybe you just wanted to feel closer to him somehow, anyway you could, and this is what you came up with that night. Whatever the true reason, you will always look back at this memory fondly, as you spend the night together, learning more about each other.

“Mm what about this one?” You’re pointing at the American traditional skull and snake tattoo on his upper bicep. Ghost chuckles lightly at your pondering, finding it cute that you were so invested in the story behind each and every one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s the story behind it?” you ask again. Your fingertip runs gently over the design, tracing the pattern, the action making goosebumps arise on Ghost’s skin. Your soft eyes glance up at him, catching his gaze as well which makes him smile at you. His other arm, that’s not being investigated at the moment, tightens it hold around your shoulders and he lets out a nostalgic sigh before answering you.

“Well to be honest, it was as cover up for another tattoo I got many years ago.”

You let out a hum of understanding before asking, “What was the other tattoo? How bad could it have been for you to get it covered up?”

You and your questions.

Letting out another sigh and with regret coating his voice, he finally answers you. “I lost a dare with my friends and had to get the cliche, heart with ‘mom’ written in it. And obviously that doesn’t really fit the vibe of what I was going for, for my sleeve, so I eventually just got it covered up.” He nonchalantly shrugs after finishing his explanation, subsequently making you shift on his chest.

You prop yourself up a little so you can see him better. “Aww is Simon a mama’s boy?” You have a knowing smile on your lips as you look up at him, and see his eyes roll to heaven and back at your teasing.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re done asking me about my tattoos.” He pulls his arm out of your grasp, although not too roughly, and gently pushes you back onto the bed and rolls on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head propping him up and caging you under him.

“Are you done?” he asks while lowering himself slightly so he can nudge your nose with his, your lips just a hair’s breadth apart.

You close your eyes at his gesture, already forgetting about your questions, your thoughts quickly consumed by Simon being on top of you, being this close to you. You nudge his nose back and hum, “I think I could be, if you can take my mind off of things.”

You open your eyes then and see Simon smirking down at you. “Say no more.”

---

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm posting a chapter within two weeks and not a month? What sorcery is this? Anyway, thank you for staying with me through these chapters. We're getting to the juicy stuff here soon, which will be very angsty. I also want to remind everyone that this is a dark fic that deals with suicide, SA, and severe mental illness. You'll hate some of these characters and their actions and have questions about them as the story progresses, but everything has a reason, and it'll all tie together eventually. Just have faith, babes.

Chapter Warnings: misogyny, eugenics, mentions of and trauma related to COCSA, suicidal ideations, severe mental illness, self-deprecating thoughts, and sexual harassment.

The Great Hall echoed with the clamor of anxious voices. The petition summoned all the court members, seemingly attempting to embarrass your family publicly. Although hearings like these did not necessitate the presence of all the Lords and Ladies, they were all there, rendering the open space oppressively stuffy and cramped. The Iron Throne commanded attention with its imposing presence. Fashioned from the melted swords of Aegon the Conqueror’s enemies, it formed a seat that threatened anyone who ventured too close to its pointed metal surface. 

Daemon was conversing with your mother, and his strong fists clasped over his stomach as he leaned in to speak into her ear. Luke stood by her side, picking at his slender fingers while cowering beneath his cloak. You felt sorry for your younger brother. He didn’t want to be the Lord of the Tides and despised the idea so much that it became a fear of the sea. Part of you believed that Jace should inherit the Driftwood Throne since he was the second-born, but your mother’s advisors pressured that if Jacaerys married you, he wouldn’t be able to rule the Seven Kingdoms and High Tide, so Luke was next in line.

Your stepsister Rhaena was seated on the other side of you and Jace. You glanced at her slender form, noticing her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locs piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, who looked at his shoes with an undignified pout. You stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Jace’s body. He tried not to show how your gentle actions comforted him in front of the onlookers, subtly leaning into your side.

The hairs on your neck prickled as if someone was watching you closely. You caught a glimpse of your eldest uncle’s sullen face meeting yours. Aegon’s looming stare was fixed on you and your connection with your brother, his lips curving into a frown. Some of you wanted to return his stare with mockery for his audacity, but you held your decorum, fearing what his anger could entail if you went too far. Years ago, you experienced his kindness, leaving an irreparable scar on your soul.

You sensed the anxiety rising at the mere thought of having to confront your eldest uncle once more. Despite six years having passed, the wounds still feel fresh. Clutching Jace tightly to your side, you battle the overwhelming temptation to seek solace within his luxurious robes as a torrent of memories came rushing back as the petition commences.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto Hightower spoke, his voice booming across the Great Hall, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As the Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“The Crown will now hear the petitions.”

Aegon felt a surge of frustration as he watched you avoid making eye contact, unable to bear the sight of you being affectionate with someone else. You had been his closest ally until Aemond’s actions shattered everything. With a scowl, he directed his gaze toward the ground and decided to converse with you about the years past. The eldest Prince was resolute in his determination to make you see that he was not the one at fault.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” the Hand spoke, announcing the challenger to the room.

The individual accountable for this incident stepped up, adorned in an opulent doublet of rich velvet in a deep navy shade, almost black. He briefly acknowledged the presence of Lord Corlys’s wife. As he drew nearer, you found yourself in the presence of Ser Vaemond for the second time in your life. His facial hair displayed a striking blend of salt and pepper, evidence of the many decades of life experience that distinguished him from you.

“My Queen,” he greeted with a nod, “my Lord Hand.” Luke visibly bristled at his Great Uncle’s voice, retreating further into his cloak and your mother’s comforting presence. 

If the Gods were fair beings, they would strike Lord Vaemond down where he stood for daring to spout treasonous lies before the Court. The mere petition was a ploy to publicly embarrass and cast doubt upon your mother’s claim as heir to the Iron Throne. This was why he chose to pounce like a lion in wait for its prey onto the opportunity of his older brother getting injured. It was as if Lord Vaemond had already declared his brother dead before he returned to his bed. You were raised by a second son and understood too well of their lusts for what the eldest sibling had. 

As you tightly gripped Jace’s hand, you made a solemn vow to take the necessary action, not just to protect your family but also for the greater good of your kingdom. This would be the first time you would employ your extensive knowledge of herbs and medicinal practices for a malevolent purpose, but you were willing to do whatever it took for their sake. Throughout history, many distinguished individuals have fallen victim to choking on wine or food, which has proven fatal for even those of lesser stature.

“The history of our noble houses extends past the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our House became the last of their kind.” You glanced at your mother while Vaemond droned eloquently, her regard downcast with a disapproving smirk. “Our forebears came to this land, knowing they would fail; it would be the end of their bloodlines and name. I have spent my entire life defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his blood,” the second son petitioned. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you spotted Princess Rhaenys, her stare boring holes into the back of her good brother’s skull. Your worries that the Queen Who Never Was would not side with Luke and his claim lessened as you noted the irritation on her face, the fury at Vaemond’s claim that he had the right to be Lord of the Tides and not her, as if her rule during Corlys’ absence meant that the Driftwood Throne was not in safe hands until Luke was ready.

Otto stared at the man with a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his genuine emotions. Arrogance and pride shine through, revealing his bias. “It’s a true, unimpeachable blood of the House of Velaryon that runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my son’s, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” your mother interrupted, causing everyone in the room to direct their attention to her. “If you cared so much about your House’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition-”

You sucked in a nervous breath, your gaze flickering to your mother as you scratched at your scalp. She knew better than to interrupt during a petition to the Crown. She would have scolded you for such an act. Perhaps since it wasn’t her father, she felt the ability to speak out of turn was appropriate. Even the daughter of the King wasn’t allowed such liberties.

“You will have a chance to make your petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” the Queen interrupted, causing your simmering vexation to spike into a rolling boil. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

You understood Queen Alicent’s opinion but couldn’t quell the rise of frustrated tears at her words. It was not her place to order your mother. She was a wife to the King, a consort, and whatever jurisdiction she had was given to her by a man. She held no real power, and remembering that would do her well.

As if Alicent heard your thoughts, her amber eyes flicked to you. You felt your stomach lurch as the bread you had earlier threatened to decorate the stone floor. You did not like the Queen after what she did to your mother and her obsession with you. Her possessiveness was something you never understood, nor did you want to. Whatever the Queen had twisted and distorted you to be inside her mind was not something you desired to give fruit to, disregarding her pleading looks as you focused on the Lord before you. 

Ser Vaemond turned to stare smugly at Rhaenyra, continuing with his rant of blood purity and superiority. “What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, but you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

A tugging at your bell sleeve brought your attention to Jace, noting how you unconsciously scratched at your scalp. Suddenly, you realized that in the moment’s intensity with Aemond, you had dropped your headpiece in the hall. Swiftly nodding that you were all right, Jace began to stroke the back of your clenched knuckles in a silent gesture of support. Your hand had long forgotten its comforting touch as it blanched from ire.

“This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours,” Vaemond finished, staring hard at your Luke as you cringed.

