#i lost my v card boys

[quinnifredtt]

To celebrate Caesar being dead for 2068 slutty, slutty, years. I too have been impaled

[eggtargaryenii]

EAST OF THE SUN | PART II

You were a disgrace to House Targaryen, the product of an impulsive wedding between a lost prince and some Essosi whore. You had little social capital within the Red Keep and few prospects for marriage, but that was alright. You were perfectly happy to stay out of the game of thrones, wed some politically relevant lord of Alicent Hightower’s choosing, and die in peaceful obscurity. Unfortunately for you, Prince Aemond had other designs for your future.

11.1k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. see part I for full story details. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

V. STRENGTH

Jacaerys was a child when he found out that he was a bastard and his mother was a whore.

Bastard. Whore. Even before he understood those words, he knew that he was different, somehow. That he was not enough. The lords and the ladies in the Red Keep always stared at him and Luke when they walked by, clinging to their mother’s skirts. They whispered whenever Ser Harwin Strong spent his afternoons with them in the training yard, putting wooden swords into their tiny little hands and teaching them how to swing. They covered their mouths to hide their laughter whenever his father, Ser Laenor Velaryon, took Jace out riding, steadying him on his pony. Pay them no mind, Jace, his father always said. They're only staring at you because you will someday be king.

So Jace closed his ears and focused only on Mother, Father, Ser Harwin, and Luke.

But the older he got, the harder it was to ignore the whispers. Bastard. Mongrel. Son of a whore. A wonder that his dragon egg even hatched. I've never seen any Velaryon who looked like that. He don't look like no Targaryen prince, methinks. Look at that hair. Look at those eyes. He can only be a bastard.

He can only be a Strong.

It wasn't all bad in his family, at least. Queen Alicent always looked at him with contempt, but his grandsire kept her from saying anything. Sometimes his uncle Aegon would bully him about it, but then he would leave Jace alone whenever he was teasing Aemond instead, so all Jace had to do was join him in making fun of the scrawny boy. And whenever Aegon and Aemond teamed up to point out Jace’s bastardy, you would stop both of them. You would gently scold Aemond and that would make him quiet, but with Aegon you would throw things instead. (Oops, you said once, after dropping the Seven-Pointed Star on Aegon’s foot. Sorry, my hand slipped. I'm afraid that book burns my heathen fingers.)

You always defended Jace like that.

Jace’s mother was a whore, and he later learned that yours was too. Maybe that's why you were so nice to Jace, even though the lords and ladies of the Red Keep scorned you worse than they ever did him. To Jace’s wonder though, you never seemed bothered by it.

It doesn't matter who our parents are, Jacaerys, you told him once. We’ve got dragons. We’re Targaryens. So long as we play our cards right, no one can ever touch us.

But what if my blood isn't enough? he would mumble. What if Vermax doesn't let me claim him? What if I cannot fly? He did not have silver hair and pale eyes, the features of a Valyrian king. Perhaps his bastardy and Andal blood made him less of a Targaryen. Could a mongrel tame a dragon? Could a bastard sit the throne?

Could a Strong ever take to the skies?

You smiled at him whenever he asked. You can do all of those things, Jace. I promise. I can't help you with most of them—but at the very least, I can help you learn to fly.

So he found himself on your dragon, seated behind you, his hands tight around your waist. I've never seen Wildfyre so happy to have someone ride him, you laughed. Not even me!

The dragon clicked and grumbled and turned his head to look at Jace, golden eyes approving. Then Wildfyre’s great wings started flapping, his roar thundering through the skies, and suddenly Jace found himself rising higher and higher, the muscles of the great creature rippling beneath him. King’s Landing was getting further away, shrinking; the clouds were getting closer, and Jace felt a chill as the cold damp of them soaked into his clothes. A freezing wind whipped through his hair, felt like ice to his bones, but he screamed and screamed with laughter, heart dancing as he clung to you.

Once you'd steered Wildfyre through the clouds, drifting into the warm twilight, you turned back and threw him a smile.

See? you yelled. Only a Targaryen could be so fearless on dragonback!

Fearless, you called him. He clung to this word: Fearless. I must be fearless. I must not fear my duty. I must not fear the succession. I must not fear the court.

In truth, though, Jace was afraid. He was afraid of being a bastard and he was afraid of losing the Throne, of ruining his mother’s claim. But you were so good at dispelling it all. You were so good at making him brave.

So when his family was sent to Dragonstone indefinitely, he nearly wanted to throw up—because it meant he could no longer see you. He sought you out soon after the decision was made, nearly running through all of Driftmark’s grounds before going to the Queen’s rooms, where he knew you would be.

He found you by Aemond’s bedside, talking to the injured child as he slept. Your fingers threaded through his silver hair; you whispered Valyrian into his ears, soothing and pretty and soft. Jace wished he could understand it, but his mother never spoke it around them. Ser Harwin, being an Andal, only knew the Common Tongue, and so that was the language that Jacaerys had inherited instead the language spoken by kings.

Jace begged to you in his lowly, mongrel tongue, ugly and stiff unlike the melody of Valyrian: “Come with us, please. I know you'll like Dragonstone. No one will stare at us there, no one will whisper. You'll be happier for it.”

He was not surprised when you said no. There was no way you would ever leave Aemond, but he asked anyway, again and again.

“I can't do this alone,” he kept saying. “I need your help. I don't know how to be strong like you. How to be fire and blood.”

You smiled at him. Stepped away from Aemond’s bedside, then took his hands in yours.

“You need not worry, Jace. Your mother will guide you.” Your fingers were so gentle on his. “You will grow into a fine prince, an heir befitting the Iron Throne. And when you do, you can come back to the Red Keep—and you can take me to Dragonstone then.”

Jace tried very hard not to cry. Ser Harwin had made a promise like this before he left his mother—that he would reunite with Jace someday, that he would stay by his side then. But he had never come back, had been taken by the fire at Harrenhal, and then Jace found himself mourning a man whom he was not allowed to grieve—because Jace was not allowed to be a bastard, and so Ser Harwin was not allowed to be his true father.

But he did grieve. He hated losing Ser Harwin, and he could not bear the thought of losing you too.

“You’re not lying?” Jace asked. “You're telling truth?”

He knew it was a childish thing to ask, but you seemed not to mind. You only threw your head back, laughed. “Yes, I'm telling truth! It is my dream to get away from the Red Keep someday, Jace.” You looked at him, almost amused. “I’m counting on you to save me from the Hightowers, my prince.”

And Jace could not help but think, as you departed for King’s Landing and he for Dragonstone, how much he longed to do that. How badly he wanted to take you away from the place that called you both the children of sin, from the people that called him a bastard and you a whore. He wished he could have sworn it as an oath, for then you would know how seriously he would take it.

I will become a fine prince someday, he vowed privately, watching your ship grow smaller and smaller, then finally as it was swallowed by the mist. I will become an heir befitting the throne. I am a Targaryen, made of fire and blood. I am a Targaryen, no matter who my father was.

He woke up everyday and repeated those words like a mantra. Tried not to think about the possibility of failure—tried not to wonder if the lords and ladies of the Realm would revolt should he ever sit upon the throne. If the throne itself would reject a bastard, its edges cutting into his mongrel flesh. It was a solace that he heard you every time he questioned himself: It doesn't matter who our parents are, Jace. Only a Targaryen could be so fearless in the sky. You have a dragon. You have a dragon. You have a dragon.

He had a dragon.

“I have you, Vermax,” he would murmur to the creature in his clumsy Valyrian, and Vermax would rumble at him, reassuring.

The years passed. You exchanged letters with Jace, kept in touch, but the distance felt like a yawning cavern between you still. The older he got, the less certain he became that you ever thought about him the way he thought about you. After all, he was a child when you left; you were nearly a woman grown. Thinking back on it, you had obviously treated him like a child too, holding his hands and trying to soothe his fears with empty words.

Grow up, Jace, he told himself, every time he received a raven and found your letter shorter than the last. Forget about it.

And he did, for a while. He focused on his studies, his swordplay, his duty to the Realm. Several name days passed, and suddenly he was a man grown. His mother was speaking to him of potential betrothals, of Starks and Tyrells and the noble daughters of other great houses. His stepfather was telling him to see the whores in Spicetown since he refused to disgrace any of the servants, and their silks and perfumes were dizzyingly fragrant as he bedded them. The serving maids of Dragonstone and all the distinguished ladies who visited laughed and smiled pretty around him, fawning over his status—for even if he was a mongrel bastard, he was still a Crown Prince.

Jace found himself utterly disinterested in all of it.

Curiously, in some of those moments, he would suddenly think about your letters—shorter and shorter, fewer and far between, but coming still. Hello, cousin. How fare your studies? I find myself the object of whispers once more; what an exciting life people think I must lead. Last month I was leading Ser Criston astray and making him break his oath of celibacy; this month I am carrying Prince Aemond’s child. I wonder whom I will seduce with my temptress ways next month. Perhaps it will be Septa Falyse, or the High Septon himself!

Jace could hear your laughter in your words: carefree, lighthearted, just as you always were when it came to your reputation. But it left a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking of all those rumours, of all those people speaking ill of you. Of knowing he could not return the favour of defending you as you once did him, now that the sea separated the two of you.

The whispers, though, were not something a Crown Prince should be worrying about, and you were not someone an Heir should be thinking about.

Grow up, Jace, he kept telling himself. Forget about it. Forget about it. Forget about it.

But when the day came that he finally had to return to the Red Keep—he could no longer forget.

As he boarded a ship to King’s Landing for the first time in years, he found himself remembering the words you once spoke to him when he was a child—the ones he clung to for years. They felt so fitting now that he’d learned of the Hightowers’ designs for you, of what the Hand intended to do.

You will be a fine prince someday, you'd said. Take me to Dragonstone then. Save me from the Hightowers, my prince. 

He would see you again, Jace thought. And if you so much as breathed the word, he would do everything that you asked of him all those years ago: steal you away from the Red Keep, protect you from the petty court that so often mistreated you, give you immunity from the family that spurned you both. Because now that he was a proper prince—a Targaryen, black hair be damned—that was something he could do.

He could save you from the Hightowers.

VI. JUDGEMENT, REVERSED

The coming of Princess Rhaenyra and her party was met without announcement, nor fanfare.

Were it not for Jacaerys’ letter to you, you would not have even known that they were going to be in King’s Landing. The tourney was coming up soon—less than a fortnight now—but their presence had nothing to do with it. Supposedly, Prince Daemon had some urgent business to discuss with the King and the rest of House Targaryen. Even Princess Rhaenys had joined them. What would be important enough for the Lady of Driftmark to leave her home was a mystery to you.

Until such matters made themselves clear, however, you would not worry over them. You were only thinking of meeting Jacaerys again. Although you'd received many messages from your first cousin over the years (his preferred raven now knew you well enough to squawk your name), letters were simply not the same as seeing one in person.

And of course it was impossible to see Jace in person. Queen Alicent became oddly bitter every time you requested leave to visit Dragonstone, and Wildfyre was always mysteriously chained up after such conversations. Aemond, as well, despised his half-siblings too much to meet with them during any of your visits to Spicetown, and he never let you go there yourself either.

You are a young woman, and it would be unsafe for you to venture out alone, Aemond always said. If you must go to Spicetown, I will accompany you and guard you from any… unsavoury characters that you may meet.

You had the sense that he was referring more to his nephews than any bandits or rapers, for it seemed not enough to him for guards from Dragonstone to be sent to accompany you.

You looked forward to seeing Jace again, unfettered by neither Aemond nor the Queen. You wondered what the awkward and insecure little prince was like nowadays, what sort of person he'd become. But as you had not heard any word of Rhaenyra’s arrival, you did not go to receive him at the gates—so you spent the day like you would any other. You broke your fast alone, neglected your needlework, neglected your prayers, and resentfully studied household stewardship. You loitered in the throne room, watching the Hand and the Queen settle various petitions. Today, it was mostly smallfolk worried about the price of food, a couple of petty land disputes between minor houses, and an interesting request from House Tyrell to legitimise a bastard—some knight who had served in the Dornish Marches. For some reason, Ser Criston kept looking at him with disdain.

Then, as a reward to yourself for your hard labour, you went down to the training yard in the late afternoon.

Your favourite pastime was watching Aemond practise his swordplay in the afternoons. You used to go for moral support, to encourage him whenever he was beaten—which he always was, because of his previously short and scrawny stature—but now it was always to encourage him whenever he clobbered his opponents, for he always did.

Ser Criston used to scold you for your attendance, saying that a young lady should busy herself with other activities. “You should be studying the Seven-Pointed Star right now, my lady,” he once said, probably at the behest of the Queen. “The violence of the training ground is not something that a woman should be witnessing so often in any case. Bloodshed is usually upsetting for the fairer sex.”

“I know not what you are talking about, Ser Criston,” you replied. You clapped Aemond’s shoulder then—drawing murmurs from onlookers, because hand-to-shoulder contact between cousins was scandalous if you were the one initiating it—and added, “there is nothing more important to me than witnessing Prince Aemond’s improvement on the battleground.”

Ser Criston gave you both questioning looks. “And why would it be so important to you, my lady?”

“Well,” you replied cheerfully, “Aemond and I have an agreement that if ever I am charged with murder, I will prove my innocence via trial by combat and he would be my champion.”

Ser Cole gave you an incredulous look. “Do you plan to commit murder, my lady?”

“No, Ser. It is merely a contingency in case someone should frame me for it. You never know what might happen with all the plotting and scheming in this Realm.”

You were actually speaking truth here: you and Aemond did come to this agreement soon after Prince Daemon Targaryen was taken to trial for the murder of his first wife, which he won by combat. You then went into an anxious spiral about what you should do if you hated your future husband and he was stupid enough to fall off a horse and die like Rhea Royce. Who would save you from a similar accusation?

Aemond immediately volunteered himself, perhaps too eagerly.

“You need not worry about me, Ser Cole,” you said upon seeing his perturbed face. “I wouldn't actually ever commit murder myself. You would know, since Aemond would prove my innocence.”

Aemond’s lip curled. “She would never be found guilty of any crime in the Realm with me as her champion,” he affirmed. “I think it is fair that the lady should be allowed to watch the sword representing her, is it not?”

Ser Criston could hardly deny a royal prince, so he merely sighed and picked up his morning star. “Whatever my prince wishes,” he relented. “Come—let’s give your lady a show.”

The knight had not since protested your presence on the training grounds. Ser Criston hardly even glanced at you today as you approached, weaving through the sparse crowd of knights, squires, and spectators while he and Aemond began their warmups. You were searching for a spot that would serve as the best view of their match, and it was pure accident that your gaze happened to land on an unfamiliar form among the hustle and bustle.

It was not the clothes that struck you—for they were plain, a nondescript black cloak over an equally dark tunic—but his face. Dark curls framing finely carved, fair features. An aquiline nose, a pair of delicate lips curled into an interested smile as he spoke to some companion you could not see. He looked like a Northman, possibly a Stark or an exceptionally beautiful Blackwood. You wondered if he was one of your potential suitors.

Naturally, you had to go introduce yourself. Purely to show your hospitality as a lady of House Targaryen, of course.

“Excuse me,” you said, in the clearest and prettiest voice you could manage. “Pardon me for the interruption, Ser, but I don't believe we’ve ever met.”

The stranger turned to you, his expression quizzical, but reflecting pleasant surprise. As soon as he laid eyes on you, his brows lifted—and a brief silence passed as you took in each other’s appearances.

You were only certain once you saw the three-headed dragon brooch on his cloak.

“Cousin?” the two of you asked simultaneously.

“Seven hells, Jace, I didn't recognise you at all!” you blurted out. You then glanced at his companion for the first time. Sure enough, it was his little brother—still young, but certainly not the small child you remember. “Luke! Gods, you've grown up too! I had no idea you’d arrived!”

Jacaerys made an irritated expression that was comically familiar despite his comically unfamiliar face. “The reception to our arrival was… subdued. Not etiquette to the standard that I would have expected of the Red Keep.”

“Ah. A folly of the Queen, I'm sure.” You smiled at them both. “Forget about her. I'll give you a proper welcome after this match—take you around the old haunts and whatnot. Wildfyre will want to say hi, too.”

“Match?” Jacaerys asked, but he was quickly answered by the violent clang of steel against steel.

Jace’s noble countenance dissipated as he moved into the crowd, beckoning Luke to follow. An excited grin spread across his face as he watched the two figures sparring furiously—as if he were again a child, spectating as Ser Harwin or the other knights of the Kingsguard fought with one another. Ser Criston and Prince Aemond were in another league altogether, of course—perhaps not in skill, but in savagery. They moved viciously and lethally, not bothering to hold back. The swing of Criston's morning star carried brutal weight, but Aemond was himself a lithe weapon, his body honed for the sole purpose of killing. You were unsurprised when his blade ended up pressed against Ser Criston’s throat.

“You'll be sure to win the tourney next week, my Prince,” said Ser Criston, but Aemond did not smile.

“I don't give a shit about tourneys,” he said, and you had to hold back a snort. Perhaps not when he was younger, but he absolutely did give a shit about tourneys nowadays. Not the pageantry or the petty social trappings, of course—but the reputation. Prince Aemond would be loath to seem craven or weak before the knights of the realm, and so he had no choice but to sign up for every tourney in King's Landing and crush every opponent he met.

Your amusement wore off when you noticed Jace and Luke beside you—how tense they'd gotten, how Luke was inching behind Jace. You could not blame them. Aemond had never forgiven Luke for taking his eye, no matter how many times you counselled him to lay it aside lest his rage drive him to madness. It chilled you how he spoke of Lucerys when reminded of it.

Even now, you discerned a subtle anger in Aemond’s body—tightly controlled, but there nevertheless—as he approached.

“Nephews,” he said, “have you come to train?”

Not even a greeting, you thought. Well, he does take after his mother in some ways.

“I'm afraid we’re only here to visit today,” Jace said, and you were surprised at the clean but sharp edge to his words. You did not know he could sound so much like a prince. “We must first attend to urgent matters before we’ll have any time for leisure.”