Jace did not let the Lord or the three people frighten you for long, subtly shifting to block him and all other stares from view like the moat of iron spikes surrounding Maegor’s Holdfast. Why were they all looking at you? The Lords and Ladies. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. You silently willed them to stop, but it was for naught. 

The Lord turned from Luke, his prideful grin duller as he addressed the Queen and Hand. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor,” Vaemond finally concluded, taking a few steps back, “the Lord of Driftmark, the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto concluded atop a throne that was not his as the second son gave one last grimace toward your family.

With the retreating of the Lord, you were given the perfect view of the Green children, the eldest still very much disinterested in what was happening around him, shifting on his feet as if he was itching to leave the room, which you supposed was true. The second child was attempting to dissociate from the world around her, uncomfortable with the animosity between the two houses, her golden dress the opposite of her appearance. The third and final member seemed to match his Mother and Grandsire, an air of superiority radiating from his toned body that sent shivers to your core. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” the Hand called, “you may now speak for your son, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.”

Your mother approached before the steps of the Iron Throne, her body language openly depicting her ire at the whole matter. Her complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation caused you to crack a smile, looking at Jace in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If I am forced to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago in this very room-”

Your mother’s remarks were cut short by the creaking of hinges, the grand doors to the Great Hall opening to reveal the rhythmic tapping of a cane.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of The Andals, the Roynar, The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Gasps echoed through the expansive room as all eyes turned to your mother. She gazed in astonishment as her father appeared in public for the first time in years. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, half his face concealed by a golden mask, made his way across the grand throne room, causing a stir among the onlookers.

You recalled that six years ago, there was only a tiny sore on his cheek, such a minuscule gash that festered and grew to eat away at his flesh until you could see the rotting teeth within his skull. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to the steady tapping of your Grandsire, your heart unable to watch the hunched figure.

The Hand seemed more shocked than any. His stoic face of pride morphed into one of stunned surprise as your Grandsire made his way to the bottom steps of the Iron Throne. 

“I will sit on the throne today,” the King rasped, his entire weight resting on the dragon head of his walking stick.

“Your Grace,” Otto reluctantly acknowledged, gaping wide as he took his place next to his daughter and her children.

A kingsguard quickly rushed to the side of his ruler, briefly assisting before Viserys weakly shoved him away. You couldn’t watch this—watch someone once so full of joy and love for his kin struggle to walk the stairs of his ancestors as you nestled your face into Jace’s shoulder. The sound of fallen metal echoed in the room, bringing your attention upward. Your Grandsire’s crown had fallen onto the stairs before the throne as a quiet grunt of discontent puffed past his chapped lips. Daemon was behind his brother before anyone was the wiser, assisting the last remnants of his late parents’ love to his ruling seat and placing the golden Crown of Jaehaerys on the remaining tatters of silver hair.

While you indulged in a lavish meal of quail and lamb on the breathtaking island of Dragonstone, you could aid him, but unfortunately, you were unaware of his plight. Overcome with remorse for not setting aside your troubles to support your Grandsire, you shed tears uncontrollably.

“Sister, you’re crying,” he whispered below the shell of your ear. You nodded silently, whipping away the stray water that collected on your warm cheek.

Jace knew your strong aversion to displaying any hint of vulnerability through tears. He recognized that you viewed it as a manifestation of a perceived girlish weakness that you deemed incompatible with your role as heir to the Seven Kingdoms. He felt helpless as he witnessed you, unable to offer the solace he longed to provide.

Staring at both of you with a fierce scowl across his narrow pink lips, Aemond believed you deserved to experience pain. However, he struggled with his emotions, attempting to quash the pang piercing his dark heart. Aemond envisioned himself as the unyielding pillar, braving the tumultuous waves during a tempest at sea. He saw himself as your shelter from the salty waters, ready to wipe away any tears that adorned your skin. Jacaerys was far from being a man deserving of a princess, unlike…

The Prince’s chest rumbled with a grunt of discontent as he resisted completing his thought despite knowing the truth in his heart. Upon hearing the sound, Aegon glanced at his brother with a perplexed expression and followed his line of sight with a mix of understanding and bitterness, forming a frown on his face.

“I must admit my confusion,” your Grandsire spoke, his frail voice reverberating through the high walls of the hall. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.” You did not need to look at Vaemond to see his outrage. You could sense it from where you stood twenty paces away, your tears slowly drying as you gazed at the disappointed Queen. “The only one present who might offer keener insights into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone turned to the woman as she processed her cousin’s words. “Indeed, your grace,” she nodded, taking a moment to look at her brother-in-law. 

Eyes followed the Queen Who Never Was as she spoke, her voice so smooth and elegant you felt envy for it at the back of your mind. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed.”

The atmosphere in the room was charged with a tumult of emotions. Anger, betrayal, shock, and relief swirled around the Great Hall like a powerful storm. Ser Vaemond was furious, deeply hurt by his good sister’s words. To him, being a true Velaryon meant everything, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his bastard nephew, born from a woman pretending to be virtuous, tarnishing his family’s name and the honor of the realm. He was resolute in his refusal to accept this situation. Vaemond’s bloodline was solid and pure, unyielding like the sea.

“Princess Rhaenyra has informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Princess Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The speed at which your head whipped towards Jace was almost otherworldly, nearly causing you to stumble. His face reflected your shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish before he turned to glance at your mother. A serene smile graced her pink lips, and she quickly lowered her gaze while placing a protective hand over her swollen stomach.

Apart from your mother, no one else seemed to share the same sense of pride. The Queen’s expression soured even more than you thought possible, and the Hand remained stunned by the sudden turn of events as you withdrew your hand from Jace’s.

Aegon had suddenly perked up at the revelation, uncharacteristically grinning as he watched the drama unfold while Aemond observed your misfortune with barely concealed satisfaction. You couldn’t pinpoint why he had an abrupt interest in the conversation. He no doubt enjoyed the misfortune of others, even if it was his kin. 

“Well,” the King spoke, his breathing now calmed, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The entire family breathed a sigh of relief, their shared sense of burden and responsibility slowly dissipating as they watched the weight of the future shift onto the Greens. In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for not shouldering the load yourself. Princess Rhaenys, with an almost irritated yet dignified stride, stood beside her eldest granddaughter, her presence exuding a complex mix of annoyance and pride.

Though you hadn’t moved from your spot beside your twin, you felt like a league away from him, gaping blankly at the glistening steel swords running over the steps like a river. The longer you studied them, the more they began to contort, seeing viscous crimson liquid melt down the blades. The future you had planned with your brother was impaled to the hilt. 

A scoff cut through the moment of joy, your head directed to the sound. “You break the law, centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond spoke, venom laced within every syllable. ��But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” 

Your brown orbs flickered from the man to the King. “Allow it?” Viserys echoed, testing the word on his dry tongue. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The thick, oppressive silence enveloped the scene, defying even the sharpness of Darksister’s blade. Every individual present held their breath, their anticipation palpable as they waited to witness the outcome.

“That is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine!” the second son shouted, causing everyone to jump in fright.

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra ordered you and your brothers before swiftly turning her attention to Vaemond. “You have said enough.” 

None of you obeyed.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” your Grandsire declared. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” 

“You,” Vaemond stated, taking menacing steps forward, “may run your House as you see fit, but you will not decide my future. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” 

He turned to your family, feet firmly planted with the grip on his longsword. Your look stared fire at his, jaw clenched as he spat his vitriol. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it end on account of this…” 

You arched your head to the side, eyes widening in defiance as you silently urged him to speak the words that yearned to escape his lips. However, he disregarded you, considering you nothing more than a mere girl in a world dominated by men, a lost cause. You resolved to shed any lingering guilt about your intentions at that moment.

“Say it,” Daemon’s soft and menacing timbre whispered.

Onlookers scrutinized with bated breath as Vaemond considered his words, his gaze flickering from your father to you, Jace, your mother, and Luke. A sneer slowly pulled his lips, righting his posture as he bellowed.

“Her children are bastards!” 

You inhaled a near-inaudible growl from your throat as you took a charged step forward, only to be yanked back by Jace before you could do something you would regret. Soft murmurs sounded, the Greens all sharing the same look of begrudging disappointment. Jace seemed just as furious as you, his lips curling into a snarl.

“And they,” he glared at you, then at your mother, his jaw tensing, “are whores.” 

Your gaze immediately flicked to Aegon and then Aemond, your body independently moving as the crowd gasped. Aemond’s eye was no longer bright purple but a near black, shining like dragonglass shards. Despite this window into his soul, his outward appearance reached an unusual sereness. Thin lips parted as you noticed the faintest twitch, a tic you realized indicated his rage. 

“You have said your piece, Lord Vaemond,” Queen Alicent declared, fists humbly clasped over her clothed emerald green stomach. “The king has affirmed his decision, and you will do well to respect it without saying lies about the young princess.”

Did people know of what happened between you and Aegon and that of your brother? 

They couldn’t have. You took steps to ensure your image to the public aligned with their ideals. You studied in the Citadel, for Seven’s sake! Your mind raced with the possibility of your secrets being discovered, the chance that the realm would know of your sins before marriage. At the time, it did not seem to be a mistake as you and Jace believed you would be married, but now, just as it seemed like all things did, it slipped through your fingers like the sand that lined the shores of Blackwater Bay.

Aemond watched as you mindlessly attempted to run toward Vaemond like a combat-trained man. He thought it would be entertaining to watch you claw the Velaryon Lord’s eyes out and contemplated in admired silence how reckless you could become when enraged, wondering how far that wrath would take you.

You were unable to hear the sound of raised voices expressing articles of treason, threats of violence, and the unsheathing of a sword until you felt blood splatter on your cheekbone, seeing the sliced head of Vaemond Velaryon laying a few paces from your feet. Jace pulled your face to his chest as you gasped in shock, clutching his arms like he was the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment of grotesque insanity. 

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon declared, looking at the limp corpse below.

Studying his uncle in brief awe, Aemond’s violet eye flickered from the decapitated corpse to that of the assailant. He moved to see Jace’s feeble attempt at protecting you from the gore that lay leaking into the stones, mouth curling in disdain as he scoffed. Your brother was to be the one to protect you from harm, physical or emotional, yet he was incapable of doing that.

Momentarily, Aemond thought of coming to your side, knowing that he was a worthy enough man to be what you needed, and if not that, then only to spite Jacaerys. He shook the fleeting thought away with a grunt, scorn filling his heart. 

“Disarm him!” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard yelled, his fellow members drawing their weapons.

You chose who you thought worthy that night on Driftmark when you stood by idly as Luke ripped his eye from the socket.

“No need,” your stepfather cooly protested, wiping the blood of his kin from his blade and exiting the room.

Your eyes could not leave the bleeding form of Vaemond Velaryon, the top half of his dreaded white hair discarded as the crimson liquid pooled around him. Viserys groaned above, collapsing onto the Iron Throne like a sack of bones from the effort of living. Alicent and your mother ran to his aide.

“Niece.”

You expected to see Aemond come and continue his taunts from before, but instead, you saw Aegon standing before you, his square face etched with worry. You would have thought him handsome had he not done what he did and become the man he had become as you merely stared at him, your mind blank and body numb. 

How could he show you such concern, knowing how much pain he caused you? What could you say to him after everything that transpired? After he effectively distorted the pure view of your world into betrayal and anguish. He most likely wanted to use you as he did to the maids of the Keep. You thought you might as well let him. That was how you felt now that the one man you willingly gave your body to with the expected outcome of marriage was bound to another. That same disgusting sensation you had the following days after your assault came rushing back as if you were that scared little girl again.

You did not want to feel that weak again and parted your lips to speak the venom he deserved to hear. Suddenly, you found your throat too dry as you swallowed the air instead. Aegon extended a hand to yours in what you believed to be a comforting gesture, fingers brushing each other as terror surged through your limbs. 

Your sights glanced at the corpse as the hilt of Vaemond’s sword glinted in the light. You could end this here and now. End the torment. End the constant uncertainty that would be your mother’s secession. Your demise would be of no consequence.

“Sister,” Jace called, his tone clipped and brown eyes wide. The same eyes you had looking back at you. “Mother wants us in our chambers to prepare for supper.” 

You recoiled as if your limb was scorched when you swiftly pulled it away from Aegon. With a curt nod to your twin, you allowed him to take you. Walking out of the Great Hall, you made a conscious effort not to glance back, keenly aware of the intensity of Aegon’s piercing stare as it followed the contours of your womanly form. You were sure that this encounter wouldn’t be the last, and the prospect of it propelled you to seek solace in the comforting embrace of your twin.

The twilight had descended upon King’s Landing, casting the city in a hazy glow. Despite the late hour, the flagstone streets teemed with activity as revelers roamed for company, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. Meanwhile, you found yourself clutching a goblet of fiery spirits, hoping to steady your frayed nerves as you sat between your imposing eldest uncle and your sweet twin.

The dining hall exuded an air of palpable tension, with hushed conversations among family members punctuating the room as servants bustled about, preparing for the day’s last meal. Everyone waited in quiet anticipation for the arrival of the King, their faces adorned with joyous and restrained smiles, marking the festivities of new beginnings. However, amidst this atmosphere of hopeful anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disquiet. In mere hours, it seemed as though everything you had worked for was unraveling before your eyes.

You were intended to enter into matrimony with Jace just as Visenya married her younger brother Aegon. As twins, you shared an unbreakable bond, with one heart and one soul inhabiting two bodies. No other individual in existence was as ideally suited for you.

As you watched your brothers’ interactions with their betrothed, you couldn’t help but notice the sour expression on your face. Each brother was dutiful and respectful, engaging in hushed conversations with their betrothed about the future and what it might hold. You felt a mix of confusion and offense as you pondered why Jace had swiftly embraced being bound to another after spending years with you as his unspoken wife.

Your eyes locked with Aemond’s from across the opulent room as he conversed with his brother, a sly smirk on his lips. He seemed to revel in your displeasure at taking your brother from you. With an exasperated sigh, you leaned back in your ornate high chair, surveying the sumptuous spread of food before you, each dish tempting you with its rich aromas and vibrant colors.

Growing increasingly impatient for your Grandsire’s arrival, you couldn’t resist the allure of a plump, purple grape sitting on the nearby platter. As you reached for it, your mother reprimanded you.

The air was heavy with the scent of wine as you had already consumed three cups before the arrival of the King, his face wearing a grim expression. Your Grandsire was brought into the grand hall, seated on a makeshift throne, and everyone in the room rose in respect for his position. His crown, a symbol of his authority, had been long forgotten as he was placed between the Queen and your mother. You noticed sores on him that you hadn’t seen before, standing out more prominently in the grandeur of the dining hall. The sight made your eyes prickle with the threat of tears, and your stomach churned with unease.

Despite being seated, he leaned heavily onto his cane, the weight of his extravagant Targaryen robes bearing down on his frail body. You fought back tears, refusing to show any vulnerability in front of those who held little respect for you.

“This is an occasion of celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses,” your grandfather began, a thick rasp to his voice. “A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed. May you find yours yet, granddaughter.” 

You sat there, forcing back your tears and lifting your glass as the joyful cheers filled the room. The dreams you had shared with Jace seemed to shatter with each sip of wine. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Jace’s fleeting smile towards Baela deepened your sense of loss. It wasn’t their engagement that bothered you, but rather the uncontrollable circumstances that had brought it about. Still, some of you couldn’t help but resent the pair.

A sudden rancid sweetness wafted into your nose as you saw Aegon lean over you, wrapping his hand around the back of your chair and whispering to your twin. 

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” he teased with a lopsided grin. You observed him with wide eyes that danced from your uncle to your twin, hyper-aware of every breath and twitch of his limbs.

Jace stiffened beside you as he clenched his fist atop the table, barely containing his ire. It was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. You saw his hand move to connect with yours like always when he was stressed, but you moved to place it on your lap, instinctively turning your face away from his. 

“It seems your twin doesn’t share the same sentiment,” Aegon softly declared so only the two of you could hear, lips moving into a downward smirk as he watched the silent dispute between siblings, victoriously sitting upright in his seat.

“Let us toast Prince Lucerys as well. The future Lord of the Tides,” your Grandsire continued as you felt the touch of another. Your posture became stiff as Aegon’s fingers wrapped around yours in a vice-like grip, no doubt only to spite Jace as you struggled to break free without causing attention.

Taking advantage of the momentary quiet, your eldest uncle mocked Jace again, moving your hand so he could see it. “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?”

Rage welled inside your chest at Aegon’s words, and you feared as you looked into your brother’s eyes that he would spill your affairs in anger. Without thinking of appearances, you dug your nails into Aegon’s hand, causing him to yelp as he released you. 

“You can play the jester as you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace noiselessly snapped in return as your uncle hummed in acquiescence, cradling his injured hand and wounded pride.

Aemond’s eye was trained on the scene before him as he intently observed the three of you. His face remained a practiced impassivity; the only sign of his inner emotions was his finger wrapping on the table. Aemond took a sip of his wine to disguise his chuckle. His brother should know better than to test you. Even as children, you were not one to take things idly.

“It both gladdens my heart,” the King spoke, his voice straining without much effort, “and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world.” Viserys looked toward his left, your mother, stepfather, and brothers in his sight. Your hand gripped the stem of your glass, ignoring the heated glares from across the table. “We’ve grown so distant from each other in years past.”

You forced yourself to hide the scoff at his words, taking another long drink. And why would that be? Perhaps it was because of the Queen’s unwavering grudge against your mother that festered into a hatred of her mere existence, his son raping you at such a young age you didn’t understand what it was, or the permanent injury of a young boy that never received the justice he deserved.

Viserys paused his speech, wheezing and supporting his weight on the table as a hand came to remove his mask. The sight was nothing you could have imagined. The space where his bright purple eye should be was a hollow hole of partially healed and rotting flesh. The wound on his cheek had eaten away at the skin and muscle, revealing his decaying grey teeth.