“I wasn't aware that the Crown Prince would consider swordplay a leisurely activity,” Aemond remarked. “Those princes who are truly of fire and blood, at the very least, do not.”

Fucking hell. Not even two minutes and the bastardy talk had already started. There was fury in Jacaerys’ eyes, and you stepped in before Aemond could fuel it.

“Jacaerys must be one of the few men of fire and blood who are also capable of diplomacy,” you said dryly, “as I know you are, Aemond, when you wish it.”

Aemond gave you a careful look, seeming more amused than anything else. “I wish it when my lady does.”

You smiled, placated. “I always like diplomacy. Hospitality, too. I'll be showing Jacaerys and Lucerys around before our family meets tonight—you are free to join if you wish.”

From the way the two brothers tensed, it was obvious that Aemond was absolutely not free to join. Your cousin had the grace to decline: “Thank you for the invitation, my lady, but I will give you the space to host them. You are better suited for it than me.” He glanced at Jacaerys, and said, “Do make sure you return her to me before it gets too late. I would worry about my cousin if she were out after curfew.”

Jace gave him a look that was as curious as yours.

“You need not worry. You know I would not let any harm come to our cousin.”

Aemond hummed, giving you a meaningful glance that you completely did not understand. “I’ll look for you at dinner.”

“I’ll be… sure to find you?” you replied with uncertainty, still reeling from his words. Return her to me. Aemond left before you could ask him his intent behind the phrase—because he always spoke with intent.

Jacaerys, himself, also seemed confused. “I didn't know my uncle was courting you,” he said, and you gave him a startled, bug-eyed look.

“He isn't,” you said quickly. “Queen Alicent would sooner die than let me besmirch the reputation and honour of her son.”

The elder prince frowned. “He was certainly acting like it, getting all possessive.”

“I suppose Aemond never liked it whenever we spent time with you,” Lucerys observed, looking somewhat anxious.

“He didn’t,” you now remembered. “Don't feel too bad, Luke. He was always like that even before he lost his eye to you.” Aemond loved to monopolise your time as a child and grew sullen whenever someone else had your attention—as if you were being wrongfully taken away from him and would never be returned. Sometimes you felt like a toy being fought over, tearing at the seams. “I guess he never grew out of it.”

“Childish of him,” Jace observed, watching his uncle’s back as he readied himself for another match. “Makes me inclined to take up all of your time tonight.”

You snorted. “That’s childish of you, too. Come on, let's go—at least catch up with me before you and your uncle maim each other.”

“I wouldn't do that to him,” Jace protested.

“I know. It was only a jest,” you reassured him. But an uneasy pit grew in your stomach as you thought of the way Aemond carried himself just now—how none of that lethal violence left his body as he approached his nephews.

It struck you then that you weren't so sure if the reverse was true.

VI. THE SUN

When you were alone with Jacaerys, his presence felt oddly familiar.

It was unusual, given that the prince was so different now. He had grown, and you had expected things to be strange and stiff between the two of you, but the conversation came easily once Luke departed. Jace’s laugh was the same as you remembered. His smile was the same. He rode on dragonback with you, his arms firm around your waist and his front pressed tightly against your back, and—

—that didn't feel the same, actually. You tried not to think about how he felt against you, how he had obviously grown lean and hard with muscle. It made your stomach flutter in a way that felt suspiciously similar to your reaction to first seeing Cregan Stark at court. You concentrated on the memory of the awkward, insecure boy with whom you had grown up, whom you could have never fathomed attraction to. Jace was the heir to the throne—you absolutely could not consider him desirable.

Also, if your stomach kept twisting like that, you would surely steer your dragon wrong and make all three of you crash.

Wildfyre, at least, did not see him any differently; he allowed Jace to ride him without complaint, and once you all landed outside the Kingswood, he kept clicking and prodding at your cousin with his massive snout, making the prince chuckle.

“I think he missed me,” he said.

“I’m not surprised. You were his favourite.” You glared at your dragon. “Traitor,” you groused in Valyrian, and Wildfyre snorted in response. You sighed. “Look at that attitude!”

“I think he's quite lovely,” Jacaerys said, voice smug. Wildfire crooned, as if in agreement, and snaked his long neck around Jace’s back, rubbing against him like a cat. You gave them both a dirty look.

“Sometimes I think you claimed him behind my back,” you complained, even though you could feel the bond between yourself and Wildfyre, warm and alive like a shared heartbeat. It had been present since the day you were born, as if it had formed while you were still in the womb. Still, there was a period of time before your official claim where Wildfyre adored Jace so much that you were convinced he would abandon you.

“You know that's not true. He's like a puppy around you.” Jace patted Wildfyre’s snout fondly, and the great old lizard chuffed like a dog. You saw the resemblance. “Vermax hatched in my cradle and he’s not nearly so affectionate with me.”

“Vermax is a sweetheart.”

“To you.” The corner of Jacaerys’ mouth lifted. “Remember how he nearly roasted Aegon the one time? And he never let Aemond near him, either.”

“Dragons are influenced by the feelings of their riders,” you pointed out dryly. “Vermax only detested them because you did.”

“Perhaps.” Jace scratched Wildfyre, fingers scraping against glimmering, emerald scales. The spoiled creature rumbled in a way that nearly sounded like a purr. “Are you saying that you’re as fond of me as Wildfyre is, then?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You were glad that the two of you were alone and outside of the city. If anyone overheard you, or glimpsed your reaction, your reputation would have just been shattered forever. Worse yet, Jacaerys’ amused smile looked terribly handsome to you at that moment. You could not help but think, Well, I wouldn’t mind being pet by you either.

“I suppose your company is tolerable,” you said lamely.

Jace, of course, was not at all fooled. He turned to Wildfyre and said, in what you guessed was meant to be the Valyrian language, “We both know better, don't we?”

Wildfyre clicked in agreement, but your own reaction was not nearly so kind.

“My god, Jace,” you said, wincing. “Was that supposed to be Valyrian?”

He grimaced. “Was it that bad?”

“Terrible. What on earth is your mother teaching you? She's so fluent.”

“She never spoke Valyrian around us when we were children,” he explained, “so I never picked it up. Mostly, I learn from the maesters.”

“The maesters?” you repeated, appalled. You slipped into your native tongue, the timbre indignant: “No wonder you speak so poorly. You can't learn properly from maesters. You need to learn from someone who lives and breathes in the language!”

“There aren't many people in Westeros who do,” Jace replied in the Common Tongue. The two of you began to volley: Jacaerys in the language of Westeros, and you in the language of the old Freehold.

“Move back to the Red Keep. I'll teach you.”

“You’ve tried already. You were a poor tutor, remember?”

“You were a poor student.”

“That doesn’t change your own abilities. Could you even explain any basic grammar to me right now?”

“...you don't need to know grammar to talk.”

“No, but you need it to learn.”

“If I talk at you enough, you’ll pick it up eventually.” You gave him a mournful look, then tested his ear for your mother tongue: “However you do it, you should make more of an effort, Jace. You are a Targaryen, and a dragonlord besides. Valyrian is the language of your forefathers. How can you not know it?”

Jacaerys went quiet. “You know I have always tried,” he said, “to live up to my heritage as best as I can. I have neither Targaryen nor Velaryon features. People look at me and they see an Andal…”—he hesitated—“that is, they see a Strong. I have to show them I am more than that.”

Guilt gnawed at you. “Then I'll help you,” you said gently, in the Common Tongue this time. “Though truthfully, neither the language you speak nor the colour of your hair changes your blood.”

“Only you and Mother have ever thought so.” He looked away. “Apparently people used to think that my dragon egg wouldn't even hatch.”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Yet it did, and every unbonded dragon responds to you. Vermax and Wildfyre can both attest to your claim and heritage.” You gave him a reassuring look. “Anyway, cheer up. You have more talent at the language than Aegon, silver hair be damned. His Valyrian is shit awful.”

Jace laughed. “Is it really so bad?”

“You’ll see during the meeting tonight. Aemond and I will force some Valyrian out of him—look forward to it.”

His smile faded. “I need to talk to you about that. The meeting, I mean.”

You made a face. “You know I don't want to speak of politics right now, Jacaerys. I'd rather talk about literally anything else, in fact.”

“It would be unwise to do so.”

“I live every day trying to be wise in matters of the court. Please let me be unrepentantly a fool for once.”

Jace gave you a sorry look. “Could I spend the rest of the day in leisure with you, I would. But it would be a disservice to you not to tell you, cousin. It is why I asked for time alone with you in the first place.”

“You wound me, Jace. I thought you asked it for you missed me.”

“Cousin.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s hear it.”

He breathed deeply. “There will be an announcement, one that involves you. In truth, the Hand said to keep the matter quiet until we could meet as a group, but I didn't think it was right, and neither did my mother. The Hightowers are trying to hide from you what Prince Daemon discovered.”

You gave him a curious look.

“What did he discover, then?”

VII. DEATH

The world felt so distant.

The Targaryens were seated around the Small Council table. King Viserys was absent, his mind addled with milk of poppy, so the Hand sat in his seat while his daughter stood at his side. As if in interrogation, you were at the other end of the table—the object of everyone’s scrutiny—clad in a neutral blue.

It was a powerplay. Jacaerys had predicted that the Hightowers would do it, and he tried to help you prepare. You had planned together what you should say, but the Stranger had stolen your words, your focus, your wits. Otto Hightower spoke and his voice sounded far away, as if your ears were stuffed with cotton. Your heavy breath and pounding heartbeat drowned out all other noise, thrumming alongside your bond with Wildfyre. It was singing with a pain to match your own, for the feelings of a dragon are always influenced by their rider—and he, too, had loved your father.

Otto kept speaking. You did not know why he was even here, really, nor Queen Alicent. Princess Rhaenys sat to your left without Lord Corlys, because this was a Targaryen matter—a grief shared only by those of fire and blood. The Hightowers were outsiders.

“...we must allow ourselves time to grieve your father,” the Hand said, “but the matter of his inheritance should be quickly settled.”

“What?” you asked, voice faint. This is what Jace said would happen, you thought. I should not be surprised.

But here you were—speechless, stupid.

The Princesses Rhaenys and Rhaenyra bristled. Prince Daemon, who sat on your right, openly scoffed. Helaena looked down, and even Aegon had the grace to keep his eyes on the table. He was feckless, a lecher, and he always quarrelled with you—but he was not cruel. He was not cut from the same cloth as his grandsire.

Even he disapproved.

Jacaerys was next to you, standing tall like a sentinel. Aemond watched from across the room, near his mother, in a shade of green so dull that it was nearly black—but green nevertheless.

Why was he not beside you instead?

“Please,” you managed to say, voice quiet. “I would like to hear the news from Prince Daemon himself.”

“As you should. This was not news that should have been delivered by a Hightower.” The Rogue Prince did not bother to hide his derision. “I was treating with the lords in Pentos, and they brought to my attention news of your father’s ship—the one that disappeared when he sailed for Lys. It came to light recently that pirates and sellswords accosted it. They sacked the ship, sank it. Then they took your father for ransom, but apparently he died not too long after from his wounds. Here is the proof.”

And sure enough, he laid before you what was unmistakably your father’s sword. It had been presented to him by the Lyseni while he was being hosted by the First Magister: a weapon from the former Valyrian colonies of Essos. Your mother had been by his side when he received it. In Westeros, she had been considered a common whore, but in Lys, she had been his beloved concubine—yes, a former bed slave, but respected nevertheless. She had thrived in the Lysene court.

You took the blade into your hands, unsheathed it halfway. It was pure Valyrian steel: ancient ore folded many times over, otherworldly hues rippling in daylight. Unlike the Valyrian swords kept by the Westerosi houses, this one had a name carved into it by a Qohori smith: Siglitanor. A word borrowed from Lysene Valyrian, a name chosen by your mother. The letters were as red as the Qartheen jewels encrusted into the guard, which was fashioned with Volantene elegance.

It was, through and through, a sword of Essosi antiquity.

For nearly ten years, you imagined that your father was somewhere in Lys, carrying this sword and speaking its language every morning, every night. Avy jorrāelan. Avy raqan. Ñuha ābrazȳrys. He would whisper these words into your mother’s ear in a courtyard somewhere, their plates filled with persimmons and mangoes and peace. He went to Lys and loved her too much to return. Yes, he abandoned you, but it was to take care of your mother, who deserved nothing less.

And now—now, this sunlit vision was turning to dust before you.

“Your Pentoshi friends—who told them this news?”

“Myrish sellswords who drank too much and bragged of their exploits. The Pentoshi thought I would like to know of their crimes against the Iron Throne and brought them before me. They're being held on Dragonstone now.” Daemon, for a moment, seemed reflective, and the sharp edge of his words softened slightly. “Your father was a skilled diplomat. It was his work that kept the Triarchy in line for so long. He died, and they soon after turned on us—and everyone else in the Narrow Sea. Pentos felt the loss of him as much as we did.”

“Yes, your father was quite the man,” the Hand agreed. “He was also skilled with his coin. He amassed great wealth in the Iron Bank, all profit from the Narrow Sea and the Free Cities. The Iron Bank was never forthcoming with information until now—they thought him alive and kept this from us—”

The coin is mine, Jacaerys coached you to say. It is my inheritance. I will go to Braavos myself and oversee the wealth. By the laws of the Realm, a daughter should inherit her father’s lands and wealth in the absence of a son.

“What happened to my mother?” you whispered instead, still staring at the sword. It shared its name with the mythical blade forged by Azor Ahai, tempered by the blood of his lover. Your mother had been a fervent follower of the Red Temple; when your father asked her to name the sword, she chose to honour her faith.

Would R’hllor really have let her die?

“Yes, your mother,” Lord Hightower said. “Your mother is gone, of course—the Iron Bank was willing to make the assumption after seeing the sword and the prisoners. And as such, yours is the only name that they have listed in ownership of your father’s coin—”

“We may speak of the Iron Bank in a moment,” you said bluntly, interrupting him. “What happened to my mother?”

Queen Alicent breathed in deeply. She clearly meant to chide you for your tone, but Prince Daemon answered before she could, himself unbothered.

“The sellswords mentioned that a woman was present,” Prince Daemon relayed. “She was saved by one of the guards, and the two of them were never caught. The sellswords did not chase them for ransom—they thought her a common whore.”

Then a whore is not such a bad thing to be, you wanted to laugh. Though you had never thought so anyway, because if your mother was a whore, then surely a whore was something to be cherished and pampered. You had always imagined her in a beautiful manse across the sea, hanging on your father’s arm. The two of them were supposed to be laughing in the sun as they drank Myrish wine and wondered how you were doing. They were supposed to be making plans to return to King’s Landing someday, to see you when they received news of your betrothal. You wrote to them everyday when you were a child, asking them what sort of man who they'd like to see you marry. You sealed the letters and asked the sailors passing through Blackwater Bay to take them to your parents in Lys. I don’t know where they are, you admitted to the seamen, but it can't be hard to find a Targaryen prince. The sailors would agree, pat your head, and give you a persimmon or a mango or an orange. You did this day after day after day—because surely your mother would reply to your letters eventually.

Surely, your mother would never forget you.

“Is she alive?” you asked.

“Perhaps. Likely not. The Narrow Sea was a brutal place before I conquered it.”

“But if she survived, where would she have gone?”

“The ship was overtaken at Bloodstone, so likely Tyrosh.”

“Not King’s Landing?”

Daemon gave you a long look. “I will warn you against any wishful thinking, girl.”

It wasn't a wish, you wanted to say. It was a promise. Your mother loved you. She wept when she was forced to leave. Someday I'll come back, she said in Lysene Valyrian, kissing you on the brow. When your grandsire is long dead, I will return and see you again—R’hllor will assure it. And until then, He will protect you.

Your father was supposed to love your mother enough to stay with her. Your mother was supposed to love you enough to someday return. But now your father was a skeleton on Bloodstone, and your mother was lost at sea.

And you—you were all alone.

“I grieve for your loss, my lady,” the Hand said. “But we must turn to the matter of the Iron Bank. That coin was grown from the wealth of the Crown, and as such, it belongs to the Crown.”

“You really have no shame,” Daemon sneered, but the Hand did not flinch.

“The animals of the Reach are plagued with sickness this year. Food has risen in price, and the smallfolk are suffering. Time is of the essence. If the Crown could find the coin to alleviate their burden…”

“The Crown has its own coffers,” you said quietly. The Hand paused, as if surprised by your resistance.

“The coffers are not limitless.”

“The coffers should be managed well enough for hard years.” Your eyes burned hot, but they still met Otto Hightower with hard steel. “If the Master of Coin has misstepped in his stewardship of the Crown’s wealth, I see no reason why I should pay for it.”

“It would not be your wealth being paid. It is wealth belonging to the Iron Throne. Everything from the coin in Braavos to the sword in your hands—”

You could not help it: a laugh escaped you. “You mean to take even my father’s sword from me?”

“It is an heirloom belonging to House Targaryen, so it should be inherited by a man of House Targaryen. Dark Sister was passed to Prince Daemon and not to Princess Rhaenys, was it not? A lady has no use for a sword.”

“An heirloom?” You could not help it—you rose to your feet and held up the blade, and it shone true in the light of the sun. Helaena and Luke visibly recoiled at the bare steel, while Jace watched you carefully. “You think this is one of the swords brought over before the Doom? You think a Mormont or a Stokeworth would have a sword like this? Tell me, Lord Hand—can you read the name engraved here?”

“There is no need, my lady, for you to lose your temper—”

“It says Siglitanor. Do you know what it means? Can you even pronounce it?”

“The name has no bearing on its owner. You are fixating on irrelevant matters, my lady. I caution you not to be so irrational. The issue at hand is the inheritance of the sword, not its name.”