“My face is no longer handsome if it ever was.” Phlegm was stuck within your Grandsire’s throat, creating an almost repulsive noise as he spoke. “Tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father...”

Aegon met the regards of a man who was his father only in name. His glare was dark, filled with anger you had never seen before, yet Aemond couldn’t bear to look at what he became—his father’s desperation, his mouth curling into a sneer. 

Pain radiated suddenly from your lap, stare snapping to see your eldest uncle’s hand unexpectedly gripping your thigh, his digits digging into the flesh. It was in retaliation as you attempted to pry him off, but it was useless as Aegon secured his grip, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake. You bit your lip, concealing the painful scowl that curled your lips and arched your brows. It was hard to focus on anything other than your skin aching to be free of your body, not wanting to cause a scene.

“...who may not walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold your feelings in your hearts. The Crown cannot stand strong as long as the House of The Dragon remains divided.”

Aemond’s single violet eye turned to you, your stares locking with thousands of unsaid emotions, unsaid truths as you fidgeted, trying in vain to remove Aegon.

“Set aside your grievances!” Viserys declared passionately, startling those at the table and causing you to break your revere momentarily. “If not for the sake of the Crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Silence fell across the table as the King stumbled into his seat, the metal of his mask and cutlery clanging as Alicent dutifully came to his aid. Your mother stood abruptly, not giving the room to process the King’s words as her chair scraped against the stone floor. With a goblet in her hand, all eyes turned to her.

“I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen,” she started, her eyes downcast. You watched your mother skeptically, brown orbs flickering from her to Alicent. “I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife.”

The Queen stared at her old friend, so full of emotions. Years of harbored pain and resentment from events you did not know, bleeding from her chest and onto her finely tailored green dress.

“She has tended to him with unwavering devotion, love, and honor; for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology,” your mother concluded, returning to her seat.

You felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment between lost lovers, the happy moments of their history flashing before each of their minds’ eyes. Turning to Aemond again, you realized he did not remove his stare from you. His ametrine eye was a glassy pool, yet his face was stoic to everyone. You were sure you mirrored him, though you were not as skilled at hiding emotions, your chin slightly quivering.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We’re both mothers, and we love our children. We have more in common than we allow,” Alicent confessed, her voice barely stuttering. “I raise my cup to you and your House. You’ll make a fine Queen.”

Otto’s disapproving stare did not go unnoticed by you, and Aemond reflected on his expression. Each person raised their goblets individually, taking sips in honor of their current and future Queen.

Aegon threw his drink back twice, going for a third time, but stopped once he caught sight of you. Droplets of Arbor Gold slipped past your lips, and you lurched forward to see the liquid before it ran down to the aperture of your chest. The Prince swallowed audibly, his throat clicking as his trousers grew tight.

Memories from your childhood of meals spent with your eldest uncle where he would wipe whatever remnants you had on your mouth came flooding to mind. You realized then that these gestures were not ones of kindness but a sick, disgusting act that he used to groom you and take pleasure from. Gripping the pristine knife that rested atop the fine mahogany table, you dreamed of having his blood spewing from between his lips as you plunged it into his neck. 

Taking another swig of your wine, you felt nothing but dry air hit your moist tongue. Aegon noticed it, smiling in an almost feline nature as he took the glass from you. 

“Worry not, niece. May your mouth never run dry in my presence,” he declared and went to the pitcher between Baela and Jace. “I regret the disappointment you will soon suffer,” you heard him whisper into your cousin’s ear. “But if you wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.” 

The clatter of cutlery sliced through the air as your brother stood, all eyes turning to him. You tried to placate Jace as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white and ignoring your kind touches. Everyone watched with keen eyes as on the other end of the table, Aemond stood, seeming to size up with your brother like a cat arching its spine. Placing your cup of wine in front of you, Aegon sat, dragging his fingertips across your neck and making you shudder in disgust. 

Realizing that Jace had captured the attention of everyone surrounding the table, he cleared his throat, stalling for time. You glanced at him with an uneasy feeling, looking back to Aemond as he refused to sit.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth,” Jace began, and you struggled to keep your incredulous expression at bay. “And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your families, good health, dear uncles.” 

He concluded the toast as he and the rest raised their cups to their worried lips. Playfully, albeit awkwardly, Jace punched your eldest uncle in the shoulder as you struggled to keep your laughter at bay, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“To you as well,” Aegon begrudgingly replied, and you flicked a mocking look at him. He refused to meet you.

The screech of a chair sounded in the dining hall, and you turned your head to see your sweet Aunt Helaena abruptly standing with her cup in hand. “I would like to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. They will be married soon. It isn’t so bad. He mostly ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Daemon’s chuckle pierced through the unease, the three full goblets of wine gone to your head as you stifled one of your own, hiding it behind your digits. Aegon refused to meet anyone’s gaze, finding his half-eaten plate much more interesting than the people before him. Helaena looked to you for support, ensuring that what she said was good as you smiled. You forgot how much you cared for your aunt and admired her thinly veiled jab at Aegon’s lack of duties.

Supper commenced, and you wasted no time feasting, eating the savory vegetables cooked in butter and smothered in rich spices. Smoked cheeses, both hard and soft, found their way to your plate, nearly moaning at their hearty combination with slices of meat. The frigid environment from before left and was replaced with the warmth of laughter and music. Even the old King himself wore a smile on his cracked grey lips.

You ignored the piercing regard burning your face, focusing on your mother and stepfather. Daemon whispered something into your mother’s ear, gently grasping her lithe fingers as she giggled, and a blush bloomed. The sight caused an ache to rise in your chest. The hollowness of your heart knocked on your ribs. You longingly desired to find a love like theirs. Your brother was stolen from you to secure all your inheritances, and while you understood it, nothing could make the hurt lessen.

Ignoring the fist cinching around your lungs, you downed your half-empty goblet of Arbor Gold, summoning a servant to refill it. You did not want to feel like this anymore—the ache, the throbbing in your head and heart. It was too much to bear. In the times of your melancholia, days were spent with a swirling storm of thoughts and memories of your childhood in the Keep—the bullying, your rape, to that of Driftmark filled with blood and boyish screams. They plagued your mind like a disease, culturing into an amalgamation of sadness, rage, guilt, self-mutilation, and isolation until you no longer wanted to live.

Jace rose from his seat with a groan from the wood and excused himself from his betrothed. You thought he might offer you a dance; he knew how much you loved to do so, but the idea sank like the food past your lips as he went to Helaena, extending a hand. Aegon stared at the pair as they went to the open space, his face one of surprise as you brought your cup to your lips, swallowing a smirk. It served him right. His treatment of Helaena, or lack thereof, was appalling. Though he may not be in a marriage of love, she was still his sister and the dreamy-eyed Princess deserved more.

A glimmer of gold suddenly drew your gaze, jolting you from contemplation. Viserys' magnificent mask gleamed in the flickering candlelight, his head tilting to one side as he visibly battled a wave of pain. Without hesitation, Queen Alicent signaled for the guards to accompany him back to his chambers. You observed with a concerned expression trailing behind as they carefully took the ornate wooden throne out of the grand dining hall. 

You caught Aemond’s gaze. It was impossible not to as it flicked from Helaena dancing to you. He looked like a barely concealed storm about the burst, as if he debated whether to slit your throat because of your existence or continue what he had started in the corridor. Your uncle had changed so much within six years that you didn’t recognize him, and you supposed it was the same for you. Two people who grew so close were suddenly torn apart by an unfinished tragedy where anger was left to decay until its rot took control. 

You worried that things would never be able to be put aside like your Grandsire wished if this wall of silence and grudges was not destroyed. Hate between your families would stay the same and cause the successful usurpation of your mother’s rightful throne. Deciding to swallow your pride and hurt, you stood, wanting to extend the broken branch of goodwill to Aemond, but Aegon refused to let you move. His arm pushed you back down into your seat with a look that sent tears of shocked terror into your eyes. You felt helpless under his gaze as a thinly veiled look of madness replaced a toothy grin gleaming in the candlelight.

“Won’t you give the courtesy of a dance, niece?” he asked with a dangerous lilt that hinted at something more. There was no room for refusal as he hoisted you from your chair. This was undoubtedly a jab at Jace for inviting Helaena as you watched your twin halt his movements. 

Ever since Aegon was a boy, he has been awful when sharing what he thinks is his. You recalled the many times you would ask to play with his wooden toys only to get smacked in the head with it or worse. It was as comforting as it was unnerving that parts of him were still the same.

Eyes flicking at Aemond, you pleaded for him to stand and make good on his promise to protect you from your eldest uncle, but he remained still, unmoving like the statues you compared him to. You were right here, mere steps away and by his side. He could insert himself and put an end to Aegon’s torture. After all, you would be indebted to him if he did, and what more could Aemond possibly desire than to have his bastard niece that he so despises at his mercy? 

“Aemond still hates you for what Luke did,” Aegon softly declared as you moved your attention to him. “I’m not. My ire is directed at those who caused this hatred to fester between us. You and I were friends once.” 

“Indeed, once. ‘Twas long ago now,” you quipped with venom like the pit vipers in Dorne.

Your uncle was a skilled dancer despite the plethora of alcohol he drank, twirling you with a grace you did not possess as you stumbled from nerves and firewater. Aemond did not know where to focus, gaze flicking from Helaena and Jace to you and Aegon so fast that he felt disoriented. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned. It wasn’t like he could do anything to separate you and his brother without acquiring Aegon’s jests hours later, yet he couldn’t control his anxiety as his finger nervously tapped the wooden table.

Bringing you close as you tripped, Aegon pressed your body against his as you felt the real reason behind his words, swaying to the music that made you want to scream and pull your hair from its roots.

“Things could return to how they were before. We could ride our dragons together, visit far-off lands, and spend our days in the Godswood eating those orange cakes you like. We’d be friends and even more so. Would that not be splendid?” the eldest Prince suggested with a grin.

There was nothing for you to do but endure this for the sake of appearances as you caught sight of a pair of amber eyes watching you, a slight upturn to her plump lips. Queen Alicent knew what her son did to you yet observed with a smile that you could interpret as one of maternal love. It enraged you. She was no better than her son. You hated her beyond words for the times you ever thought of her more than another Lord who cared not for the struggles of women.

Aemond no longer held his attention on you but that of Jace and Helaena, seeming to be unbothered by your childhood rapist and bully putting his hands in places that would be a sin. He would not save you now. It was up to you to defend yourself once more.

“You ended whatever smidge of camaraderie we had when you debased me at the top of Maegor’s battlements,” you spat as you moved away from him, only for Aegon to bring you back into another elegant dance. The Prince rolled his purple eyes, the indigo circles underneath them becoming prominent.

“We seem to have different recollections of that night,” he exasperatedly sighed as if you were nothing more than a child bothering their parents with unfounded fears. “I recall how we as children laughed and drank beside each other and how you said, yes, as I slipped my hand betwixt your thighs.”

Gasping, you shoved Aegon away as his hands traveled past your navel, suddenly hearing a chair screech in response. Aemond stood with his body squared toward the two of you as the room went silent. All twelve faces turned to him. You stared with bated breath as Aegon slipped his hand across your back, returning to his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink.

Would Aemond finally stand against Aegon for all the wrong he committed to the both of you? 

Pleading wordlessly, your body flushed as he stared unabashedly, tears of intensity pricking your eyes. The light of hope inside your chest was snuffed out as the servants brought a roasted pig onto the table. Luke could not contain his immature giggles as it was placed before Aemond, reminding him of the cruel jape he, Aegon, and Jace did. Whatever anger Aemond felt at his older brother soon turned into one of injustice for what Luke did all these years ago. You thought your younger brother knew better than this and sighed in defeat, all prospects of an amiable future between the Greens and Blacks disintegrating.

“Final tribute,” Aemond began, a lethal sway to his words. “To the health of my niece and nephews. Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and the Gods’ Light.” Your uncle’s single eye traveled to each of you, a stare so severe you felt yourself recoil inside of your being as you ran an unconscious hand through your scalp. “Each of them is handsome, wise, virtuous, and…” 

Aemond stuttered as he came to you, making the fatal mistake of losing himself within the depths of your comforting irises. He could see the water collecting at your lashes as your eyes turned into murky pools, threatening to drown him if he stared for a moment longer. He directed his attention at Luke, his ire becoming apparent as memories of your brothers and Aegon’s laughs bounced off the Dragonpit walls, soon turning into screams and red covering his vision. He felt the pain of losing an eye as if it was happening again and tightened his fist around his goblet, forcing the pain to fuel his rage. 

“And strong,” Aemond concluded as you released a disappointed sigh, focusing on anything but your uncle. “Come! Let us drain our cups to these four strong children.”

You understood what he was trying to do without speaking. His hurt was so fierce that it blinded all sense, leading him to react rashly. Aemond was forcing you to choose between your family and your affection for him, a situation that the Prince knew would play out as before. You knew what was expected of you; it was the same as last time. You would always choose your family over him. Duty was a sacrifice; you must sacrifice the memories of a bright-eyed boy with freckled cheeks and a love for reading and stolen kisses. The Aemond was no longer there, and you needed to accept that.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace proclaimed, his chin held high and shoulders back. Your brother was ever the picture of a strong king, sending a warmth to your heart that was crushed with reality. 

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond jabbed back as your head snapped to him. He could make whatever cruel taunts he desired at you but would not bring your brother into this. 

“A man lies dead for spouting such lies. What do you think will happen to you?” you snapped a vicious clip to your words. Before Aemond could respond, your brother stormed to him without a second thought, chest to chest, as his fist slammed across Aemond’s cheek. 

Gasping in surprise, you went to the two of them as you saw Luke’s face become one with a plate of food, hesitating for a moment until your twin was shoved to the ground. You marched toward Aemond with fire in your veins and an intent to harm as shouts erupted from your mother and Queen Alicent for everyone to stop. You all ignored them, Aegon swiftly coming behind you, lifting and swinging you by the waist as if you were no more than a doll. Jace tried to reach for you, but your uncle spun around, giggling in your ear at your attempts to break free as you became nauseous.

You realized this was all a joke to Aegon. He truly did not understand that what he did to you as children was wrong. 

Aegon couldn’t hide the excitement in his stomach at having you so close once more as you squirmed in his hold, burying his nose into your neck with a grin. He wondered if you would writhe like this if he had you naked between his bedsheets. 

Soon, the guards draped in metal armor and red robes pulled Jace and Luke away from their uncles as Aegon came face to face with Daemon. Unlike Aemond, your eldest uncle was not one to challenge others to fisticuffs as his laughter ceased. Your stepfather need only to flash your uncle a look for him to let you go, raising his arms in surrender as Daemon observed you to ensure you weren’t hurt. 

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” you heard Queen Alicent hotly scold Aemond, looking behind his lithe shoulder to where your mother held your body close to hers. 

Scoffing, your uncle cocked his head, staring down at his mother with a challenging look. “I was merely expressing my pride in my family, mother. Though it seems my niece and nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs,” he enunciated pointedly, glancing to where the three of you were restrained. 

“I’ll cut out your tongue!” you shouted as Jace broke free from the guards, coming behind you in support. Daemon halted you in your tracks, his touch gentle yet firm as he placed a hand on your arm. As you paused to regain your composure, you couldn’t help but notice the deep creases on his forehead, a sign of his genuine concern. You shrugged off his touch, refusing to succumb to paternal overtures because he intervened when Aegon was rough with you.

Your mother looked to the floor, a dejected expression on her porcelain features you couldn’t understand before she spoke to the three of you. “Go to your quarters. All of you, now.”

As you and Jace made your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the tense standoff between Daemon and Aemond. Your stepfather, casually leaning on his hips with one hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, exuded an air of calculated confidence. 

Standing in the doorway, you felt a flutter of anxiety in your heart, wondering what would unfold between the two men. You were curious to know if the two Targaryen men decided to brawl and whether you would go to your uncle or stepfather. There was a palpable sense of anticipation as Daemon glanced at where you stood, expressing a knowing look deep within his lilac eyes. He had already sent one person’s loved one to the Stranger. What was one more?

Sharing a look of frustration from you to your stepfather, Aemond grunted in displeasure, following your steps out of the dining hall. Jace checked himself into your shoulder as he forced you forward, refusing to let you dwell on the scene behind you. 

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I know we're upset with Aemond's behavior, but it'll make that character arch much sweeter. We can only have the enemies-to-lovers trope with them being enemies first! I feel bad for the poor MC. First, she's forced to return to the scene of a traumatic experience, forced to see her rapist, and then finds out the man she thought she was going to marry her whole life is engaged to someone else! Baby girl is going through it. Let's get this girl some therapy. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

We're starting to see how Aegon and Alicent might have begun to harbor some unhealthy traits regarding our reader. Don't worry. It'll get much worse from here on out! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n , @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna , @baybaybear1

[anyaeras]

request: Could you write a top!Agatha Harkness fic where she gets jealous seeing another girl flirting with reader and Agatha finally takes measures to claim reader as her property?

Teaching a Lesson || A.Harkness

Pairing: Top!Teacher!Agatha x Legal!Student reader

Summery: Y/n had been in a relationship with her Psychology professor Agatha Harkness for a while. Yet when y/n had been getting a bit to close with another student over a group project, Agatha couldn't help but reclaim her property.

Warnings : smut ,, AFAB!reader ,, gender!neutral!pronouns,, legal!age gap ,, teacherXstudent ,, semi!public sex ,, kinda mean!Agatha ,, gagging ,, mommy!kink ,, strap!on sex,, vibrator ,, degrading ,, praising ,, loads of pet names ,, possessive!Agatha ,, light nipple!play

Masterlist @anyaeras

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Sitting behind her desk Agatha finished getting papers ready for her lesson. As the class started to fill in Agatha stood getting started with her lesson on socializing and how it affects the human brain.