“The name bears relevance to the inheritance, Lord Hand,” you ground out. “It means Lightbringer, named after the sword wielded by the Lord of Light, R’hllor.” Alicent shifted visibly at the mention of your heathen god, her brow knotting, and pressure mounted in your throat, your heart. “No Westerosi heirloom bears the name of this sword, nor its craftsmanship—you may check with the maesters yourself. The sword was a gift bestowed upon my father by the Gonfalioniere of Lys. In his absence, it belongs to my mother, and in her absence, it belongs to me.” You laughed. “You wish to gut me of everything my father left to us, with no respect to our history or our rights.”

“Your father misunderstood your rights, as do you. He represented the Iron Throne in every excursion to the Free Cities, so all wealth and treasures he acquired should be returned to the Iron Throne. And let me remind you, young lady—when the law is misunderstood or transgressed, there are consequences for the criminal.”

You stared at him, incredulous—for while the Hightowers have never loved you, they have never openly threatened you.

The words hung heavy in the air, oppressive to all. Aegon was practically withering; Jace, tenser than you'd ever seen. Aemond appeared unbothered, his expression precise in its neutrality, and this cut deeper than any words from Otto Hightower ever could.

No one dared speak until the Queen cleared her throat.

“Father,” Alicent interjected, watching you carefully. “I do not think it wise to act rashly. The lady is our kin, and we should allow her some grace. Perhaps this is best solved through a formal petition. Let us give the girl a chance to grieve, then present her case to the Throne—if she will even want to make one afterward.”

“And who will oversee the petition?” you asked carefully, trying to control your voice.

Alicent delicately replied, “I will see to it that you are given a fair trial.”

“A difficult task,” you parried, “given that the Hand has overseen most petitions in the past half year while the King has been abed with illness.”

The Hand finally showed his displeasure, his tone severe when he said, “The Queen, in her grace, is offering you a means to avoid punishment for the theft of Crown wealth. It would do you well to show some gratitude.”

You tried desperately to suppress the strangled noise in your throat. Someone touched your shoulder. You glanced to your side; Jacaerys was looking at you, his dark eyes as calm as stone and earth, and you breathed deeply, the knot in your chest untangling some.

“Of course,” you finally replied. “Thank you, my Queen, for giving me the chance to defend myself from these accusations. I shall accept your proposal.”

Alicent nodded. “We find ourselves right now in grief and high passions as we mourn the loss of your father, but we will need time and prudence as we settle this dilemma he left.”

You nearly laughed. Grief is your excuse? you wanted to spit, for it was clear to you—and likely most people in the room—what was going on.

Only Prince Daemon had the nerve to voice it.

“Do you need time to settle this dilemma,” he asked, “or time to regroup? Clearly, you thought the girl would yield to your demands today while you blindsided her with grief. It appears you now need a new strategy.”

The Queen’s jaw ticked. “Good-brother, you misunderstand me. Inheritance law is complex and often at odds with compassion. It would be cruel to wrest away her father’s belongings from her”—Alicent glanced at your sword—“but at the same time, the laws of the Realm must be respected.”

“Fuck the law,” Prince Daemon snapped. “My idiot cousin got himself killed at sea and his sword was acquired by force. It belonged to the sellswords for years before I acquired it by way of gift. It now belongs to me”—you gave him a watery, furious look, but it soon dissipated, replaced by surprise—“and it is now my decision that it should belong to my cousin’s daughter.”

You stared at him, uncomprehending. Mollified. Daemon spoke then in Pentoshi Valyrian—not so different from Lysene Valyrian, but inscrutable to speakers of the Dead Valyrian taught in Westeros: “Viserys and I grew up alongside your father. We knew him well. He would have wanted Lightbringer to go to you—not these vultures.”

Daemon switched back into the Common Tongue as he took his leave, pale eyes cold on Otto Hightower.

“I will see you again during my niece’s petition, Lord Hand.”

VIII. KING OF CUPS, REVERSED

You did not go to dinner that night.

After the meeting in the Small Council room, you could not wait to get away from your family—Targaryens, Velaryons, Hightowers, and all. You kept yourself poised as you excused yourself, but you broke into a run as soon as you were out of sight, your father’s sword grasped tightly in your hand.

You knew it was a childish thing to do, to run away to Blackwater Bay and cry your eyes out. It was nearly as childish as the way you had just spiralled and crashed and burned in front of the Hightowers in that room, living up to every judgement placed upon you. A heathen who worshipped the wrong kind of god. A perpetual foreigner. The pathetic daughter of a lost whore and a dead prince—someone of such little social consequence that the Hand saw you as easy prey for your coin.

In the back of your mind, there was a growing list of things you meant to do to fix it all. You needed to ask Prince Daemon what rhetoric Otto Hightower was likely to bring up during the petition, for no one had politically jousted with that man more than he. You needed to steal all the ledgers of your father’s ventures in the Free Cities before Tyland Lannister could think of having them confiscated. Perhaps you should even appeal to Princess Rhaenyra for her aid, since her husband was going to be supporting your petition.

Most importantly, you had to think of how to maintain your standing with Queen Alicent while fighting for your inheritance. It would not do to win your petition now only to be met later with harm.

It was a long, intimidating list. You knew you should go back to the Red Keep and attend to it. But now the sun was getting low, a violent blood orange in a dimming sky, and you were still weeping bitterly on the rocky shore. You thought of all the passing ships you'd watched from this spot, all the persimmons and mangoes you cradled in your hands as you hoped your letters would reach your parents. Telling yourself that one day your father would return, and your mother not too long after.

You didn't even know why you were still in this fucking castle if your parents would never come back.

Prince Aegon found you like this: wailing into your arms, cussing out the Seven, cussing out the Iron Throne, cussing out Otto Hightower, shivering because the light was low and now you were getting cold.

“Hello, dear cousin,” he greeted, slurring. He made his way toward you, stumbling through the rising tide before stepping onto the rock you were seated upon. He reeked so badly of Arbor wine that you stopped crying just to wrinkle your nose.

“Gods,” you said, revolted, as he sat down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulders. The last thing you needed was his grimy hands on your ass, which seemed to be their favourite spot to rest. “Get away from me, Aegon. I'm in no mood to humour you today.”

Aegon was so drunk that he yielded instantly when you pushed him: he yelped and tumbled onto his side, landing in a puddle of seawater and weeds. You would feel bad for him if you, too, weren't covered in the stuff—the tide had grown high and now your feet were soaked in it.

“I came to comfort you, and this is how you thank me?” Aegon whined.

“Since when have I ever wanted your comfort?”

“Since you are now in need of it,” Aegon said. He pointed at you. “You are in a miserable state.”

“Thank you for your astute observation, my prince.”

“Don't be so cold. Let me console you. Or if you won't let me console you, at least join me in my cups”—he held out a wineskin, which you suspected was nearly empty anyway—“and we can toast your father.”

“Keep my father’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spat. “Is this your way of taunting me, Aegon? Rubbing salt in the wound that your grandsire and mother just left?”

“Gods, no. You think I wanted any of that to happen? You were not the only person who ran away as soon as that meeting ended, cousin.” Aegon uprighted himself, his knees knocking against yours. You did not push him away this time. “My grandsire—he’s not a very kind man, is he? And as for Mother… well, you know how she is. You are not the first person to be on the receiving end of either of their… machinations.”

“Are you trying to console me? Because it feels more like I’m meant to be consoling you.”

“I would not be opposed if you did,” he wheedled.

“Well, I'm not going to. Go away, Aegon.” You squinted at him. “How did you even know where to find me?”

“My dear brother was worried about your absence at dinner, and only grew more fretful when the Strong bastards said they had not seen you either. He was nearly in tears, sniffling pretty like the Maiden, when he begged me to help him find you.”

Despite yourself, you guffawed at the image that Aegon had just conjured up.

“He said you'd either be feeling sorry for yourself in the dragonpit or you'd be feeling sorry for yourself by Blackwater Bay. I did not feel like wading through dragon dung, so I chose to look here while Aemond combs the tunnels.”

“Well, you've found me. Now you may go.”

“How am I to leave such a sorrowful, beautiful maiden alone?”

“Quite easily, actually. I may throw you into the sea if you don't.”

“No matter—I will swim back to you.”

“With the state you're in? Ser, you will drown, and I will be accused of murder.”

Aegon shrugged, opening his wineskin and taking a deep draught. “That's all well and fine. I'll be free then of the Red Keep, and you would walk away scot-free. You would not be found guilty—simply request a trial by combat, and my brother would be your champion. He will surely slay any foe who challenges you.”

You gave him a curious look. “Aemond told you of our private joke?”

“Err, no? I just think it’s quite obvious the man would kill for you.” Aegon gave you a confused look. “My brother makes jokes?”

“Yes,” you replied, but then you thought more about it. “No. It’s more like I make japes, and he smiles stiffly, and at times he humours me.”

“Ah, that sounds more like him.” Aegon took another swig of wine. “He’s always been a mirthless lad. I've no doubt you will be solely responsible for any joy in your union when it is formalised. Speaking of which, why has my mother not yet announced a wedding feast for the two of you? Surely she cannot mean to let you give birth to a bastard. She may not love you, but she would not disgrace you either.”

You put your face into your hands. “I cannot do this today, Aegon. Leave me. You may report back to your brother and let him know that I'm feeling sorry for myself out here.”

“No, my lady, I told you—I cannot simply leave.”

You gritted your teeth. “Why not?”

Aegon flailed wildly, wine swishing in his hand. “What if you walk into the sea while I'm gone? I would never recover from it. No, cousin, I will keep you safe until my brother emerges from the dung pit.”

“How chivalrous of you. I will not be drowning myself any time soon, though—I must first face your grandsire in that petition.” You quieted at the thought. Aegon’s buffoonery had distracted you for a fleeting moment, but now you were thinking once more of all the dread and the grief and the fury. “Seven hells. Give me that.”

Aegon smiled at you as you snatched the wineskin from him.

“See, my lady? There is nothing that a drink cannot fix.”

You snorted. “Will it fix this inheritance business for me?”

“I mean for it to fix mine.” Aegon began to pick the seaweed out from his breeches. “Perhaps if I drink myself blind often enough, my mother will disinherit me. Then Rhaenyra and her bastards can sit themselves on that blasted chair and I'll be able to live in peace.”

You were so wrung out that, for once, you could not find it in yourself to dance around the topic of high treason. “The Hightowers will never let you get away from the Iron Throne,” you said plainly. “They’ll never be secure unless you are suffering in that chair. Or your brother, if I should first drown you.”

“Please, cousin. Don't make me beg.”

A laugh escaped you despite yourself. Aegon did not bother to hold back his own amusement, giggling openly.

“You know,” Aegon said, after his chuckles died down, “it may not be an option for me, but you could do it.”

You raised a brow. “What? Throw myself into the sea?”

“No, no! No drowning on my watch!” Aegon threw a piece of seaweed at you in reprimand, which you dodged. “I mean to say—you can run. Fly away on dragonback. Go to Braavos and get all your coin. Exile yourself in Lys and spend the rest of your life in decadence. God knows”—he groaned, sounding wistful—“it is what I would do.”

You considered his words. You had always stayed here for your father, and for your lack of coin and supporters. But your father was now dead, and you had so much coin that you had no need for supporters. “I suppose I could.”

“You'd need to go now,” Aegon said. “I would not tell a soul. Not even my brother.”

“Why help me?” you asked him, suspicious. The two of you had never been all that friendly. Close, perhaps, in the way that non-stop quarrelling would make two siblings close—but not friendly.

Aegon shrugged, as if unsure himself.

“Perhaps the day will come when I will wish to go to Lys and enjoy all the beautiful women there, far from the throne,” he slurred, “and when I do, I shall call on my dearest cousin to host me.”

“Surely, brother, you would not disgrace your sister-wife like that,” a third voice interjected. You and Aegon nearly jumped, seawater splashing around your feet. When you turned around, you saw Aemond—smelling strongly of brimstone and smoke, but not dung, you were glad to notice. He did not seem nearly so happy, giving you a long, severe look. “You were not at dinner.”

It all came back, then—the green tunic, the place next to his mother, his unreadable expression as he watched your humiliation in that council room. The memory robbed you of all your mirth.

“My apologies, Prince Aemond,” you said bitterly. “I lost my appetite when I learned of my father’s death and your grandsire’s machinations to steal his wealth.”

Aemond did not reply immediately. Aegon loudly cleared his throat, then somehow got onto his feet. He swayed from the wine and stumbled in the darkness of nightfall, but managed to walk away nevertheless.

“Well, now that you have each other’s company,” he announced, “I shall take my leave. Take care not to let our cousin walk into the sea, brother. It would break my heart.”

“You tried to walk into the sea?” Aemond asked sharply, and you sighed, tired.

“No, Aemond. It was only a jape. A bad one.”

“Hm. My brother does have a poor sense of humour.”

Aemond offered you a hand, and you studied it warily. When you did not take it, he finally said, “I did not know what my mother and grandsire planned to do in that meeting. The news of your father’s death was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you.” A pause. “Though I would wager you had warning and counsel from the blacks.”

“Jace warned me because he cares about me. I did not receive help from Rhaenyra's faction—do you really think I would care to involve myself in petty spats over the throne?”

Aemond hummed. “I know my nephew has great love for you, but it was not him to whom I was referring.”

A blinding, hot flash of anger rendered you speechless for a moment—how dare Aemond drag succession politics into this? But the rage quickly passed, giving way to clarity. For it must have been a great sum that your father had in the Iron Bank, if Otto Hightower desired it. And if it was great enough for him to seek, then it was also great enough for Princess Rhaenyra to do the same.

Aemond watched as you pondered this, your eyes dropping to your soaking, seaweed-ridden feet.

“Fine. You're right. But why didn't you come to my side once you realised what was happening?” you asked quietly. “During that meeting, I mean.”

“It would not have helped you.”

Yes, it would have, you wanted to cry, I'd have felt better for it. But Aemond was too smart and too serious to entertain such childish notions: you knew he was speaking in purely strategic terms.

“No,” you admitted, “but it would not have hurt, either.”

“Alicent cares greatly about the appearance of unity among our family. Were I to break it, she would cease to trust me, and it would be that much harder for me to help you.”

“And how would you help me?”

“What would you want to be helped with?”

You looked up at him balefully. The money, the inheritance laws, the petition—there was no way that Aemond could do anything about any of it, not without alienating his mother. You had half a mind to ask him to throw you into the sea after all, but based on his earlier reaction, he would likely lock you up in your room if you made such a jape.

With nothing else in mind, you simply said, “I don't want to give up this sword.”

He arched his brow. “Is that all?”

“Yes. Well—no.” You brought a hand to your temple. “It’s more complicated than that. I do want to give up this sword, eventually. But to someone worthy of it.”

You stared at Lightbringer, trying to imagine it in someone else’s hands. Hands that did not belong to your father, but someone who loved you as much as he.

Laughable, as the Hightowers would never let you marry for love.

“Here is what I think, Aemond,” you started. “If this petition works out in my favour, all of my suitors will suddenly be from houses allied with your mother’s faction. I will be made to marry a lord who is in Otto Hightower’s pocket, and he will inherit my father’s sword—and all of that coin in Braavos, too.”

Aemond considered it. “It is fair speculation. You do know how my grandsire thinks.”

“Well, I was raised by his daughter.” When Aemond did not argue with you, you bleakly asked him, “What should I do, then? When I am married to a man who intends only to steal from me, on behalf of the Hand?”

“You could always pray for your lord husband to fall off his horse. I would make sure to prove your innocence after the tragedy.”

You stared at him, as gobsmacked as Aegon was earlier. “Aemond, did you just tell a joke?”

“Would it bring you any comfort if I said no?”

You made a noise that was something between a laugh and a sob. When Aemond offered you his hand again, you took it—standing with his help, shivering as your body was exposed to the night wind. A cloak smelling of smoke and ash was placed on your shoulders, and you gratefully accepted it.

“You no longer wish to marry,” he guessed, watching you fumble with his mantle.

“I wish to marry someone of my choosing.” You found that no words in the Common Tongue could quite capture your anguish, so you relied on your Valyrian: “I did not mind the idea of being used by your family, so long as I could live safely. But I cannot bear the thought of anyone using what once belonged to my father. It is”—your voice broke, but you did not cry—“all I have left of him and my mother.”

“I understand,” Aemond replied, his Valyrian soft, lacking its usual cunning edge. “Focus on your petition for now. Worry not about your betrothal. I will handle it.”

You closed your eyes. You had no idea what he could do, but you trusted him. Aemond was brutally efficient in matters of court and power; you could rely on him.

“Alright,” you said. “I shall count on you.”

The nighttime breeze swept your body again; you shivered, still wrestling with the cloak. Aemond evidently tired of watching you struggle; he brought up his hands and straightened the mantle out for you.

“Are you really thinking of leaving?” he murmured. You blinked, not understanding. “You and my brother—you spoke of leaving for the Free Cities.”

You gave Aemond a long look. His expression was inscrutable, but certainly not happy. There are few people in this world who would worry about me, he had said not long ago. And you had told him, not long after: Just know that you can always write to me, no matter how far away I am.

If you left for Lys, that would no longer be true. You imagined Aemond alone at court, dealing with whatever designs his mother and grandsire had, with only his drunk brother and strange sister for allies—and you, an entire sea away, missing every letter the sailors were meant to give you.

“I could not,” you confessed. “Even if I tried, I think I would eventually have no choice but to return to you.”

He hummed. “Good. I fear I would not have been as kind as my brother in conspiring for your escape. You might have found yourself in trouble with me.”

“Another jest from you?” you remarked. “What a strange day this has been.”

Aemond’s mouth curled, but he did not reply. He merely fastened his cloak of ash around you until it was tight around your neck. And for a moment, in the strange and unreliable light of the moon, his smile looked almost unsettling.