As always y/n greeted Agatha with a sweet smile when she walked into the class sitting down at a desk not far off from Agatha desk. The student had been sitting there since the start of the semester. Yet today their was a small change a young girl, she had transferred to Westview college not long ago, now also in the same psychology class had sat down next to Y/n today.

During the whole lesson the girl kept giggling and passing small notes making y/n smile. These actions didn't go unnoticed by Agatha who had cleared her throat to regather the two college students attention.

"May I ask why you two are disrupting my lecture?" Agatha Silk toned voice rang over the class filled with clear annoyance. Y/n quickly shook her head muttering a shy 'Sorry Miss' before trying to ignore the girl who she later learned her name was Kate giggles.

Agatha's lecture came to a lunch break, today being a 3 hour A and B part lesson. Normally y/n would stay with Agatha on lunch yet today Kate invited her to come eat with her and who was y/n to say no. Without much warning y/n left the room leaving Agatha a bit hurt before noticing she had a text from y/n.

"Kate invited me to go grab lunch with her, see you after class? <3" Agatha signed putting her phone down as she worked on her laptop silently until the half hour break came to an end, students filling back into the room.

Agatha carried on staying professional even when Kate and Y/n sneaked in a little late, y/n's face red from embarrassment, while kate just had a smirk on her face as she sat down back in the same seat. Agatha could feel the burning feeling of hate rising inside her as she kept going on.

"As we come to an end for the day. Does anyone have any questions I can clear up?" Agatha asked as she did at the end of every lesson.

"Yes, Miss Harkness. How do crushes affect one's mind in social settings?" Kate asked aloud the statment alone made Agatha scoff yet still staying true to her profession she answer the question.

"Often some may show it by blushing more, giggling or even being kinder to their said crush" Agatha muttered not going into much detail ready for this whole lecture to be over.

Finally it did end yet Kate hung back as y/n always did as they were waiting for Agatha.

"Y/n why don't you come out tonight with me and some friends, the new club downtown? See you at 8?" Kate called out leaving no room for a reply before slipping out of the room.

"I see you've made a new friend?" Agatha voice husked out as she packed up her things

"Oh yeah Kate she was super sweet, we went to a coffee house and-" y/n started to talk about her day yet was cut off by Agatha.

"Why did you come back late? Your face blushing? Did she make you laugh?" Agatha said her voice harsh. The tone alone stunning y/n.

"Agatha it was nothing"

"Just Nothing? she look at you like she wanted to take you right here infront of me!" Agatha snapped harshly stepping forward her hands cupping y/n's jaw.

"Agatha I swear" y/n tried yet it was no use they knew best how Agatha got in situations like this and it was best to just show Agatha that they were hers.

Y/n moved giving Agatha a soft kiss trying to calm her but was met with Agatha returning the kiss much harsher and slightly sloppy. Agatha's hands moved pushing y/n's down to their sides and holding them there.

"Why don't you be good for mommy and wait right here" Agatha purred before moving leaving y/n dazed behind her as she went to lock the classroom door, then moving back to her dark wooden desk opening the bottom draw revealing multiple fun-time toys.

A purple strap and vibrator she moved so that they sat now on top of her desk. The professor smirked at y/n's before giving a simple instruction.

"Go on doll face, strip." Agatha ordered smiling softly when y/n complied like the good little one they were. Their once simple outfit now pooling on the floor below. Left in nothing but a simple black bra and panties.

Reaching down Agatha grabbed some soft rope as she reached over tying y/n's hands behind their back smiling softly at them before giving y/n a sweet kiss.

"Mommy is gonna show you who owns you sweetheart" Agatha said a soft chuckle following behind her words.

"I know you do-" y/n once more was silenced the feeling of Agatha's fingers being shoved into their mouth was all that flooded their senses.

Agatha watched with a smirk as y/n's swirled their toung around her two digits that the dark haired women pressed oh so softly onto their tongue.

"So good for me sweetheart" Agatha purred before gently removing her fingers from y/n's mouth. Dragging her now wet finger down y/n's front stopping to remove the lacy bra letting it simply fall off, Agatha's wet fingers pitching and pulling at y/n's sensitive buds.

A small yelp came from y/n making Agatha stop abruptly.

"Shh my pet. You need to be silent for mommy" Agatha warned, and y/n was aware that it was a warning, next time they slipped up Agatha's would take action to fix their mistakes.

Agatha wet fingers left a trail as she dragged them down toward y/n's center, pulling her panties off in the process putting them on the desk next to them. Pushing y/n so that they were leaning onto the desk as well. Agatha then let her digits slip between her students folds collecting some of their slick.

"You're soaked. Is this for me Or for Kate?" The professor teased making y/n whine slightly at Agatha jealousy yet before they

Could protest anymore Agatha ruthlessly shoved two of her fingers into y/n's entrance, the loud yelp followed by a moan made Agatha tsk with fake pity.

"Sweetheart did I not just tell you to be quite for mommy? Such a dumb slut you are." Agatha said grabbing y/n's panties and shoving them into their mouth as a makeshift gag.

"Much better" the women purred as she fingered y/n's tight cunt.

Agatha used one hand to hold y/n steady trying to keep them standing as she fucked them harshly with her fingers. Her thumb coming up to press onto y/n's clit. Watching as their hips jerk up as a reaction, Agatha could feel y/n's pussy tighten around her fingers as she forced them to take a third stretching them slightly.

"Go ahead I know you wanna cum" She purred watching y/n's legs shake as she started to cum yet right as she was hitting her peak everything stopped, their orgasm ruined.

A whine muffled by the rough fabric which sat in their mouth came from y/n as Agatha ruined the feeling of absolute bliss.

"Aww you didn't really think mommy was going to reward you after you acted like such a slut all day? Silly thing you are" Agatha purred her breath hot on y/n's ear due to how close Agatha stood. The professor moved and readjusted y/n pushing her over the dark oak desk leaving her face down and ass up.

"Now why don't you show mommy that you can be good and not just a dumb little whore, don't cum without permission" Agatha said starting her sentence so sweetly, but ending quite bitter.

Agatha took the base of the purple silicon strap running it down y/n's dripping folds letting their pussy get the toy wet. Slipping it into Y/n's hole Agatha herself moaned at the sight.

"Your hungry pussy is taking me so well, greedy cunt" Agatha teased before starting to rut her hips into y/n's frame, thrusting hard enough that the desk moved slightly below them. Agatha held her hand over y/n's mouth pushing the makeshift gag deeper into the submissives mouth keeping them silent.

"Aww do you need to cum. Why don't you prove how much your mine and cum?" Agatha purred her other hand grabbing a vibrator from the side of the two, placing it against y/n's clit. Watching as their legs shook violently underneath them.

"Mommy can I cum?" Y/n's voice was muffled and distorted as they begged behind Agatha's hand.

"Go ahead, cum" as the few words of permission slipped off Agatha's tongue y/n fell to mush, rolling over her climax. Agatha supported y/n's weight yet didn't once stop even turning the vibrator up as she held it firmly to the students small bundle of nerves watching with a sly smirk as they got overstimulated, tears fell down y/n's face as the gag muffled her pleads for mercy.

"Come one show me how good of a slut you are for me give me another one baby" Agatha grunted out between her harsh trust, and within minutes y/n was releasing again. This time making a mess on the strap which sat nestled inside her from behind.

"You did so good for me sweetheart. How about we head home and get cleaned up" Agatha said softly praising y/n as she removed her cock from y/n's cunt. Cleaning up around them before pulling the soaking wet panties out of y/n's mouth as well.

"Let's head home and get you all cleaned up" Agatha said yet she watched as y/n's legged shook below them when they tried to take just a single step.

"Aww poor baby let mommy help you, looks like you won't be able to go out with Kate tonight you can't even walk" Agatha said with fake pity before helping y/n out of the classroom. So that they could enjoy their evening at home. Without any Kate of course.

[erenthology]

Eren Jaeger x reader (drabble)

‘Did it hurt?”

you turn to meet his eyes, confused by his question. “What? it felt goo-“

“When you fell from heaven.” he laughs at his own joke. “God, Eren you’re so tacky.” you say, pushing his body from yours. “Girls love it.”

There’s the reminder you needed. “right. So I’m heading out.” His whole body turns, “where are you going?” raising an eyebrow, trying to pull you back into bed. “I have plans.” you turn from his grip and start looking for your underwear.

He stands up and and puts his jeans on, “with who?” his tone makes you falter a bit. He’s never cared about more than how far you’d let him go in bed. At least he’s never given any clear indication.

You hesitate putting your clothes on for a second before answering. “Just meeting a friend”

“And who’s this ‘friend’?” He’s standing right behind you now which makes you jump. “Jesus, Eren. you can’t creep up behind me like that.” He stands unaffected, waiting for your reply.

“Just helping a guy from my class with our chem exam.” He laughs without any indication of humor. “You’re kidding, right?”

You feel the tension rising and do your best to avoid it, like you always do. “I’m tutoring, dude. Let it go.”