END PART II

notes: oh god this chapter was so long now that I'm looking at it posted as one piece (versus ao3 where I split it up). you are truly my ride or die if you read all that. but anyway, below are some notes to help clarify parts of this chapter in case you are confused-

clarifying ages:

There's 2-3 year gap between the reader and Aemond/Jace

Jace in the first scene is initially 10, and you are 13 (text refers to you as “nearly a woman” since it was ye olde times, but you were really both kids)

In the present day, the characters are all in their late teens/early 20s.

timeline and other notes:

This chapter (and story overall) diverged slightly from show canon; Corlys Velaryon has not yet gotten injured so the Driftmark succession petition has not happened. This is still the blacks’ return to court for the first time in years though, hence why some of the events played out similarly to that episode.

Jace feels a little more mature in this chapter than he did in the end of S1 (he is closer to how he behaves in S2), and that is because of two things: (1) he is aged up slightly so he is naturally more mature; (2) I thought he was hotter in S2 and wanted to write about that version of him instead lol

[daddy-dotcom]

Bet on Me

Spencer Reid x Sugarbaby Reader

Spencer Reid never loses, especially when the prize is you.

Summary: Reader is a sugar baby for Reid's opponent, and he bets a night with her if he loses to Reid.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v, bj, swearing ig?

----------------------------------------------

This wasn't the first time he'd done this. Granted, the Boss only did it when he was losing a lot of money and needed to sacrifice his "lucky charm." However, this was the first time he bet me and lost, to a man half his age nonetheless. I never liked being used as a gambling chip, but he lost so rarely that I didn't dwell on it too much. The man he was playing only gave us his first name, Spencer, and damn was he good. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was counting the cards. He was slightly cocky, but not in the way that the Boss's usual opponents were. He knew he was good, but he wasn't arrogant. There was an air of confidence to him, almost as if he was guaranteed to win, which was exactly what he did. I'd never seen the Boss this upset before, practically throwing a tantrum on the casino floor. But Spencer won fair and square, more specifically, he had won me. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have bet on me as a last resort against some other equally sleazy old man. He would have won and I wouldn't have to worry about the idea of sleeping with a man who I didn't know and who had zero respect for boundaries. While the Boss wasn't exactly in his prime anymore, at least he paid me well and we had strict boundaries in place. But whenever he bet on me, I had no idea what I would be getting into. Something about Spencer being young immediately eased my nerves, especially since he was so lanky and boyish. He was probably close to my age, but you would never be able to tell because he looked like he was barely old enough to be gambling. 

"Just go on and get it over with, doll, I'll pick you up in the morning," the Boss said irritably. 

I made my way over to Spencer, who was the only one left sitting at the poker table. He sat quite awkwardly for a man who had just swept the entire table. All of the confidence from before had completely melted away. 

"Well it looks like I'm yours for the night, Spencer. I'm (Y/N) by the way." 

I leaned against the poker table, making sure to show off my best assets. If I was going to have to spend the night with him, I at least wanted to have some fun. Between my day job and being a part-time sugar baby, I didn't have the time or energy to date much. So I planned on taking full advantage of the situation. Even if I didn't end up sleeping with Spencer, there was something about him that made me want to get to know him. 

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)" he said, and I could tell he was avoiding my gaze. This was most likely because from where he was sitting, his line of sight was directly at my boobs. 

"C'mon Spencer, let me buy you a drink."

"Shouldn't I be the one buying you a drink?" he asked, looking puzzled. 

"Looks like you need it more than I do, pretty boy." I said with a smile as I pulled him by the hand towards the bar. 

------------

"I'm not a hooker by the way. Just putting that out there . . ." I said, suddenly matching Spencer's awkwardness. 

"I figured as much," he replied before taking a sip of his drink. "You're very well dressed and your jewelry is definitely real. Which could mean you're a high-end prostitute, which isn't uncommon for Vegas, but your relationship is too close for him to just be a repeat customer. So I assumed you were either a sugar baby or a trophy wife." 

"Wow. You got all that just by watching us?"

"It's kind of my job." 

"You a PI or something? What kind of job allows you to pick up on all that Mr...?" 

"Reid. And it's Dr. Reid actually. I work in the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI."

"No kidding! You? The lanky yet mysterious card counter who hasn't looked me in the eye this entire conversation, works for the FBI?"

“Yes and for the record, I wasn’t counting the cards. . .at least not this time,” he said with the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

Feeling a little tipsy, I replied by saying "you know, around here that acronym FBI usually stands for Female-"

"Body Inspector, yes I'm familiar with the joke. I grew up getting my head dunked in the toilet by bullies wearing those cheap souvenir shirts from Circus Circus" 

"Ah so you're a local too?"

“Yes ma’m, Las Vegas born and raised,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. I took the opportunity to ask him another question. 

“So do you have me figured out yet, pretty boy?” 

“Well I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he said while finally looking me right in the eyes, “so that leads me to the conclusion that you are a sugar baby.” 

I could tell the effects of the alcohol were starting to creep to the surface because he wouldn’t break eye contact with me and his body began leaning towards me when he spoke instead of away. He was less guarded and almost flirtatious, in his own adorable way. 

“Ding ding ding, you got me Dr. Reid. I, uh, work as a lab assistant during the day but being his sugar baby is helping with the crushing weight of my student debt.” 

“I’m sorry that you have to spend your evenings with that jerk, (Y/N). That was mostly my motivation for accepting his offer to bet on you. I hope you know I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of you or anything, I just wanted to give you a night off from your boss.” 

My gaze softened and I tried to push away the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes. 

“That was the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time, Spencer. Thank you,” I said, gently placing a hand on his thigh. 

I saw a wave of crimson begin to appear on his cheeks and he flashed me a smile before saying, “It was my pleasure. I don’t mean to brag but I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, all of this to say I’m pretty good at cards.”

“Wow! Handsome and smart? Guess you’re not the only one who hit the jackpot tonight,” I said while raising my eyebrows, “but I don’t see a ring on your finger either, Dr. Reid. You’re alone at a bar in Vegas with a pretty girl, so I’m assuming you don’t have anyone waiting for you back home?” I asked, suddenly very interested to know if this smart and adorably sweet man was single.

“So you’ve been profiling me too,” he said with a chuckle, “to answer your question, no I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend or anything like that,” he said, almost enthusiastically. Taking that as a sign, I quickly asked, 

“Would you want to come upstairs with me? I just feel so comfortable talking to you and technically you still have the rest of the night with me,” I said with pleading eyes. 

“Um . . .sure!” he said with both hesitation and excitement, which I’m assuming is because his desire is going against his better judgment as an FBI agent. 

“You agreed to that awfully fast for someone who works for the FBI.” 

“I’m not worried. I’ve been watching my drink the entire night, and I’ve been profiling you, remember?” 

At this point, we were both beaming at each other like a couple of idiots; I had to stop myself from yanking this man’s arm making a run for the elevator. 

———

"It's nice to be with a guy who doesn't have an AARP card for once." 

"Actually, it’s a common misconception that the service is limited to people 50 and over. You can apply for a membership once you turn 18," he rambled, causing me to giggle. 

"You're cute," I replied, placing a hand on the inner part of his thigh. We stayed there for a moment, our eyes fixed on one another with a blush creeping up on Spencer's cheeks. I could see his Adam's apple bob as he gulped, and I could almost swear the crotch of his pants looked tighter than before. 

"W-we don't have to do anything you know," he said, finally breaking the silence. 

"I know. . . " I said as I leaned in close, "but what if I want to?" 

I took a chance and pressed my lips to his. I let them linger there to gauge his reaction before going any further, not wanting to scare the poor man away. After a few seconds, he didn't pull away and I took the quickened pace of his breathing as a sign to kiss him more. I began slowly at first and his lips followed my lead. To my surprise, he brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in my hair and I moaned into his mouth at the contact. Our kisses quickly became hungry and passionate, and there was no denying the now obvious bulge in his pants. I moved my hand from his thigh and began rubbing him over his pants. This time, he was the one who let out a groan, the sound of which motivated me to force my tongue into his mouth. He tightened his grip on my hair, but I pulled away to tend to his growing erection. He remained seated on the edge of the bed as I dropped to my knees in front of him. 

"Y-you don't have to-" he stuttered with wide eyes. 

"Spencer, it's okay, I want to." 

He didn't protest further and I began to unbuckle his belt. I unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear just enough to let his cock free. I wrapped my hand around the base and began to jerk him, causing him to hiss at the contact. I teased him a little by licking the tip of his dick before I placed his entire length, or as much of him as I could fit, in my mouth. 

"Oh my god” he groaned, with his eyes screwed shut. I continued to bob my head up and down his cock, his hand finding that familiar place in my hair where he began to tug again. My. pace was purposefully slow, dragging out each suck to earn a moan from Spencer. It was thrilling to be in control of the situation for once. As I sped up my motions, his hands were practically ripping the strands from my head. The wetness pooling between my legs was becoming too much to ignore, so I released my grip on Spencer's cock and used his thighs to push myself back up from my spot on the floor. 

"Spencer. . ." I whined, planting myself onto his lap, "I need you."

I took his hand and guided him to the heat between my legs. I shimmied up my dress to allow him to feel the wetness that now soaked my panties. We both let out a gasp as his fingers became slick at the touch. 

"It's been a while since anyone's made me feel like this," I admitted. I felt safe in his presence, especially since judging by his reactions, he doesn't do this very often either. 

“I-I don’t have a-," 

“Don’t worry, I’m 90% sure we’re both clean and I’m on the pill. Trust me I’m not trying to scam you for child support or anything.” 

I could feel his body relax underneath me after reassuring him. I pressed my lips to his once again, our kiss more sensual and intimate than before. Seizing the rare opportunity to be on top, I had one hand on his shoulder for support and the other on his dick to line him up with my entrance. It was almost dizzying how good it felt as I finally sank down onto his length. 

“Oh god, Spencer.” 

I buried my face into the crook of his neck, completely overwhelmed by the few of him stretching me out. Once I was comfortable, I slowly began rocking my hips. We were a mess of breathy moans and strings of profanities escaped my lips as I began bouncing on his cock. 

“Fuck Spence, you you’re so big.” 

It’s always the skinny, shy guys.

“(Y/N) you feel so good,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up in an attempt to fuck me even harder. After observing his reactions to my every move so far, I knew he wasn’t going to last long. But he was fucking me so good that I couldn’t bring myself to care. 

“Yes baby keep fucking me like that.” 

His hips continued with their relentless pace and our bodies slammed against each other again and again. It wasn’t much longer until his thrusts became sloppy and he finished inside of me with one last resounding groan. We stayed that way for a while, just grateful for the intimate connection. Once we finally caught our breath, I spoke up.

“Well you still have a few hours with me Dr. Reid, what do you propose we do?” I said with a smirk.

“We should probably go to bed, I have to catch my flight back to D.C. in the morning. . . but maybe after we do that again.” 

“I’m all yours Spencer.” 

————————————————————————

Not 100% confident about this one but lmk what y'all think :) thanks fro all the love so far besties

[neurotic-sinkhole]

oh boy another hermitcraft court case. watched it and my brain exploded like a cuboom firework. the things i've seen as a real life judicial aid and law school student will never compare to the trial.

so here is my analysis of said case:

- glad the judge kept the plaintiff going first! he is right, the defense doesnt know what case to argue against without knowing the case to begin with

- while i love the addition of a jury, typically juries are selected before either side makes a single argument. theres also a whole jury selection process that takes a while, but seeing how one side chose to not prepare anything (which is a real defense i've seen used in a real case before) maybe this was for the better lol

- also, to my knowledge most of the jury (in some way) was a part of the case - i mean the defense even brought this up. the jury was never going to be impartial. however, what confused me more was the usage of "hermitcraft" in the overarching hermitcraft v mumbo case. this verbiage implies not just beef or xb, but the whole server are claiming harm from mumbo's actions.

- furthermore, outside the courthouse there was a banner boasting "xb vs mumbo" but bdubs said "hermitcraft vs mumbo" so i'm going with the words of the judge and what would be on the theoretical court record. this continues to make me wonder what "hermitcraft" classifies as. is it a sovereign nation? is it a state? is it a confederacy of hermits? if hermitcraft, in this specific case, entailed the server as a nation then this should have been a criminal case.

- i need to stop thinking about this aspect of the case or else my brain will explode but i desperately hope for some case law defining this in the future.

- similar to the zombiecleo v docm77 case, defense's lack of witnessess was alarming. defense having only one witness in comparison to the plaintiff's three is severely unbalanced, it only gave the defense a third of the oppurtunity to prove mumbo's innocence (not that they were claiming mumbo didn't commit the actions accused of him)

- i appreciate the judge not allowing for party reps/witnesses to act as agents of the case (objecting, arguing, ect). when bdubs asked jevin where his bar card was i actually felt tears welling in my eyes from laughter.

- the plaintiff's case did a good job in throwing a lot of stuff at the defense. however, i feel they spread themselves too thin with having so many elements to the case (vandalism, noise pollution, enviromental pollution, lost wages, ect), and if they had focused on one or two aspects their case would have been much stronger

- specifically i think they should have focused on the enviromental damage perspective. the other "charges" focused too much on the social ramifications of actions taken by both mumbo and "hermitcraft"

- as for the defense, i think they could have completely gone with the defense of "freedom of expression".

- every single charge could have been easily knocked aside with this defense. it would play to bdubs' (american) brain's inherent obsession with freedom of speech, protest, assembly- just the first amendment overall. oh, the bricks? that was a protest. it is mumbo's right to protest against actions he does not agree with. the noise? the "toxic" enviroment? that's mumbo's expressed creative thoughts. it's his own individual style. he's expressing his own thoughts.

- i think the defense was right on about the train of the food prices too high, but they focused on it too much.

- i also appreciated their use of their singular witness in cub- it is absolutely right to point out there are no written peramiters for zones of builds and such.

overall i think this trial was slightly more on par with a traditional american trial than previous tall claims court cases!! i think bdubs' judgement was just. and most importantly, i can't wait for more cases to analyse (:

[kivino]

PROFESSOR!NANAMI KENTO X READER HEADCANONS

my jjk masterlist || my cod masterlist

Word counter - 900-ish

Tags/Warnings - NSFW - MDNI; professor x student relationships; reader is an academic weapon (or not really); p in v freak nasty; oral (reader receiving); afab!reader.

A/n - my first time in a long time writing smut, so i hope it’s decent ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ please, like and reblog if you liked it, i’m trying to find my jjk audience （╹◡╹）♡

Professor!Nanami, who went into education instead of pursuing a job of a salaryman and surprisingly, found it rather fulfilling, helping students, explaining the nuances of classical literature to them and igniting the passion for his subject of study among them.

Professor!Nanami, who’s eyes keep lingering on you, despite his effort to force his gaze away from you, so beautiful, incredibly insightful and hardworking, pages upon pages of messy notes under your fingers.

Professor!Nanamix, who recognizes your efforts, fond look in his eyes when your answer to his question strikes a chord within him, making his heart swell in his chest. “Good job. I see you’re already familiar with the material, are you?” He asks, arching his brow at you, as he puts his hand on your desk for some support, his tall form towering over you, making you hold your breath from a simple glance of his hazel, almost golden eyes.

Professor!Nanami, who, upon seeing you through the glass doors of the study hall freezes in his place, his eyes taking in your every movement, down to the flutter of your eyelashes and quick fingers turning another page of your notes.

Professor!Nanami, who lets out a shaky exhale when you bite your pen, lips squishing against the tip of it so deliciously, oblivious to your infatuated observer.

Professor!Nanami, who can’t refuse you a conversation after class, getting lost in your eyes, dissecting your mannerisms and patterns of speech in his thoughts during his evening rides back home, just to find some sort of sign that you might like him more than as an educator.

Professor!Nanami, who can’t help but palm his hardening dick through his slacks when remembering your absolutely stunning doe eyes looking at him with such eagerness and fascination, when talking about his subject.

Professor!Nanami, who clasps a hand over his mouth and shuts his eyes tight, imagining it’s your thumb swirling around his red tip, and it’s your fingers clasping around his painfully hard member as you nip and kiss the soft skin of his exposed neck.

Professor!Nanami who, when noticing at your messy hair and ragged breathing after you’re late for class, has to squeeze his hand into a fist, blunt nails painfully digging into his skin just to keep him grounded.

Professor!Nanami, who feels nothing but shame, pining for his student like he’s some kind of pubescent high school boy.

Professor!Nanami, who just can’t say “no” to you, when you ask oh-so-nicely to help you and explain the final assignment privately, in his office. “Of course you can come in for a consultation. This card here has my office hours…” he nods eagerly, pulling out his business card holder from the inner pocket of his discarded jacket.

Professor!Nanami, who’s oblivious to a fault to how you’re leaning over him when asking for help, your soft hand connecting with his shoulder, fingers gently rubbing his arm and sending electric sparks right to his brain.

Professor!Nanami who makes you see stars on his tongue alone, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, fingers spreading you folds, soft lips leaving rough bites on your thighs and suffocating himself in you.

Professor!Nanam, whose hair you keep tugging for leverage, whose face you keep grinding into, desperate and hot from his passionate touches, aching for release, that he’s so nicely working you up to with his fingers and his mouth.

Professor!Nanami, who has you cross-eyed, fingers toying with your clit, halting your attempts to squirm away from his touch, overstimulated and needy, making your whole body twitch with uncontrollable surges of pleasure as you forget any words, but the name of your favorite professor.

Professor!Nanami, who wishes he would’ve taken you out on a nice date, perhaps a candlelit dinner at his favorite place, before having you with your legs spread out, whiny and sensitive on his office table, as his hand muffles your (very loud) moans. But what’s done is done.

Professor!Nanami, who marvels at the way your pretty tits bounce with each thrust of his cock in your drenched pussy, lewd, pornographic squelching and your pleasure-filled yelps filling the dark space of the room.

Professor!Nanami, who just can’t keep his mouth shut, when he’s looking at you. “Ah, hah, y-you’re, a-ah, doing so…m-mh! so well for me…” Nanami whispers, hot breath fanning over your ear, as he dives back, leaving wet kisses all over your neck, some of them swelling into rough, stinging markings, reminders from him.

Professor!Nanami, who keeps driving his cock inside of you, reaching so deep you’re barely able to form a thought when you all can feel is his broad tip giving such sweet kisses to your cervix.