“I just fucked you senseless into my madress and you’re about to meet another guy?” he doesn’t even know why he’s raising his voice. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at himself for not having the guts to claim you as his.

Some people would call Eren arrogant, greedy, well, he kinda has the right to be. As the captain of the hockey team, he’s used to getting that he wants. that, and his looks. Flashing what he’s been told is a ‘very charming smile’ usually has him set for anything he wants.

Thing is, he wants you, and he thought he made it clear. I mean, are that blind to his advances? Other guys should know you’re off the market. He’s kinda made sure everyone knows. Except you apparently

The moment he raised his voice, regret filled his heart upon seeing your face. He feels he can’t stop messing up but the though of you meeting another man at when you’re giving of indications of being mad at him, is scary.

“Are you jealous?” You inquire, wanting to understand him. “I’m not jealous! It’s just..you’re mine.” even he looks confused as he says it.

You scoff at this, “you’re not my boyfriend, you have no right.” Maybe he doesn’t like the reminder.

He blocks the door with his body as you’re trying to exit. Frustrated, you sigh. “What are you doing? move.” you say, taking a step forward. “No.” he sternly says and means it. You bring your hand to slap him but he grabs it.

“We’re just fucking, right? so let me go, Eren. Let me go!” You struggle but his athlete body has no issue keeping up against you. “Don’t say that. you’re more than that to me.” At this, you stop fighting against him, looking anywhere but his face.

“I’m sorry.” You’re taken aback when he slumps his head on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned other girls. It was a bad joke.” You feel heat rising in your face. “What are you talking ab-

“Stop. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” he exhales.

“I don’t unde-“

“you know I like you.” he interrupts, looking exhausted. You feel a lump in your throat and hate yourself for it. “How Eren? you never show me.” your voice breaks as you say it.

“I never show you? he almost laughs. “We spend every living moment together, I chase after you like a goddamn dog, god [name] how could you not see how infatuated I am with you?” he’s breathing heavily now.

Maybe you have been ignoring his advances. Maybe actions speak louder than words, or maybe, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

“Mentioning other girls did upset me.” you decide to admit. This is your way of showing him you like him too, and he understands it perfectly.

“Yeah?” he smiles and you return the favor. “Yeah.”

“Want me to tell you how I jerk off to you and only you? Cuz I can get pretty romantic you know.” he pretends to be serious. Breaking out in laughter, “You can’t let a good moment pass, can you Eren?”

“Huh? wait, I can go into detail, I usually imagine you on to-“ you slap your hand over hush mouth. “Hush.”

He feels relief that you’re not upset anymore. Draping his hand over your shoulder, dragging you back in to his room. “You know, you look pretty hot when you’re angry.”

You deadpan, letting him go on. Eren explains everything so passionately, it takes a while getting used to. “I’m being for real. It’s hot when you talk back to me. Every time I look at you, you somehow turn even more beautiful.” he says in all seriousness, making you turn your face away from his in embarrassment.

he threads his fingers through yours, “don’t look away.” he murmurs, breathing you in through your neck, using his free hand to push your hips closer to his.

“I like it when you say stuff like that.” you confess, making him smile in your neck, scattering soft kisses up your jawline. “Then I’ll keep saying them.” He pulls back and thinks all the ways you make him fall into pieces, of the unsaid words he’ll make sure to tell you.

You carefully lift up your tangled hands and leave kisses up his wrist, taking initiative giving him the eyes. He lifts his face and locks eyes with you, message received.

Grabbing your jaw, he whispers, “wanna get fucked?” and you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Playlist

He runs his hand down his chest and twirls his finger in the air, “turn around for me, gorgeous.” You comply and make sure to graze your ass against his zipper, his eyes follow the movement and the air suddenly feel thicker.

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you?” sweeping your hair away from your back. He makes sure to take a mental photo when you turn your face back and smirk. You’re going to be the end of him.

“Strip.”

And so you do while his fingers trail from your neck down your lower back, until it’s playing in between your legs, “Jesus christ, this pussy.” His boner is prominent against you back as firmly holds you against him by your hipbone.

Wasting no time, he stops himself from making you come on his fingers and leaves a trail of wetness on your skin as his hands move away.

“You’re so wet, [name]. Do you like it when I touch you?” he’s being condescending. You hear his clothes hit the floor and excitement rushes through you. “I like it.” you exclame.

Taking a fistful of your hair, he brings his face into yours, capturing your lips with a promise. “Gonna fuck you so hard, baby.”

He pushes you onto the mattress and positions himself on top, locking his fingers into your hips. His touch is so rough, branding you as his. A slow grind of him entering you leaves you breathless, the stabbing pain of his size lasting for only a second before the rhythmical plunging of his cock turn into pleasure.

You lie weightless as his skin slaps against you, spreading warmth from inside out. He grabs onto the headboard and pushes even deeper, increasing the tension of pleasure with every stroke. It’s too much, you could swear he’s in your belly. Releasing a shriek, you squirm away, overwhelmed by pleasure. He grabs your chin abruptly, “you’re gonna take it.”

Running your hand down your belly, you stop to show him. “can feel you.” you breathe. His eyes follow your movement and the moments he realizes what you mean, he lets out the sluttiest grown and pummels into you with everything he has.

“fuck, fucking love fucking you.”

Throaty moans leave your mouth as he claims every inch of your body. He lifts your legs higher and leaves kisses along your foot. “Tell me who you belong to.” staring deep into your eyes, leaving you no place to hide.

“Y-you.” you hiccup as the force of his hips rutting into yours, moves your entire body. He holds you down, massaging your skin with rough hands. A pleased hum leaves his throat, “Yeah, and I don’t like sharing.”He’s so arrogant.

“Harder.” you plead, pushing your hands against his steel back muscles. A whistle leaves him and his face explodes into a grin, “a real freak aren’t you?”

You give him a lustful smile and he immediately obliges your demand and rocks his hips into yours even harder, skin to skin. Keeping his eyes on you to make sure you’re okay.

The way your eyes roll to the back of head head as you start touching yourself is indication enough for him. Each touch of his pelvic increases the friction against your clit . Your pussy is tightening up, spasming around his jock. And you feel his cock jerk inside you.

No words are needed, you both know each others bodies inside out. You come first and he gathers you in his arms as you scream and writhe beneath him, “shh, baby. It’s okay. so proud of you.” he whispers all tenderly, running his palms up and down your sides as you continue to pump his cock, making him release.

His head rears back as his cock jerks inside of you, spurting his cum into the latex barrier in between you. The high of coming together is like nothing else, his fist in your scalp and your hands scratching every inch of him you can reach.

As you both calm down, your rough markings on his abdomen turn into soothing touches while he inspect every inch of his handprints on your body. You’re a match to his flame, and he has no intention of letting you go.

“Staying the night?” he asks intentionally, this feels like a deciding moment between you two. “mhm,” you hum, “but just because your shirts are comfortable to sleep in.” you say, slyly.

Yeah right. “Had no intention of letting you leave anyway” he admits and gets up, throwing away the condom and begins picking out a shirt for you to wear. It already feels empty without him inside you.

“Hey, did you really have someone to tutor?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, why?” you answer thoughtlessly, making Eren snicker, “well you should probably let him know you’re not coming by now,” he reminds you.

“Oh shit.” you jump towards your phone and he just laughs, smacking your ass.

“best ass in the world.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

A New World: part 6

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 / Part 7 Part 8

A/N: The continuation is here! Enjoooooooyyyyyy!💙

Leo is 25, reader is 22 - 23.

Warnings: None so far💙

With the Chinese takeout half eaten still on the table, Leo and (Y/N) had gotten back to trying out portal ideas. Leo found himself with his katana in hand once again, trying to mimic this so-called Rise version of himself, swinging the katana above his head, saying the same words. And for yet another time, it didn’t work. No big surprise there. But that was not really what the blue turtle was focusing on at that point. Leo could not lie to himself, he found himself more focused on this different version of himself, instead of his task at hand. Was that really how other people saw him? And was that how (Y/N) saw him? A flamboyant, annoying, know it all, smart ass, who didn’t seem to care for much more than himself and his face. But then he was shown this 2003 version, who seemed closer to how he saw himself. Level headed, quick thinking, respectful, a leader. Was that also how people saw him? According to (Y/N), those was just the ones that he had seen by now. Leo wouldn’t help but wonder how many different versions of him was out there. It was disheartening, yet it made Leo curious. One question popped up in his head after another, all while he stood with the katana in head or sat in front of the markings on (Y/N)’s wall. At one point (Y/N) had even tried to speak into the walkie talkie on his shoulder strap. Leo found himself listening in anticipation, but they got nothing. Only static sound from a dead end.

The sun was ever so slightly, casting a pinkish color over the blue sky outside of the window. (Y/N) was getting tired and Leo was getting frustrated. If he had to listen to Rise Leo saying “Hachi machi” one more time, he would probably have a Raph-like outburst, or maybe even smash a window with his fist, not caring one bit if anybody saw or heard. That would be a first for Leo - not caring about human reactions to him, his form and his actions. It must be this world. It was messing him up. The most frustrated he had ever been, and it wouldn’t surprise Leo if it was just the nature of this world. Or the human in the living room with him, who encouraged him over and over again to swing his swords and hips like an idiot.

(Y/N) seemed to sense Leo’s frustration, and decided it was more than enough for one day. She probably should have stopped suggesting doing like Rise Leo, after the mutant in front of her rolled his eyes the first time around. At this point he was even struggling to keep his annoyed sounds to himself.

“We won’t get anything done without some rest”, she said, stretching with a yawn as she rose from the sofa. As much as Leo hated to admit it to himself, she was right, so right that Leo placed his katanas back on his shell without a word.

“I got work tomorrow, but on my way home I can stop by the comic store. Maybe they got something in there that can help us, or at least give us ideas”, (Y/N) said as she started walking towards her bedroom.

“I hope so”, Leo said, feeling a pit form in his stomach, linked to a possible truth he did not yet dare tell himself. Once again (Y/N) seemed to sense his feelings, yet she did not know what to tell the gigantic slider. Normally she would like to mentally boast about her knowledge of the leader in blue, but at that moment she had no idea how to help him. Whenever he was like this, it was usually his brothers or master Splinter that would talk him back to normal. (Y/N) had no idea what to say, so she said the only thing that seemed to fit the moment.

“Good night Leo. Sleep well”.

“Night”, Leo said, giving her a small node, before making his way to the guest room, thoughts and feelings seeming to weigh him down.

(Y/N) laid in her bed with the same feeling Leo had in his stomach. Leo was not exactly as (Y/N) had thought he would be. Yet again, he was stock in a different world to his own, separated from his brothers, with seemingly no way of getting home. It made sense why he was like this. Short tempered, agitated and of course frustrated. She would probably feel the same if she was stock in an alternative dimension. Yet (Y/N) had thought Leonardo would be more… level headed, calm, maybe even understanding of the world around him. Seeing it as a new opportunity to learn.

Turning onto her side, (Y/N) stared at the wall that separated her room from the guest room. Maybe Leonardo wasn’t exactly as she had thought he would be, yet she knew him enough to know what was going on. He was losing hope, and with that came anger and frustration. Therefore it didn’t surprise her when she heard him move around in the guest room.

Leo had a hard time sleeping. He just laid in bed, unable to sleep, with these pictures of these different versions in his head taking over his thoughts. It felt… strange. He felt strange. He was used to his brother talking about the possibilities of other dimensions, but he had never really given it much thought. Donnie had mainly talked about it in theoretical terms, doing his usual scientist thing, while Raph and Mikey had been all over it like comic book nerds. Two different approaches, yet they still talked about it.

But as Leo laid there, sleepless in the bed, he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking back to all the different versions of him that he had seen. He had many questions. So many more questions than he thought you would be able to answer. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but he was so curious. So therefore he soon found himself walking down the hallway, making his way to your living room.

All videos and DVDs were still laying out in the open, ready for you and him to watch them through again the next day. It was so easy for Leo to just grab one of them and put them on, before sitting back on your couch, watching them through one by one, letting the light from the TV screen being the only light lighting up the room.

Putting on the 2012 version, Leo sat back down on the couch, leaning his elbows onto his knees, taking in what he saw before him. Now, this Leonardo was also something he could recognize. A boy that really just wanted to prove how good of a leader he was, even with his insecurities in his way. He did all he could to- does that Leo have a crush on Karai?! No way! Leo had never had a crush, at least not this version of him… Mikey on the other hand, had the biggest crush on April- but it seemed like in this 2012 version, it was Donnie with the crush… And did Raph have a lizard girlfriend? Narh, this was too much. If Leo really wanted to watch other versions of himself, he shouldn’t watch this one. It was stupid! But, he never turned it off, watching in confusion as he saw another version of himself fall head over heels for a girl that wasn’t good for him. Leonardo couldn’t blame that guy too much. He understood where he was coming from. Being a mutant turtle, living in the sewers, knowing that he would probably never get accepted by the humans on the surface, given his form. He and his brothers had accepted at a young age that no one outside of the sewers would ever love them. They only had each other and master Splinter. But even after the NYPD had accepted them, there was still this strange feeling of never being loveable. Was that why he and his brothers sometimes would lash out at each other? Disappointment, frustration and loneliness? Maybe.

Leo found himself staring at the screen, when Karai came close to this other version of Leo, standing just above him. Was she going to kiss him? Someone would actually kiss him in a different universe? But no, it was another trap, and Karai left him on the floor.

“Don’t sweat it”, sounded a voice by the door. (Y/N) stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a little smile on her lips. Of course Leo had turned the TV up so loud that she had been able to her it from her bedroom. Leo jumped in embarrassment, grabbing for the remote to turn off the TV.

“It’s not what it looks like!”, Leo promptly said, fighting the hot feeling in his cheeks.

“I hope not”, (Y/N) said still with a smile. “Because that version of Karai turns out to be Splinter's daughter, there by your half sister”.

“And that’s why I don’t do girlfriends”, Leo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, that’s the reason”, she mumbled sarcastically, causing Leo to shoot her a glance. She was better not start acting funny. Leo was not in the mood for that, making it clear with the sting of his eyes. But as soon as Leo’s eyes met (Y/N)’s, it almost felt too much, causing the two of them to look away instantly, like negatively charged batteries that could not be next to each other. Unwelcome for both of them. As if neither of them was ready to be that direct.

Silence fell over the two of them as they tried avoiding looking each other into the eyes, thinking of what words would be best in this situation. (Y/N)’s eyes focusing on the floor she stood on, Leo’s on his forearm as his other hand ran along it, as if he was checking to see if something new was there.

“I’ve been thinking”, (Y/N) started, drawing Leo’s attention to her once more. “I have tomorrow off as well, so I was thinking I will go to the comic store and see if I can figure anything out”.

“What would that help?”, Leo asked, almost exhausted already.

Boy, this man was way more annoying than she had ever imagined he would be. So much for somehow getting to meet her favorite ninja turtles.

“You seem to forget that in this world you are the product of a comic book”, she said, trying her best not to sound too snappy. “Maybe the comic book store has a few ideas we haven’t tried out”.

Leo sat for a moment, thinking about her words. Though it was hard to admit, (Y/N) logic might be the best shot he got at this moment. Maybe the comic book store was his only hope.

“Okay”, Leo sighed, his throat feeling dry and thin. “Sounds like a plan”.

(Y/N) gave him a sympathetic nod, biting the inside of her lip. She hoped that her plan would work, because seeing her childhood hero sitting slumped over on her couch like that, made a pit grow in her stomach. It had to work.

And it was that plan in mind that (Y/N) and Leonardo went back to their respective rooms, hoping to get some sleep. But this time, as Leo tried to fall asleep, he had something different on his mind. This time it was the scene of the other version of him and Karai, almost about to kiss. That was a strange situation to see himself in. So strange he couldn’t tell how he felt about it. Almost unsettling. God, how he hoped (Y/N)’s plan was going to work. The faster he could get home and forget all about what he had seen.

—

Dr. Lilja took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. The wires before him had started to cross before his eyes and change colors every second. Probably a good sign to take a break from the wiring and take a look at programming. And so Lilja put his glasses back on and stood up, before making his way over to his desk with his large computer, tapping on the old computer keys.

Lilja had been working all day, with a constant flow of coffee at his side. But the coffee in the mug on his desk was now cold. Lilja took the cup in his hand, smiling down at the purple dressed turtle on it, with the words “#1 scientist” on it. It had been a gift from Agent Bishop’s son, after he had learned about Lilja’s long forgotten birthday. That sweet boy. It was a shame he wasn’t allowed in the lab anymore. Dr. Lilja really enjoyed having him around, bringing some much needed joy to his work. And even if he rambled on and on about ninja turtles, Lilja could never get mad at him. Not even when he accidently pushed one of the machine buttons with his Leonardo action figure, causing the machine to break down with a boom. Bishop’s son never intended to do anything wrong. The poor boy was so upset, fearing that Lilja had somehow been hurt. He did not care that his action figure was gone in the explosion. He only cared for dr. Lilja’s safety. It had been a long time ago since another person had cared for him like that. That boy truly had a heart of gold.

Lilja poured the cold coffee out in the nearby sink, before putting the mug under the coffee machine, pressing a button for another round. The machine started humming, while Lilja went back to the desk, taking a look at his computer program, measuring the thinning of air and atmosphere in the past 12 hours. Looking over the numbers, dr. Lilja starred in shock. Had he been drinking his coffee, he would have spit it out straight on the spot.

There had been a momentarily thinning in the air and atmosphere.

No way.

Lilja started tapping frantically at the keyboard, looking for time. Did it match up? How could it be possible? There was no way it could be possible…

The time matched up…

Dr. Lilja’s mouth stod open. Excitement and shock rushed through him, yet he sat frozen, staring at the screen.

He had to contact Agent Bishop.