Professor!Nanami, who after multiple hours of you getting to know each other so deeply and intimately in his office, your captivating smell still in his mind, gingerly asks you, while buttoning up your shirt: “Would you like to get dinner sometime with me?”

“Are you inviting me on a date?” you clarify, not able to hide your incredulous tone when asking this question. You knew that he was a gentleman, but had no idea he would want it to be something else…more than you imagined. Or he just felt obligated to do that, in which case…that’s worse.

“Precisely. I…it’s embarrassing to admit, really…” you mentally scoff. You just saw each other naked with every possible consequence of that also happening, and he’s…embarrassed? “But you’ve caught my eye. So, I’d like to invite you out. See where it goes.”

Well, how can you say “no” to your favorite professor?

check out this masterlist for more jjk fics or send me a request/comment!

[solarsturniolo]

Sub Matt abcs or hcs (maybe one or two where reader uses a vibrator on him)

Sub!Matt Headcanons

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @simplysturn @lacysturniolo @mattslolita @megamett44-lover @creamoncreamoncream2 @soursturniolo @meg-sturniolo

a/n: this is absolute garbage lmao sorry in advance

Warnings: semi smut / cursing (maybe? didn’t proof read) / sex !!!!!!!!!! / mentions of overstimulation / p in v / no protection / the end has me clawing my hair out of my scalp

• He’s a good listener, he always has been. That doesn’t change in the bedroom. He wants to please, he wants to be good for you, he wants you to guide him

• He LOVESSSSS the pet names, ‘pretty boy’ being his favorite

• It takes some convincing to use toys on him, but when he finally lets you use the vibrator he loses any and all sense of dignity that he once had. It shocked both of you seeing how much he enjoyed it. Although he’ll never bring it up first, when you ask if he wants to use it he is more than willing.

• Matt goes feral for your tits. Practically begging you to suffocate him with them. He loves to suck on them and hold them and feel the weight of them in his hands. He loves feeling your nipples hardening under his touch or his tongue.

• And on the rare occasion that you titty fuck him, he is a whining mess. He loves to watch his cock get lost in the valley of your breasts, feeling the warmth of your skin engulfing him. It drives him absolutely crazy.

• He doesn’t pull the ‘mommy’ card often, just when he can’t handle the teasing any longer.

• “P-Please, I’ve been s-such a good b-boy, I-I’m so close, please. Need it s-so bad, p-please mommy-“

• Not crazy about restraints, he likes being able to touch and feel you. He’ll do it every now and again but he’d much rather have his hands on you.

• He does, however, enjoy the blindfold. Never knowing when you’ll touch him or where. It drives him crazy. It makes his dick throb just thinking about what you’ll do to him next.

• He loves being marked up. He’ll bitch and moan about it the next morning, knowing he’ll have to cover it up before recording later, but he loves the possessiveness. He’ll lay there and let you mark him up for hours, he practically lives for it.

• He’s a good boy, he always makes sure to ask for permission before doing anything. “Please can I touch you? I-I’ll make you feel so good, I promise…” “F-Fuck please d-do that again, o-oh god…” “P-Please let me cum, I’ve been so good, I-Im such a good boy, p-please…”

• After the third or fourth round, he’s a mess. Panting, whining, sweating. Muscles in his thighs spasming from the intensity of his numerous orgasms, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his sweaty hair sticking to your neck as he rests his head on your chest. Trailing kisses along your breasts and up to your collarbone. Soft “thank you”s leaving his lips as he tries to catch his breath.

• The aftercare is his favorite part. Soft praises of his performance whispered in his ear, your fingers running through his messy hair, nails gently massaging his scalp. He stays buried in you, loving the closeness and the warmth between you both.

• He could stay like that all night, but once he senses your tired energy, he lays down with you, pulling you into his chest. His arms around your body, fingers gently massaging your hipbones, his lips leaving tender kisses across your face.

• He professes his love in soft gravely whispers, his fingers now tracing the shape of your jawline while he stares into your eyes. He kisses your lips, much gentler now, savoring the taste with a slow sensual make-out session

• To end the evening, he asks if you can cockwarm him, and you aren’t one to deny his wishes. He’s gentle and slow, making sure to not hurt you or get things too heated again. With him buried in you once again, he pulls your back against his chest, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder. His hand instinctively comes up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers ever so gently wrapping around your throat, though being careful not to apply any pressure.

• “My perfect girl,” He whispers, kissing your jaw. “What did I do to get so lucky?”

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, the topic of sex is brought up a lot, mentions of the r word (i don't actually say it i just say "r word"), gayness, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, teenage boys. also snuck in a lot of personal headcanons so that might not be your thing

Desc: Mikey lost his V-card

Mikey: just had the sex

Mikey: it's not all that, tbh

Mikey: i didn't like it

Mikey: i was quite indifferent to the situation actually

Mitsuya: that's great 👍

Smiley: you're the last one to lose your v-card and you come back with a report like this?😒

Smiley: we want details

Draken: whose we?

Mitsuya: no we don't

Chifuyu: it must have been difficult tackling the whole issue with you being 5'3 and all

Mikey: you're an inch taller than me😐

Chifuyu: "taller" being the key word

Baji: what didn't you like about the sex?

Baji: i think sex is great

Kazutora: i think it's super nice until you get in over your head and freak out about your performance so you end up having a panic attack and she just leaves

Smiley: LMAOOOOOO

Draken: that's actually kinda sad, you good?

Kazutora: no? i'll never emotionally recover. never again

Baji: maybe it should be with someone you trust and have been friends with for a number of years. maybe even your best friend who would do anything for you. that's just my opinion tho

Draken: just tell him ffs. anything but this

Kazutora: i have no girl friends?? the only women i know who're affiliated with this friendgroup are hina (taken), emma (mikey's sister and also taken), and yuzuha (gay)

Baji: why does it have to be a girl

Mikey: bro

Hakkai: 💀

Smiley: mention homosexuality once and here Hakkai comes

Hakkai: 😐

Kazutora: Baji i know you're gay and i support your lgbtq+ lifestyle but i'm not into dicks like you are man

Baji: what about assholes

Mitsuya: what's the point of this, like just ask him out atp

Mikey: you'd let KAZUTORA top???? insane

Kazutora: what's wrong with me topping? also who am i topping??

Smiley: well you're a twink so you're obviously a bottom

Chifuyu: Kazutora are you actually just gonna ignore what everyone else is saying

Kazutora: aren't you guys talking to Baji?

Draken: are you stupid or what

Kazutora: i'm really confused rn can we just to back to talking about Mikey

Mikey: yes actually. i've decided that i don't like sex and won't be doing it again

Chifuyu: bad day for Takemitchy

Takemitchy: what?

Chifuyu: well since you ride his dick so much

Takemitchy: HUH

Takemitchy: i've never done that with Mikey-kun tho??? i'm with Hina? also I'm straight so I don't understand what you mean by that 😥

Chifuyu: i don't actually mean-

Chifuyu: nvm

Baji: are we allowed to call people the r word anymore

Angry: no it's a slur

Baji: you're probably mad because people said it to you huh? lmao

Angry: yes

Baji: oh

Smiley: i didn't even mean it Angry it was just that one time

Angry: several, one times. but okay

Angry: i still love you

Smiley: can you not say that in front of our friends like idk what to do rn cause i can't say it back so it looks embarssing for you

Angry: 😕

Smiley: ...

Angry: ☹️

Smiley: i love you too

Angry: thank you

Chifuyu: very rare Smiley human decency moment

Draken: you guys are such weird siblings but that was great to watch. character development in a matter of seconds

Smiley: you should all kill yourselves

Mikey: man i really want to

Mikey: that was a literal joke before you guys get weird

Draken: you've actively tried to kill yourself tho

Mikey: yeah but like i won't do it anymore

Baji: we must just, believe you?

Mikey: i know that's hard to do because i lie all the time but yes

Draken: not a convincing argument but nice try

Mitsuya: terrible try actually. Mikey should we be worried?

Mikey: miss me with that gay shit, i'm fine

Mitsuya: i hate you guys so much

Draken: not me tho cause i'm your og

Mitsuya: 😐

Mitsuya: yeah i guess

Draken: 🤞

Draken: i'm gonna go out with my girlfriend now

Draken: also Mikey you're probably asexual. or you haven't found the right one to do it with yet idk

Mikey: what's asexual

Draken: google it

Mikey: Ken-chin c'mon i'm having a crisis rn

Draken: basically low or very little sexual attraction to others

Draken: there's a whole spectrum to it tho so you should probably do some research because that was an extremely watered down explanation

Draken: i'm ace too if that helps

Baji: Emma's a whole ass slut so how does she deal with that

Smiley: imagine bagging Ryuguji Ken with his sexy ass and he doesn't wanna smash. tragic

Draken: first of all, Baji i'll fucking kill you, never say that about Emma again

Draken: and fuck you Smiley

Angry: are you traumatized because of living in a sex orientated/obsessed environment so you eventually began to detest any affiliation with the act?

Draken: yes actually

Angry: i see

Mikey: i just don't like it. i'm not traumatized like Ken-chin :(

Draken: it's whatever

Baji: calm down i didn't call Emma a slut as an insult i just mean it as a describing word because she likes fucking

Baji: i've known her longer than you and she's been fucking since she knew what the thing was

Mikey: i probably should have addressed that as an older brother or something

Mikey: yk, cause i take care of my family

Baji: now she takes care of you with your chronically depressed ass

Mikey: 😒

Kazutora: is Emma also traumatized? like the opposite of Draken?

Mikey: wait should i ask?? her mom did abandon her and she did grow up without a father figure so like maybe i should talk to her

Smiley: you didn't have to dish out her problems like that 💀

Baji: she's got the Sano slut genes because wasn't Shinichiro falling in love with different people everyday? then your dad was impregnating people all the time. skipped Mikey tho

Draken: not everything is trauma related. also Emma just likes sex. it's not a huge deal breaker and if it was she would tell me and we'd talk about it

Mikey: what about having kids?

Draken: stop asking me this shit we'll do that when we're ready

Smiley: it's crazy how Draken is one of the healthiest people here. always reacting sensibly to situations and dealing with his trauma normally. he's such a good guy. hate him

Draken: love you too

Mikey: did he deal with it all that healthily if he beats people to a pulp most of the time

Draken: i stopped doing that

Baji: why though, you were an actual unit

Baji: wasted talent. i still beat people up

Draken: Emma said to

Mikey: fair

Smiley: Mitsuya could be on Draken's level too but something went wrong along the way cause he's a boy liker

Mitsuya: 🖕

[samoankpoper21]

Numb - Jo Togame

Jo Togame x chubby! reader

Word count: 3.2K

Content warnings: a bit of self deprecation (only because the reader is still growing into her own), cussing, unprotected sex (always use protection!), p in v, creampie

Genre: angst, smut, smut with plot

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED 18+! MDNI!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Togame wasn't slow, just the way he spoke.

You remember the first time he and his family had moved next door. "Y/N, come say hello to our new neighbor." Peering from behind your mother you peeked to see the slender boy with dazzling emerald eyes peeking behind his mother as well. The two women chatted as you both regarded each other quietly. "Y/N, this is Togame. Togame this is Y/N."

Your family owned a small clinic that you were set to take over once you were older; your weekends spent readying, studying anatomy, medicine, herbs and the likes. "Do you actually want to do that when you're older?" Togame drawled one lazy afternoon. "'course! Why wouldn't I?"

"Have you ever thought about doing something else?"

"Nuh uh. From the moment I saw how my dad tended to this elderly man I was hooked. I want to be like him."

"Hm." Togame smiled while ruffling your hair. That was the first time your heart beat like crazy. Trying to rationalize your heart's wild thumping due to the fact that puberty hit you both differently there was no denying that you were attracted to your childhood friend. What you once saw as a small boy with thick black hair and big forest green eyes grew to be a lean, muscular man whose jawline was sharp, hair now shoulder length, veins traveling the length of his arms, legs thick and taut with muscle; only thing similar was his aloof nature that wouldn't allow him to make friends easily.

He was your first when it came to intimacy: your first kiss, first hickey, first hand held, first sexual partner. You remember storming into his room demanding, "Togame! I need you to kiss me!" Smirking he drawled out, "Well where is this coming from?" You relayed the story of how most of the girls in your friend group had already had their first kiss all but you and Emi earning pitiful gazes. Swallowing slowly he asked, "You sure about this sweetheart?" Nodding fervently he chuckled instructing you to sit on the bed with him. Turning your body to face him you suddenly felt self conscious: would he be turned off by your belly and rolls? Would he grimace at the way your skirt hiked up your thick, melanated thighs? He doesn't have to do this anyway. He's just being a good friend. Lost in thought you failed to realize how much closer he moved toward until he gently cupped your chin whispering, "Stop overthinking this." He pressed his lips against yours gently first, your eyes widening, your brain reveling in the feel of his slightly chapped lips; he taking in the softness of yours. You closed your eyes as your lips began to brush and move against one another, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck pulling him closer, your fingers carding through his hair tugging lightly til he growled. Pulling back panting you murmur, "Sorry, didn't mean to hurt-"

"Don't stop." he demanded, pulling you closer by the back of your neck, your back meeting his covers, not an iota of space between you two; both his and your hands traveling, exploring, squeezing.

Your makeout sessions were becoming more frequent, both of you not wanting to put a title on what this was; for all you were aware of was how good it felt, the thrill of being able to run to the other person's arms and feel their lips against one another. Until one particular session became too heated. Laying in bed, Togame on top, his hand slowly crawled underneath your shirt, squeezing at the fat, dancing along the curves of your love handles and waist. He cupped your clothed breast, pinching and rolling the erect nipple causing you to gasp in the kiss, his tongue slowly traveling into your mouth, exploring. Your tongue began to intertwine with his when he sucked on it causing you to moan. "Do it again." he demanded before slowly sticking his tongue into your mouth, your tongues fighting against one another, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. That was your first french kiss.

Sitting in his room anxiously he could read you like a book. He knew whenever you failed to meet his gaze gnawing at your lip that there was something "difficult" you wanted to ask of him but was too shy to. He laid there patiently waiting, watching you clench and unclench your small, chubby hands. He always told you he found your hands cute. "Togame," you whisper.

"Mm."

"I...I have a favor to ask you."

"What is it sweetheart?" your heart clenched at the endearment he always used when it came to you. Figuring you've already done embarrassing stuff together you settled to just be out with it. "I need you to fuck me." His eyes widened. "Come again?"

"I just-I just want to see what the other girls keep talking about. None of the guys at school find me attractive which I don't mind because they're not my type either it's just-" Cupping your cheeks he earnestly gazed at you. "Ya sure?" Holding his gaze, your blush heating up Togame's hands, you nodded. If only you knew all the dirty thoughts that ran through his mind as he fucked his fist at night: thoughts of you. Kissing you slowly, gently, as a means to relax you he lowered you onto his bed, his lips brushing your cheeks, trailing down your neck, murmuring "beautiful" as he nipped at your pulse point making you gasp. His lips traveled down to your collar before reaching your shirt. "May I?" looking away covering your face you nodded for him to continue. Slowly peeling your shirt over your head he audibly gasped "Beautiful", your arms failing to cover your tummy. "Stop that." he scolded. Peeking at him you silently gasped, for this was the first time anyone, let alone a man looked at you with so much want. His blown out pupils nearly covering his beautiful beryl eyes as he bit his lip taking in the entirety of you. The want and need in his eyes fueled your courage. Reaching behind you unclasped your bra tossing it somewhere in his room, your bountiful breasts spilling over. You always knew Togame had huge hands but in comparison to your 46D breasts it still covered a good amount. You watched as his calloused hands cupped both mounds causing you to squirm, watching as some of it spilled through his fingers. "So soft." he dazes. Finally meeting your eyes he gauges your reaction as he slowly began to pinch and roll your nipples, watching as your eyes close, lips caught between your teeth. "Togame." you whimper, the bulge in his pants growing tighter. Slowly leaning his head down he took one of the rocky pebbles in his mouth and began to suck, catching it between his teeth lightly tugging, your back arching. Maintaining eye contact with you he swirled his tongue around before fully enclosing your breast into his mouth sucking harshly. "To-Togame!" you gasp out. Blowing air on your nipple he chuckled at your whimpering before moving to the next breast, your fingers tangling themselves into his thick hair pushing him more into you. Leaving your nipple with a pop he smirked at your panting figure, nipping at the tops of your breasts. His lips gently placed kisses in between your breasts, slowly making their way down your chubby tummy, licking at some of the stretch marks, pushing a deep kiss into your belly before reaffirming how beautiful you are to him.

Locking eyes with you once more for consent your lust filled gaze nodded as he slowly peeled your skirt down your legs groaning at the wetness found on your panties. Lowering his face to your mound he inhaled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Hooking his fingers around the band he slowly pulled your panties down, you subconsciously spread your legs wider for him. "Togame," you whined. "Do something." Licking his lips he lays himself flat on his stomach, his hands wrapping around your thighs pulling your closer to his face. He took a tentative swipe along your folds making you let out a small gasp. Biting and sucking on your inner thighs he sucks on your puffy clit causing you to let out a drawn out moan, the tension in his pants becoming stuffier. He began to suck and lick at your folds, moaning at your saccharine taste. You tasted so much better than he imagined, thankful that he was the one to be able to do this with and to you. Bumping his nose against your clit his tongue slid into your entrance, your back arching, your hands tangled in his hair pushing him deeper to your mound. "Please! D-don't stop." your hips began moving of their own accord, all sense of shame out the window. "That's it sweetheart," he urged. "Keep using my fucking face." before landing a slap on your thigh making you moan. Taking your clit in his mouth he gathered some of your slick on his middle finger sliding it into you slowly earning a silent "o" from you. Slowly pumping his finger in and out he watched as your eyes went from squeezing tight due to the uncomfortable pressure to your eyebrows relaxing. His finger was able to glide in and out of you with ease. "I'm going to add another finger in, think you can handle it?" You nodded and he slowly inserted his pointer finger along with his middle. You gasped at the delicious stretch. "'s tight." Letting his fingers stay in your warm cavern he waited until you gave him permission to move. Slowly jutting his fingers in and out he watched as your breasts bounced, your hips moving in accord with him. "T-Togame, more." Scissoring his fingers he took your clit in his mouth as he moved them at a faster pace. Bending them on contact of something spongy you gasped out, "Ah! To-Togame there! Right there!" Using his middle and ring finger he pumped his fingers in and out of you at lightning pace, bending his fingers inside beckoning in a come hither motion. "Listen to how fucking soaked you are for me." The wet squelching sounds filling the room was driving both of you insane. "To-Togame, I-I feel-"

"I know sweetheart. You're going to feel so good, I promise." Using his other hand he began to rub rapidly at your clit while the other was busy thrusting in and out of you. "To-To-Aaaaah!" Trying to close your legs Togame held one of them down as your orgasm washed over you. Trying to catch your breath all your ears could pick up on was "mwa" each one landing on your sensitive pussy lips. Licking you clean Togame praised you: "My pretty girl did so good for me. So fucking good for me." Once your breathing calmed down you looked over at him. "'s not fair. I'm the only one naked." Smirking he replied with, "Patience sweetheart." Getting off the bed quickly he tossed his shirt aside leaving you to admire his physique. You always knew he was built but not to this extent. Mesmerized by his hardened abs, broad shoulders, and the veins running down his forearms and onto his hands you pressed your legs together to create some type of friction, an action that did not go unnoticed by Togame. Ridding himself of his sweats and boxers you could feel yourself salivating at the thickness and length of Togame's cock as it hit his stomach. Crawling to the edge you gently took his cock in your hand reveling at the weight and warmth of it, he letting out a low hiss. Looking up at him you opened your mouth making sure to cover your teeth before taking his length in moaning at the contact, his heady scent making you dizzy. "F-fuck Y/N." You swirled your tongue around his tip, watching as he kept his hands glued to his sides, balled into fists, his eyes closing. Remembering to breath through your nose you slowly took inch by inch of him making sure to get his dick wet and slippery. Using your hand at his base you began bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing out your cheeks. Hearing you gag he pulled back breathing harshly. "Y-you okay?" Biting your lip you crawled off the bed kneeling in front of him looking up through your lashes. Gawd Togame wanted to cum from the sight in front of him, imprint it in his mind forever. Keeping eye contact you hollowed out your cheeks using both hands to twist his cock as you slurped and sucked. All restraints broken Togame moaned tangling his hands in your hair fucking your mouth. You moaned and gagged loving how he was using you as his personal fuck toy. "S-shit 'm gonna cum." Pushing your face against his pubes as encouragement he let out a low groan before releasing into your mouth, his sticky hot seed hitting the back of your throat.

Taking a moment to process what had happened he slowly peeled his hips away from your face tilting your head upward. Glaze filled eyes locking with his you opened your mouth extending your tongue, letting him know that you were a good girl for swallowing all of him and not wasting a single drop. He groaned. "Gawd you're gonna be the death of me sweetheart." Pulling you off the floor he harshly pushed his lips against yours, you both moaning at the taste of each other's climax hitting the other's taste buds. Pushing you to the bed as if in a trance he says, "I gotta fuck ya otherwise I'll lose my mind." Spreading your legs again he kissed you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. Slowly sliding in you both moaned at the fullness. "Pretty girl you're so tight. 's like you're suffocating my dick." Running your hands through his hair you whine, "Togame, fuck me." After those words left your lips you watched his eyes darken, as if a switch had flipped. Hoisting your hips up slightly he began pounding into you, watching as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. "Fuuuck Togame, yes. 's so good." Grabbing the back of your thighs he pressed you into a mating press his thick, long cock hitting deeper, poking at your cervix. "O-ohmygawd Toga-"

"Hmmm? Isn't this what you wanted? For me to fuck you?"

"Yesyesyesyes" your hands left his hair flying above your head clutching at the pillows, your eyes closing as you felt your impending orgasm rushing towards you. "To-Togame mmph!"

"Open your eyes. I wanna see you come undone." Togame slammed his hips against yours, the wet plap plap plap sound of his thighs meeting the back of yours had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Using his left hand he quickly rubbed at your clit your eyes shooting open. "Togameeeee please s-so close"

"Me too sweetheart." Slamming into you his hips faltered, pace sloppy, his fingers rubbing at your puffy bud. "Cum for me sweetheart." Locking eyes with him you screamed as your climax hit you hard, your wet gummy walls squeezing him oh so good his jaw clenched shooting his load deep into you. That was the first and last time you would sleep together before he left to be with Shishitoren.

You remember when he excitedly came bustling through the doors of your family's clinic, his way of speech a tad, just a tad bit faster, as he gushed over his new friend group and something about a guy named Choji; how Choji ushered him into Shishitoren gifting him with the yellow and white baseball style jacket with the emblem resembling the Japanese lion head on the back. You sat there staring up at him as he animatedly expressed to you how Choji was like the sun: warm, inviting, bringing out the best in people.

Months passed before you would see him again. Staring out the window you sighed as you saw the once clear skies being quickly covered with dark clouds, the heavy rain beginning to fall. You were closing up shop when the doors of your family's clinic slid open, thunder clapping behind him. "Togame!" you shouted. Rushing over to him you pulled him in shutting and locking the doors. He let you lead him to the examination table sitting there silently his head facing down as you busied yourself retrieving towels from your room upstairs. Shucking his jacket off you began to swipe at his forearms, moving your way up to his shoulders, damp hair, gently dabbing at his face. "Togame, what happened?" Staring ahead not answering you sighed whispering, "Let me grab more towels." Before you could fully turn around, his strong arms encased you pulling you closer, his forehead pressed against your chubby tummy. Biting your lips, tears brimming on the surface, you couldn't help but feel the butterflies in your stomach beating against its cage; the feelings you held trapped inside wanting to burst through your chest. "Please," you heard him lowly murmur. "Just stay like this...for a little while longer." Nodding your head your fingers automatically began threading through the thick, black trenches of his hair unaware that he too was fighting the same battle as you.

Weeks pass and he would stop by the clinic to get patched up, each time looking more exhausted, numb, dead inside. You noticed after that first rainy night how his eyes no longer held a trace of light or life in them, how he had braided the ends of his long locks, and now wore sunglasses. "Togame," you whisper while applying hydrogen peroxide on the newest cuts to his knuckles. "Why are you doing this? Why are you fighting so much?" Looking up to see him staring ahead you plead, "Answer me." Rubbing your thumb across his knuckles your tone turned accusatory. "Is it Choji? Is he the one making you do all this?" Finally getting a reaction out of him you were startled to see how fast his head whipped in your direction, his eyes glaring at you with a sharpness. "You don't know Choji."

"I-I'm just saying Togame look at you! You're all banged up! Every time you come to me now it's only for me to patch you up and then you come back with a new set of bruises! At what point is fighting not enough?! Hm?"

"You don't know anything Y/N."

"Then tell me! Because from what I'm seeing ever since you befriended this Choji guy you lost all sense of hope and purpose." Snatching his hand from your grasp, grabbing that damned Shishitoren jacket along the way he hissed out, "I don't need this shit and I don't need it coming from someone like you."

"Someone like me?! What's that supposed to mean?"

"You think you can tell me who to be friends with? You don't know anything. All you know is your stupid books and how you've been holed up here your whole life." Lowering your head so that he wouldn't see the tears brimming at the surface you ask in a low voice, "So that's how you think of me huh?" Without answering you turn your back towards him. "Let this be the last time I see you Jo." Once the doors of the clinic slowly slid shut your knees buckled leaving you to sob and wail at the loss of your friend, your first love.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── >>

A/N: I know I wanted to see more stories about body confident people on here but I felt like it would be more relatable if the reader suffers body image issues. My thought process went as follow: reader is insecure because she's a teen still going through puberty, trying to navigate what it means to be plus size. Once in high school that's when she owns it and learns early on how to love herself despite what society says.

©ALL WORKS BELONG TO SAMOANKPOPER21; ANY INFRINGEMENT OR PLAGIARISM WILL BE REPORTED!! DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST MY WORK!!

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 16)

DESCRIPTION: You and your husband both struggle to go back to sleep after your son wakes you up

A/N: I wrote this part ages ago and I am aware that it is slightly out of character for both Tommy and Flo but also it was just too cute not to keep!

WORD COUNT: 4099

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: Smoking, children, jokes about murder, use of 'sir' in both sexual and non sexual way, mildy ooc Tommy, slight declaration of feelings but not really, smut, swearing, fingering, p in v, choking, brief praise, overstimulation (f receiving), creampie, aftercare, soft dom Tommy, sub reader

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

It was the very early hours of Christmas Eve Eve. The 23rd of December 1922. You hear the distant cry of Charlie. Letting out a soft mumble as you get up. Unsure of the time. Hoping his cries might falter but two minutes pass and he's still wailing at the top of his lungs. You swing your legs out the bed. Sleepily walking along the corridor. Going and creaking the door quietly open before walking into his room. You smile at him. “Hey there little man”. You pick up the crying boy. Popping him onto your hip. Hushing him as you start to sing softly. Not anything in particular. More just your thoughts in a musical manner.

Thankfully it works as he drifts back off to sleep. You place him back down into his crib. Silently going back along to bed. Climbing in next to your sleeping husband. Turning your back as you try and let sleep back into your mind.

“Is he ok?” You hear Thomas speak softly next to you. You hum in agreement. Turning so you face him. His head turned towards you as his body lay flat on the bed. You bring your hands up. Tucking them both under your cheek as you look at him.

“I think he had a bad dream and just needed comforting. He’s gone back to sleep now”. He nods. Quiet fills the room. “Tom?” You whisper his name.

“Mhmm?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you were asleep yet or not”. Silence filling the room once again. You shut your eyes. Trying to will yourself to sleep. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 20. 40. You let out an annoyed huff as you hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime. You'd been trying to sleep for an hour and have had no luck.

“Can't sleep either love?” You look at Thomas. His eyes remain closed as you nod.

“I've been trying but my stupid brain wont shut off”. He opens his eyes. Sitting up. The blanket falling from his bare torso and going around his waist. He leans over. Lighting the oil lamp by the edge of his bed. Going into the top drawer by his bed. He pulls out a pack of cards. You sit up. Crossing your legs as you bring the blanket over the top of them. Your nightdress covering your torso. Watching as he shuffles. He starts dealing out the cards.

“We used to play this during France”. Once he'd laid out the cards he goes back into the top drawer. Taking out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one out he places it at the top of the cards. Putting the pack back on top of the bedside table. “Everyone would put in one cigarette. Whoever won would keep the bunch”.

“What game is it?”

“Solitaire. Do you know how to play?” You nod. He motions his hand towards you. A gesture indicating for you to start. You proceed in picking up the relevant cards. Talking as you play.

“I used to play with my dad when I was younger”. You flip over various cards. Chatting as you take it in turns. “I was so shit”

“He never let you win?”

“Oh no. He believed that a child should always earn their win. That you should never just give them it. So I lost every single time”. You smile. Glancing at him briefly before refocusing on the cards. “I was 9 when I managed to beat him. The look he gave me was priceless. I'd pay good money to re-see that look on his face”. Your smile softens. “He'd be proud of me”

“What for?”

“The fact I've just won”. You place the cards in the correct places. Finishing off the sets as you gleefully smile at him. Causing him to laugh.

“You sly woman”. You look at him and cheekily smile. Picking up the cigarette and placing it into your mouth unlit.

“Best out of three?” you speak with it hanging on your lip. Picking up the cards and starting to shuffle. Dealing them out. He grabs out another cigarette. Reaching into the drawer once again. Taking out some matches. Striking one of them. You lean forward. Letting him light the end for you before he lights his own. Wafting the lit match in a quick motion to put out the flame. He places the rest of the pack at the top of the bed.

“Winner gets the rest of the pack”

“You do spoil me Mr Shelby”. He smiles. Taking out the smoke from his lips. The two of you playing quieter as you both concentrate. The sound of cards moving and the air being filled with smoke as the night goes on. He smiles as he wins the second round. Holding what's left of the stick in one hand as he picks the cards up. Placing it back into his mouth as he deals them out. Snubbing his smoke next to the one you'd discarded a while ago.

Only a few cards remain unturned. You bite at your bottom lip. Shaking your head as you turn the next card over. Scanning over the remaining few quickly. “You're turn”. He moves a couple of cards. Turning over the next one. Smiling as he proceeds to turn over the rest and complete the four sets. Winning. You let out an annoyed groan. “Well done”. His eyes come up to look at you. Smiling as your gaze meets his.

“You are a good player. You're dad taught you well”. You scratch the back of your head. Smiling at the notion.

“We should be sleeping”. You pick up the card.

“Are you tired?”

“No. But we should at least try. Your brothers and Ada are coming round tomorrow evening and I haven't even started on the house yet. I'm so behind with everything and I don't even know how” You start shuffling the deck. Looking towards him as you shuffle. "What time are they coming?"

“Midday. With Polly”

“I thought Polly was coming Christmas eve?” He nods. Picking up the pack of cigerettes and placing them back onto his night table. You watch him. “Thomas?”

“She felt left out of the family gathering. She doesn't understand why her niece and nephews get to be here and she can't be”

“The main reason for that being because your brothers and sister don't hate me"

"Polly doesn't hate you"

"You're right. She doesn't hate me. She despises me and my very existence" he lets out a soft chuckle. "I'm surprised she hasn’t killed me yet”.

“She won't kill you”

“I saw her digging a hole a couple of weeks ago. I'm sure she's planning of disposing my body into it”. He tries not to laugh. Running his thumb over his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Its not funny” you say. A smile creeping onto your lips. “Is she bringing her son?” He nods. Leaning backwards as he watches you. Head resting against the headboard of the bed.

“Even though she really doesn’t want him around us”

“Why? I thought she'd be happy to have her two families mixing”

“She wants Michael to stay a child. A good boy that she can mother. If he hangs around us for to long then he’ll become corrupted. Or that's what she's worried about”. His eyes flick down. Watching the cards in your hands. “I think they're shuffled enough”. You smile. Scooting forward slightly as you lean towards him. Kneeling upwards. Fanning the deck out.

“Pick a card”. You looks at you. Amusement in his eyes as he tries not to smile. “Come on. You know you want to”. You smile at him. Eyes going to the cards before back to his. He sighs. Leaning forward again. He picks a card. You look away slightly as you push the cards back to form a deck. “Look at it. Once you’ve memorised it put it back into the deck”. You hold the cards towards him. Feeling him push the item back into the pack. You look back. Looking at him. “Hmm”. You go closer to him. Straddling the ends of his legs as you lean towards him slightly. Amusement on his lips as his eyes remain unmoving. You squint at him. Over emphasizing the trick. You shake your head.

“You're good at keeping a poker face”. You lean backwards again. Taking out the two jokers left inside the packet. Holding them both up in one hand. “Luckily I have some help”. You place one on top. The other on the bottom. Both facing upwards. “These two are going to help me find your card”. His eyes go down. Holding the pack top and bottom with your thumb and middle finger. Holding it semi tightly as you chuck 51 cards into the other hand. Three cards remaining in your right. The two jokers facing upwards as one remains face down.

You place them onto the bed. The deck of cards next to it. Joker either side of the still unseen card. “Do you remember your card?” He nods. “What was your card good sir?”

“Eight of hearts”. You take the bottom of the card. Turning it. His amused look turning into a full smile as his card sits between the two jokers. Eyes going back up to yours as you neatly place the card back on top of the deck. “How did you learn to do magic?”

“My mum-" you correct yourself "step mum taught me. She was very magical in herself. She would show me and my sisters magic tricks all the time. Not just card ones either. She could make coins disappear”

“Coins disappear?” You nod. Smiling at him. Taking off your wedding ring.

“I have the ring in my hand – she would use a coin though”. You swiftly move. Keeping your hands up as it vanishes from your grip. He furrows his brow. Genuinely bewildered. His eyes looking over every surface he can see near you. Your smile grows as you bring your hand up. ‘Finding’ the item in his ear. Pulling your hand back as you hold it between your fingers. His face grows with a mixture of emotions. “I told you. I'm magic”. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He laughs softly. Watching as you put the ring back onto your finger. “She would call it ‘Moneda Fantasma’. Translates to Phantom Coin. But it sounds cooler in Spanish”. He smiles. Nodding in agreement.

“Do you have any other tricks?”

“Of course”

“Show me”. You pick up the pack of cards. Putting the jokers to the side. Shuffling once again. Fanning them out. He takes a card. Looking at it. You move the deck closer to him. He puts the card back in.

“Would you be so kind to shuffle for me?” You hold the deck towards him. He takes them. Sitting up more as he shuffles. Passing them back to you once they’ve been shuffled. You take them. Placing them onto his lap. “Because it did so well last time” Flipping over the top card of the deck. The eight of hearts again. “He's going to help us find your card this time”. You turn the card back over. “We give him some time to search for you card before we ask him back to the top of the deck”. You tap the deck three times before turning the top card. Queen of spades. “Is this your card?” He nods again. Smiling as you pick the cards up. Placing them onto his side table. “Can you do any parlous tricks?”

“I can read peoples minds”. You raise your brow. You shuffle closer. Now sitting just below his knees. Causing him to smile.

“Show me. Please”. He rubs the gap between his eyebrows. Picking up the cards. His turn to fan them out. You pick up a card. Nine of diamonds. You put both your hands over it as you hold it close to your chest. You watch as he places the deck of cards back onto his side table. He leans closer to you. His hands resting gently onto your thighs as he keeps heavy eye contact with you. You try and remain deadpan as you look into his eyes. The soft blue digging into your core.

“It’s a high number… Not quite a royal but not far off of one”. He pauses. “No. Not quite a ten. I'd say a eight or nine though. Now is it a red or a black?” Pauses again. A soft sigh of air escaping him. “Is it the nine of diamonds?” Your jaw drops. Turning the card to face him. His eyes looking down as a smile comes over his lips. Looking back up at you. “Told you I could read minds”. You shake your head.

“How the hell do you do that?”

“Magic” he smiles. His eyes widen as he says the word. Causing you to smile as you cock your head. He smiles too. You lean over him. Placing your card onto the top of the deck. Holding onto his shoulder as you lean to keep balance. Sitting back up straight you lean back onto your heals. Still straddling his legs as his hands remain on you. You yawn. Covering your mouth with both hands as your eyes screw shut. Lifting your arms up as you stretch. He watches you. Eyes fixed on your features as you bring your hands down.

Feeling his hand move. Going to the back of your neck. Pulling you into him as his lips meet yours. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss. Your hands going up as you cradle his face between your palms. His other hand moves from your thigh. Going to your lower back as he pulls you fully onto his lap. You chest pressed firmly against his.

His hand from the back of your neck move downwards. Trailing down the length of your spine. Slotting itself between your shoulder blades as he holds you flush against him. Moving your hands to wrap around his shoulders. Pulling away slightly. Faces no more then an inch away from each other. He moves his hand from your spine. Bringing it down. Lifting up the end of your silk nightdress. Letting it pool around your waist. Your eyes fixated onto his as he looks up at you. Moving one of your hands from around him to move down. Holding the clothing up as his fingers move delicately across the skin.

A small whine leaves your lips as he traces his finger over your clit. A faint smile coming over his face as he starts making small circles onto the nub. Your hand gripping the fabric as the other digs into the flesh of his shoulder. Imprinting your nails into the skin. You lull your head to the side. Your mouth parting as soft moans leave your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut. Feeling the ecstasy building inside of you. His hand moving on your core. Feeling him push a digit into your cunt.

“Fuck”. You breath out the cuss. Your hands go to the back of his neck. Tilting your head back. He kisses your throat. Curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb works on your clit. Your pussy fluttering around him. You let out a broken moan. Putting your head forward as you capture his lips with yours. Kissing him as your high begins to build. He brings his hand from your hip to the back of your neck. Holding it as your lips mould together. His fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Please. Please sir". You murmur against his lips. Feeling him smiling against your skin. Feeling his eyes watching you as you come undone onto his fingers. A slow yet intense orgasm filling your body. He continues moving inside of you. Helping you ride out the high before he removes the digits. Kissing your neck again. Moving the strap of your dress off of your shoulder.

“Tommy?” Your voice quiet against the still room. He moves. Eyes able to watch yours. You feel your cheeks reddening at the unasked question.

“I-I-” You stutter out the words. Your voice going into an even quieter whisper before you speak. Eyes falling to his shoulder. "Can you... make love to me... please...". Your voice so small as those words hit his ears. Eyes glancing back up. His features remain soft as he looks at you. Not saying a word. You'd have thought that after two years of marriage you could read him better. Your cheeks go a darker shade of crimson. Shit. Why did you have to say that? Why couldn’t you have been a normal person and just said ‘put your cock in me’ or ‘I want to fuck’. Worried you'd ruined the moment with your question you look down fully. Shaking your head slightly.

“Shit" you mutter. "I'm sorry” you whisper an apology. Shaking your head. Silently cursing at yourself. Going to move off of his lap. His hands move to your hips. Gripping them. Holding you in place as he senses you movements. He stays silent. Not making a sound as he pulls you upwards. You reposition your hands onto his shoulders. Moving your legs so you're straddling him more. An arm moves around your hips. Holding you close as the other releases himself from his confines. Feeling him line the tip to your entrance. Letting you slowly sink down onto him.

A loud moan leaving your lips as he fills you. His hands go to the bottom of your night dress. Pulling the item up and over your body. Tossing it to the side. His hands run over your body. Fingers rough compared to the sweet touch of the pads dancing over your skin. Crossing your stomach. Over your chest. Down your arms. Worshiping your every curve. His eyes staying on yours. One hand going to your lower back. The other to your hip. Gently starting to move you. A slow yet intimate pace as you feel him fitting so perfectly inside of you.

He leans forward. Lips capturing yours. Your hand goes to his cheek. The other remaining on his shoulder. Your delicate noises being lost into the kiss. His hand moves from your hip. Finding where the two of your meet. Using his middle finger to rub small circles onto your clit.

“Shit”. You mutter. Moving your head into his shoulder. His hand moves from your back. Hips and fingers still working as he tenderly takes your jaw. Moving your head from his shoulder. Moving down to rest around your throat. No pressure against it. Just resting. Holding you there.

“Keep your eyes on me”. You nod. Meeting his ocean eyes. A blush creeping across your face as you keep eye contact with him. His face smiles as he watches you. The hand that was on his cheek goes to his wrist. Holding it close to you as he keeps you watching him. Feeling your high building up once again. His work inside of you plus his fingers making your orgasm build up quickly. You fight to keep your eyes on him. The adorable determined expression on your face causing him to smile. Leaning forward as he kisses you.

“Cum for me sweetheart. Let me feel you”. You let out a stifled moan. Eyes rolling back as you grind against him a couple more times. Letting the action push your orgasm over the edge. Your hands gripping onto him. Legs pushing together. “Good girl”. He coos. The praise going straight to your core. Causing you to let out a mild whine. He kisses you again. Hand still wrapped around your throat as he keeps your entire body from collapsing. Body trembling as he continues his work on your stimulated cunt.

“Please. Please Thomas”

“Just a little longer” he grunts. His gaze going down to where you two meet. “Fuck”. He mutters. His hand tightens around your throat. Feeling the bluntness of his nails digging into the skin. His hand moves from your cunt. Gripping at the flesh of your thigh. A grunt escapes his lips. Stilling your body as he cums. His seed spilling into you. You smile at the feeling. Eyes rolling into your head as you give out a satisfied moan. You gently grind against him. Helping him ride out his high. He leans back onto the headboard. Breathing deeply as he watches you. His hand falling from your throat to your leg. Resting onto it. His fingers gently dancing onto the bare skin.

 “Ok… I'm tired again now”. You open your eyes. Sleepily smiling at him. He lets out a soft chuckle as you muster up the energy to move off of his lap. You let out a soft groan. Lifting yourself off of him. Sitting next to him. He continues watching you. You push your legs together as you start to feel his seed come out of your hole. He notices your mild discomfort. Adjusting his underwear. Putting himself away before he stands up. Grabbing a small hand towel. Coming and sitting back next to you. You go to take it from him but he just shakes his head.

“Lie down”. He speaks. Voice demanding yet soft. You take a few seconds to process his words but you do as he asks. His hands gently parting your legs as he wipes the juices from between your legs. You watch the feared and dangerous gangsta care for your body. A small smile coming over your feature. Quickly shaking the warm and fuzzy feeling.

Once he's cleaned you up he gets under the covers. Covering your naked frame with them. He grabs out a cigarette. Lighting the end of it. He remains sat up as you watch his face. Leaning his head back as he looks towards the ceiling. Removing the stick as he exhales. You bring a hand out. Motioning at the item. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I won this”. He looks at you and smiles. You playfully glare at him as he draws a drag from it. Bringing it down. Letting you take it from his grip. Taking a puff of it. Retracting it from your lips as you place it back into his hand. Breathing the smoke out as you talk.

“God I'm going to miss the silence tomorrow with everyone here”. He nods. Cigarette resting between his index and middle finger.

“What time are your sisters coming?”

“Elizabeth has told me she's seeing someone in the morning so she’ll come round in the afternoon”. You turn to face him. Rolling your body. Moving the bed covers to make yourself decent as you rest your cheek onto your hands. “I think she's seeing a male acquaintance”

“Yeah?” You nod.

“She's been sneaking off a lot recently. Plus she doesn’t come round as often”

“Maybe she's just getting older?”

“Maybe…” you run your thumb over your lips as you think. “I think she's seeing one of your Peaky men”

“What makes you think that?” He looks at you. Amusement on his features at your theorising.

“I don’t know. I just think she is”

“Which one?”

“Edward. The younger one who delivered our groceries whilst we were at the safe house”. He nods. Pushing his lips together as he draws another drag. “He comes round here a lot more often then any of the others. Especially when my sister is here”. You rub your face with your hand. Shrugging. “I might be wrong though”

“Have you ever been wrong about your theories?”

“Once I thought someone was having an affair. Tried blackmailing her. Turns out she just had a new dog but her husband was allergic so she kept it a secret”. He laughs. “It made for a very awkward family meal”. You yawn. Covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You should get some rest”. You nod. Noticing his unmoving nature as he takes another draw from his cigarette. Hesitating a moment before reaching your hand out. Gently placing your hand on his wrist. Rubbing your thumb over the veins.

“You should sleep too”. His eyes glance to the affection. Moving he snuffs out the cigarette. You retract your hand. Placing it back to rest under your cheek. Watching as he puts the lamp out beside him. Going further under the covers. The bed covers come halfway up his torso. His arm going up and resting behind his head. Shutting your eyes as his breathing starts to deepen. Letting sleep take over you both.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @frozenhuntress67 @sagemastah @meadows58

[heechwe]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 〰 𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘯

⌞ please read my guidelines before requesting anything .ᐟ ⌝

key: 🤍 - fluff, 💟 - smut, 💙 - angst, 💌 - smau,⭐️- lexi’s favorites, tags

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

cafe au lait 💌🤍 | establishedrelationship!au, the guys being Dudes | when a bad day can be solved with a coffee from the love of your life, you know you have it good.

lips of an angel 💙 | exes!au, established (previous) relationship | He's not supposed to be calling you in the middle of the night after months of silence. And yet you fall back into the same feelings like nothing has changed.

the boy is mine 💟 | secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex | A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to.

night changes 💟🤍 | roomates to lovers au, pet names (love, baby, etc.), dirty talk, size kink, face sitting, 69, unprotected sex, creampie | Maybe a citywide power outage is what you need to finally confess your feelings. Well, that and a risque card game.

drabble series: ii (🤍). v (💟).

𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔦 💟 | "Does he fuck you like this?" + one muse holds the other down during rough sex + in a semi-public place

𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔦𝔦 💟⭐️ | "Did i say you could stop?" + one muse gives the other oral + against a wall

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 (𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞)

fire meet gasoline 💟 | college au, popular!jakeau, simp!jake, frat au, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration | jake sim, the head of theta tau's fraternity, was definitely not someone you’d take interest in at first glance. but the way he looks at you, defies your thoughts, and makes you think he may be worth the attention.

dancing with our hands tied 💟⭐️ | brothersbsf!jake, minor age difference, college au, friends with benefits, secret relationship, light choking, semi-public sex, oral (f + m receiving), fingering, penetration, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex folks) | What began as a simple friends-with-benefits situation with your brother's best friend has turned into something deeper, and you now find that your emotions are more complicated than you initially thought.

but daddy i love him 💟🤍 | badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex | Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants.

canine intuition 🤍 | established relationship, marriage!au, expecting!reader | Sometimes your dog knows what's going on before you do. And shenanigans ensue when she uses her knowledge to protect you, whether you want her to or not.

drabble series: i (🤍).

𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔦 💟 | "I’m going to fuck you until your legs shake" + one muse makes the other have multiple orgasms + in a bed

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐣𝐚𝐲)

midnight faith 💟🤍 | werewolf!jay, established relationship, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc.), biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, knotting, creampie, cock stuffing, breeding kink | You know his history and where he comes from, both being huge factors that affect your current relationship, but all you care about is your future together.

the start of time 💙🤍💟 | friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex | You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort.

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

three men & a crib 🤍 | established relationship, soontobedad!sunghoon, married!au, pregnant!reader | Sunghoon is wasting time not building the furniture in the nursery, mainly the terrifyingly intricate crib his pregnant wife ordered. What else can he do besides call Jake and Jay to help him?

lost in wonderland 💟💙🤍⭐️ | mentions of drug use, fake dating au, rockstar!sunghoon, popstar!reader, enemies to lovers au, jerk to down bad sunghoon, pet names (baby, doll, love, etc.), dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), belly bulging, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie | Park Sunghoon, one half of popular rock band Into Eden, is on thin ice with his management and the general public. What does his manager Jay decide to do? Set him up with the leader of rising pop girl group PrismHeart. And while it starts as two stubborn people living in a lie, growing feelings cannot hold anything but the truth.

drabble series: iii (🤍).

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨

𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

drabble series: iv (🤍).

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢

𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇

⸝⸝ˎˊ˗ 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆

versace on the floor 💌 | Your boyfriend's reaction to your lingerie is exactly what you expected. Maybe they were right when they said pictures were worth a thousand words.

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

basketball (heechwe's version) 💟🤍💙 | enha!hyung line, high school au, basketball au | a series centered around love and basketball, both incredibly intertwined into one game.

dream daddy (enha!hyung line) 🤍 | singledad!enhypen | teaser. ch. 1 - heeseung. ch. 2 - jake. ch. 3 - jay. ch. 4 - sunghoon

all in the craft (enha!ot7) 🤍 | basically enhypen with grandma hobbies | teaser. ch. 1 - heeseung. ch. 2 - jake. ch. 3 - jay. ch. 4 - sunghoon. ch. 5 - sunoo. ch. 6 - jungwon. ch. 7 - riki.

[scarletwinterxx]

your beginning and middle and end - mark lee imagine

hello🥺 sooo this one is a bit longer than my usual posts. think of it as a valentine special. i loved writing this one, i hope you like it too🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

FEBRUARY 09, 10AM

"That's the fourth date you declined, girl valentines is around the corner" Yun-jin tells you the moment the other guy walked away

"Genuine question, do I need a guy to celebrate it or do I even need to celebrate it?"

"If Valentines has a version of the grinch it would be you"

You laugh at her statement, reading over the small note that was given to you along with a single rose. It was cute, you appreciate the thought but you really didn't want to go out with the dude. You'd rather let them down now than pretend to have fun during a date.

"It's just not my thing" you tell her

"Then what's your thing? Tell me and I will personally look for him"

Looks like luck is on your side because you spot the big clock behind her, your next class about to start.

"Once I know, I'll tell you. I'm gonna be late. Bye" you gather your stuff and rushed out the hall, you can hear her protests making you laugh on your way out.

When you got to your next class, the other students are just arriving. A lot of vacant seats, you choose the one in the middle. You get your notes and laptop out to skim over your notes from the last session.

"Another one?" you hear someone say from behind you making you look up

"Yep, want to read it?" you chuckle, passing the rose over to Mark.

Mark Lee, the boy you sit next to class with. You see him enough around campus to get acquainted. He's friendly, known by many, a poet by heart. And he's also well aware of the failed confessions to you.

The first time you brought a flower to class he didn't say anything, the second time he thought it was from the same person but then the third time it happened right in front of him. He witnessed how you gently turned down the poor lad who was asking you out after handing you a rose.

Mark takes his usual seat beside you before reading the note

"You and Me, on v? huh like Valentines?" he laughs, holding the little card in his hand

"I'd give it a 4 out of 10"

"Ouch, so the lowest one then. I'd say my favorite is still the one about cats" he tells you, passing the rose back to you

Do you like cats? Because I’d like you to take meowt

You remember that one too. You thought it was cringey, but Mark smiled when he read it. You even let him keep the card.

"Do you still have it?" you ask "The card? Oh yea, I drew like little cats all over it. I'm sure it's somewhere in my bag"

"Why? Planning to use it on someone?"

"Yeah right, I think I'd have a bit more game than that" he jokes

"Ha, we'll see about that" you snorted. Missing the way Mark is looking at you with small grin on his face. Trying to be as inconspicuous as he could be.

The two of you might be on good terms but he wouldn't put it past you to reject him too. Since he got to know you, one thing he learned about you is that you're always so sure of yourself. To you, no is a full sentence. You like what you like and say no to what you don't. You're unapologetically you and he likes that.

He's not sure yet whether he likes you or likes you.

"Earth to Mark?" you wave your hand in front of his face, making him break out of his thoughts

"Lost you there, where'd you go" you joke

"Was just thinking about this paper I have due on Tuesday" he says, it's not a total lie. He does have a paper he needs to finish before Valentines day.

"Need help? I have a few works to catch up on too"

"You don't have plans?" he asks, it's like asking if you have a date on Valentines without asking if you have a date on Valentines day.

"Not really no, and if I'm being honest I heard this guy planning to ask about dinner and I'd rather not..."

"Am I... the getaway car?" You chuckle at his question

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but if I could avoid it I would. So library or the cafe near campus?"

He looks at you like he's weighing his options, playfully hitting him on the arm making the guy laugh "Cafe it is, I'll see you there?" he says

"It's a date" you grin at him

FEBRUARY 12, 11AM

"It's not"

"You said she said it was" Jungwoo says, looking at Mark who is currently trying to find something to wear. After that little moment with you, Mark made sure to clear up his schedule for that day. Ofcourse Jungwoo being the nosy bestfriend didn't let it pass without making Mark tell the whole story.

"Also if this wasn't a date, why are you freaking out about what to wear? You're just going to study, are you going to study her?"

Mark throws the hoodie at Jungwoo's face before looking through his closet again, "Maybe it was just a slip of tongue. It's Y/N, she rejects everyone who asks her out" Mark says while his head is buried deep in his closet

Jungwoo rolls his eyes at his bestfriend, Mark swears he doesn't like you like that and yet here he is. He only met you a couple of time, Mark introduced you before when he went to give Mark a book he forgot to bring.

"I can think of something else you want her tongue to slip in" he mumbles, "Shut up, don't talk about her like that" Mark stands up straight, looking at the other guy. Jungwoo holds his hands up, "Sorry"

Mark gives him another glare before getting a hoodie inside his closet, "Whatever, I'll just wear this. Should I bring an extra one just in case?"

"Just in case what? You spill something?" Jungwoo jokes

In case she gets cold, Mark thinks to himself.

"Just cause" Mark grumbles, walking back to his closet to get another hoodie then stuffing it inside his backpack.

"You're going to be late, go have fun at your not a date date"

About an hour after that, Mark is waiting for you at the cafe. He got there first and sent you a quick text. After a few minutes, the door chimed making Mark look up.

And that's when you walk in, a bouquet of blue tulips in your grasp. You look around, quickly spotting Mark. You make your way towards him, Mark stands up to pull the chair out for you. Saying a quick thank you then you set your stuff down.

"Sorry I'm late"

"Nah, I'm just early" he tells you, "You uh the guy caught you?" he jokes, pointing at flowers

"Oh these? No, I got them actually like I bought it this morning. Yun-jin forgot to buy milk so I had to go out this morning then I saw these. Here" then you're handing the flowers over to him

When you notice the confused look on his face, you giggle. This made Mark look more confused at what's happening, "What? No one ever gave you flowers?" you joke

"No, it's suppose to be the other way 'round?" he asks but accepts it nonetheless

You shrug, getting your stuff out

"I don't like flowers, main reason why I always say no to those dudes. I appreciate the effort, I do but it's not my style. But I remember you said these are your favorite during our class introductions, so I got them for you" you smile at him, he smiles back.

"Thanks, no like really thank you" he says, this made you chuckle finding the situation cute.

"Okay, back to business. I do have like three agendas to finish today" you tell him, gesturing at the small stack of papers on the table

"I'll buy you a chocolate cupcake if you finish it all" he offers, your face lighting up at the mention of the sweet treat. Mark also remembers something about you during that class intro.

Actually he remembers everything about you and that day. The professor asked everyone to say their name along with two random facts about themselves.

"Hi everyone my name is Y/N, I love chocolate cupcakes and I can recite the graduation speech from Twilight"

That earned a few laughs from the class, and from him. You really did leave an impression on him. As days, weeks and months passed by the two of you got acquainted.

If someone asks (mainly Jungwoo) Mark when was the exact moment he felt different about you, he can't pinpoint the exact moment. It just sort of happened for him. Maybe from all the small gestures you unknowingly do, or how it's easy to talk to you. You just get him.

"Can you make it two?" tilting your head to the side for effect, making Mark laugh and nod his head "You got it"

A few hours later, and a few cups of coffee the two of you finally finish. Mark actually finished his paper an hour ago but you weren't done with the last module you had to do,

"Are you done? Am I making you wait?" you ask, noticing he stopped doing anything and was just looking at you

"Huh? Oh uh yea, but don't worry about it. I can wait" he tells you with a smile

"You sure? I'm almost done"

"Don't rush it, I'll still buy you the cupcakes" he tells you, you shoot him a smile before going back to work. Meanwhile Mark goes to the front of the store to get you your cupcakes.

You didn't even notice he stood up, focusing on saving the file before sending the final file to your professor.

"And done! Mark?" you look up only to find the seat infront of you empty. You spot him over the counter, choosing to wait and tidy your things in the mean time.

"Hey, you done?" he asks when he got back to your table

"Mhm, finally. Sorry for taking up your whole afternoon"

"No worries, I finished my work too and I enjoyed your company. And as promised, here's your cupcakes" Mark then opens the box, he might as well presented you with a pot of gold with the way you're grinning from ear to ear. Your joy radiating, making him smile too.

"For me?" you asked, he nods his head

"These are the chocolate ones, I got two. The others are their best sellers, then this one I just thought you might like" he points at the cupcake with heart sprinkles on it.

You laugh, getting the box from him "Okay fine, I believe you. You definitely how to make a girl say yes"

He shakes his head, suddenly feeling shy "Believe me I'm not an expert when it comes to girls" he mumbles

"No, but you got this type of vibe about you you know" you tell him, getting one cupcake from the box

"What vibe?"

"You know like someone could've been in love with you for ten years without you knowing, a classic case of unrequited love but not in a mean way you just don't really know. It's the way you see the world, it's always nice, forgiving, full of chances. You see meaning even in little things. You got this boyish charm about you, the kind that girls would pick over their fictional boyfriends. You're better than any guy written by anyone" you tell him not noticing the way he's just staring at you

"I follow you on your socials, it's cute when you take pictures of the moon or the sky. Makes me remember to take a breath and be in the moment every once in a while"

He don't say anything, still processing what you said. He has never heard himself be described that way, atleast not to his face but he doubts anyone can be as eloquent as you.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally finds his voice, you nod at him

"Why do you say no to all the boys who ask you out? besides the cringey one liners and flowers"

You chuckle, "Because I know me. All of them would've just ended one way or another. I know what I want, what I like. I like a guy I can have an actual conversation with from philosophical point of views to something so random. Someone that makes it feel easy to talk and listen to"

"Do you know how hard it is to control my expression when I'm in public? Yun-jin said my face is too judgy" you jokingly add "I'm an open book if you know how to read it exactly, if that makes sense"

"No, I totally get it. You're not complicated or hard to get, they just don't know how to. You deserve more effort than that" he tells you

"See, that's what I'm talking about. If you keep on doing that I'm gonna be the one asking you out" you tease him, the guy across you laughing. Trying to hide his blushing cheeks and fluttering heart.

The two of you talked some more before he offered to walk you home. It's almost sunset when Mark got back to his place,

"And he's back, how was the date?" Jungwoo shouts from somewhere inside. Mark spots him lounging on the couch, taking a seat beside him with the bouquet of flowers on his lap

"You got rejected too?" Jungwoo asks and Mark just shakes head

"Did you forget to give it? Got too shy? I'm pretty sure you're suppose to give it to the girl not take it back home"

"I didn't get it, I mean I got it but I got it from her. She bought me these" Mark clarifies, taking the bouquet to look at it again,

Jungwoo looks back and forth between Mark and the flowers, "Let me get this straight, the girl whose notorious for turning down guys who gives her flowers gave you flowers on your not a date date?"

Mark just stares back at his bestfriend because honestly it doesn't make sense to him too.

"Homegirl got more game than you" Jungwoo says with a chuckle

"She said she remembered I said these were my favorite. I mentioned it once during freshmen orientation week and she remembered"

"Oh my god, he's in love" Jungwoo laughs

"And you know, I gave her cupcakes and she got so happy I actually thought about signing up for baking classes" Mark grumbles, setting the flowers on the coffee table before taking a thrown pillow to bury his face in.

Jungwoo watches his bestfriend realized what he's known for a while now. Mark likes you. He just never said it. It's Mark. He thinks everyone is nice, most time he overlooks the nice gestures of other girls to him thinking it's normal when in reality they were trying to get his attention.

"Oh. This must be serious then. You don't even know how to cook"

"Yeah I know! Like I know I like her, I didn't know I like her." it felt surreal finally admitting it out loud.

"So you do like her? like like her"

"I think?"

"It's a yes or no"

"No, I don't"

"You got him flowers"

Meanwhile back at your dorm, Yun-jin is also interrogating you. You just finished giving her a recap of your day, she was half listening half watching her show when you suddenly mentioned you got flowers for Mark

"Just because I got him flowers don't mean I like him, I just remembered it was his favorite" you shrug, trying to not make a big deal out of it.

"What's my favorite flower?" she asks, you blink back at her coming up with a blank answer

"See! Oh my gosh, my baby girl is growing up" she dramatically hugs you

"Was that weird? That I gave him flowers?"

"No, it's the 21st century. Guys can get flowers too"

"He got me cupcakes too" you mumble, looking at the box on the table.

Yun-jin watches you, smiling to herself. She's with you twenty four seven and she's never seen you like this. There are a few times she's seen you on campus with Mark, you always smile whenever he's around. Choosing not to push further, she gives the topic a rest and changing it to something else

"So what are you doing for valentines? because if you're free I know this dude who's free also-" "Actually Mark and I are hanging out again" you cut her off

"You're spending valentines with Mark?"

"Yea, so uhm actually I'm gonna call it a night. I have classes in the morning, we're meeting again around lunch. Night" then you're making a beeline towards your bedroom.

FEBRUARY 14, 10AM

Come Valentines day. Yun-jin thinks you're out with Mark while the boy is completely unaware he's being mentioned.

Choosing a place you know Yun-jin won't find you, you stayed at the farthest lounge area after class. Most students won't even walk all the way here since it's a long way going back and forth.

Finding a spot to sit on, you spot someone sitting alone on one the benches

"Mark?"

The boy looks up, immediately smiling when he sees it's you

"Hey, you. What are you doing here?" he asks, getting his stuff from the seat beside him to make room for you. Putting your stuff on the table before taking the seat beside him

"I just finished for the day, and currently hiding from Yun-jin"

He chuckles, "Why?"

"She's trying to set me up with a blind date so I pretended I had plans" leaving out the part he was mentioned

"You don't have plans?" he asks, giving himself a pat on the back for not sounding too nervous

You shake your head, "I have something to say though, I might have told her I had plans... with you"

Mark just looks at you, feeling shy under his gaze you look away.

"With me?"

"Yea, sorry. You don't have to stay though if you have plans don't worry about it. Go enjoy your valentines day" you told him a bit too energetic than you intended.

Then he smiles, Mark smiles at you like he's keeping a secret he can't wait to tell.

"What?"

"I don't have plans, I was going to ask if you had plans yesterday but I didn't want to overstep"

"What do you mean? You're just asking" you smile back at him, "Did you think I was going to say no like always? Oh my gosh I swear I'm not as heartless. I wasn't-"

"No no no, of course I didn't think that. I mean I don't think you're heartless" he pauses to collect his thought because right now words are flying out faster than he can think of them.

And if he got one chance at this, he'll make sure to do it right the first time.

Then you start speaking again, surprising Mark once again with your words

"Yun-jin said I smile a lot when I'm with you, now that I think about it I think I do. It's just you're easy to be with, and I feel relaxed like I can talk to you about anything and you listen. It's also so fun to listen to your stories, especially when you get this animated look on your face. And when you laugh before you can even say the joke. Am I rambling, sorry I'm rambling"

He takes your hand, holding it in his. Testing the waters to see how you'll react. When you don't pull away, he gets a card out from his notebook. Then he hands it over to you,

Today we are obliged to be romantic And think of yet another Valentine. We know the rules, and we are both pedantic. Today’s the day we have to be romantic. Our love is old and sure, not new and frantic. You know I’m yours, and I know you are mine. And saying that has made me feel romantic, My dearest love, my darling valentine.

You read the note carefully, a smile slowly forming on your face while Mark watches you. When the thinks you finish it, he speaks up

"I read that, and I thought about you. You're worth more than a one liner, more than a single flower. You deserve poems to be written about you, gardens to walk through with the prettiest flowers"

You playfully hit him, reading the card again before putting it in your bag for safe keeping

"I love it, thank you. Now I feel bad I got you nothing"

"It's okay, I didn't even know I was going to give it to you. I was ready to just hide it in my bag for the rest of time" he admits

"Why? It's so nice though"

"Yea but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable"

"I appreciate it really. Out of all the notes I received, I'll keep this one"

At that he smiles.

Like how the story began, with one liner notes and a single flower, who knew you'd find a friend and now something more. Mark is someone you didn't expect you'd have something romantic with especially since you're not really looking for it but it makes sense that you'd end up with him. He makes your days brighter, it's like he bring everything that is good into your world.

When you said he's the kind of guy who beats every fictional character, it's true because he gave you something better than a fairytale; a reality worth living in.

And yes spoiler, you do end up with him. The story ends with you and him. Spending all of your valentines together.

end.

[rafeysbambi]

bambi

part v

summary:

kind, sweet and the definition of innocent, obsessed with pink, bows and all animals but especially deers. y/n has barely held a boys hand let alone been kissed until rafe cameron lays eyes on her

a/n:

hii new part new part ! i’m still on holidays rn so it’s been a struggle to find time to write but i am getting there ! i hope everyone had a blessed christmas x

the rest of lunch went by pretty quickly, your dad ended up having to rush off to see an emergency patient. the car ride home started off silent until your brother finally spoke. “i’m sorry about before y/n truly. i just saw how he was standing over you and lost my cool.” you just nod in response not really mad anymore but not sure what to say. “look i know you probably don’t want to hear this, but i just i’ve heard things about rafe cameron, he’s got a bit of a reputation. i don’t know if it’s true or not but as your brother i just want the best for you.”

you nod taking in his words, “i understand” you pause for a second trying to figure out the best way to word what you’re trying to say. “but i don’t think it’s right to just write rafe off as being some terrible guy when he’s been nothing but lovely to me. i mean who’s even saying these things? ruthie and her lot? how reliable are they?”

“look i’m just relaying what i’ve heard from other people, i don’t know the guy, i don’t know if what they’re saying is true. i just don’t want to see you get hurt. look just- just be careful y/n please.”

“i will.” you give him a small smile before hopping out the car. you essentially raced into your room and hopped straight into your pyjamas, feeling drained from the afternoon you just had. you look at your phone, no new messages from rafe. you find yourself staring at his photos as if trying to examine what goes on inside of his brain.

surely this guy you were opening yourself up to, wasn’t just using you. he seemed so genuine. if he was just using you then why did it feel like that, like electricity. your head was filled with thoughts, unsure whether to trust the words of doubts or the way your heart pounded when he looked at you. the fact he hadn’t messaged you was just making you overthink more. eventually you put your phone down closing your eyes and falling asleep.

when you awoke a couple hours later, you checked your phone to see a message from your brother saying he’d popped out of the house and would be back soon aswell as a message from rafe.

rafecameron: y/n

bambiyn: yes

rafecameron: wow look at you finally responding

rafecameron: can you do me a favour

bambiyn: i was napping ☹️

bambiyn: what’s the favour?

rafecameron: go outside for a second sleeping beauty

bambiyn: what? outside where?

rafecameron: your front door

bambiyn: why

rafecameron: because i asked you to

bambiyn: okay fine

rafecameron: such a good girl

you feel your cheeks hear up as you read the message. you make your way downstairs to your front door putting on a pair of fluffy slippers. you open your front door to see a gigantic bouquet of flowers. you reach down to look at the the card attached, reading it out.

princess i think it’s time we go on that date you owe me, i’ll pick you up tomorrow ar 6:30 x

[fellow-traveller]

The types of HolPol I can't get enough of 💕...in my head, at least.

-----

1) canon Part 3 HolPol

The main ship. The sexual tension, the rivalry, the jealousy, the enemy-to-lovers trope...the only holpol version that I see them fighting and arguing in, before the lovemaking. It's dysfunctional yet perfect in every sense. I only wished they had more screen time together.

2) half canon Part 3.5 Hol (CDDH) x Part 5 Polnareff

I hc that CDDH Hol did meet up with Part 5 Pol...or at least pre-part 5 Pol before he rode a literal chariot. There's even an au I wholeheartedly supported - Hol joining La Squadra to eliminate the boss, thinking he had offed his beloved Pol, only to be reunited again after he shot Diavolo dead. Love this au because Pol lives ;v;♡

3) semi-canon post-Part 5 HolPol

This is the first au I came up with. Unlike the one above, Hol had lost Pol pre-Post 5 and went on a hunt for him, only to run into a group of thieves who infiltrated Passione (now led by Giorno) to steal the arrowhead. Things happened, Pol somehow had his turtle body transformed into a human (it's an OC's Stand power...I can elaborate if you're interested), and they both went on an adventure from Italy to Germany to get the arrowhead back. Not entirely a romantic HolPol story...I just want them to go on a JoJo-like adventure for once.

4) Steampunk/Post-apocalyptic AU (gunslinger Hol x swordsman Pol)

This came up on a whim. I didn't extend it much other than Hol was a hired gun who teamed up with engineer Avdol and their pet Iggy, going from one location to another for jobs. Meanwhile, Pol was on a mission to escort the priest Kakyoin to a city. They met, fought together, kiss, bed wrestle, so on and so forth...

5) Fantasy/Medieval AU (knight Pol x prince Hol)

This started with a mix of my own reading about tarot cards and some neat fanarts of Pol in an armour and Hol on a royal throne. Then my hands got itchy and I played with ChatGPT with this idea. The AI gave me a handful of short stories that eventually made me fell in love with this au. Somehow their love story also included Avdol as a royal advisor, Jotaro as another knight, and Dio as the enemy warlord.

6) Domestic/Modern AU HolPol

I know this is a boring au, but hear me out. Pol, a fashionista, socialite city boy, in love with Hol, a rugged, charming rancher from the mountains. Two different worlds, yet they made a cozy, loving household together. Boingo and Sherry would be supporting them a lot, if not join in their shenanigans. I will forever gush with this au, and anyone's interpretation of this au , for me, is hella valid.

-----

Here's to more HolPol next year! :D

[blacklegsanjiii]

Ohhh!!! I hadn’t known about the vivre card.. that’s so good. Them slowly learning emotions is just as interesting.

I can only imagine 124ji get told to be careful around Sanji as early as possible because once they start roughhousing, it’s stuff that can break his bones no sweat, and they kind of need a framework to not crack their brother in half by accident. But they internalize it a little too hard. All they take away is that Sanji is FRAIL in general, and the idea that they are fundamentally different. Not in a negative way, but they start clinging to him and stopping him from doing things because they don’t have a gauge for what’s safe for him, just that they three are a lot tougher than him and thus they extrapolate They should be the ones doing things. When they’re very young it’s not for any particular reason, they haven’t really gotten there in terms of learning empathy. So it’s for some stupid reason, like them having come in a set of four and it being kind of awkward if they lost their third.

Sora and Mihawk have a hell of a time trying to correct that behavior because that wasn’t what they wanted the kids to take from it at all, but at least it’s better than the alternative, and eventually they get it to stop for a while… up until they start learning some emotions and identifying the ones they have, even if they’re muted.

They figure out they love their brother. They love the rest of their family, too, but they’ve never been presented to them as frail the way Sanji was. So they start doing the clinging again because they figured out that with this realization that they love him, the idea of ever losing him or having him be out of commission just becomes unsettling and uncomfortable. And this time Sanji is the one who gets them to stop— he wants to be independent, damnit!

By the time they’re adults it’s mostly gone away, but it’s an old habits die hard thing. There’s all these little movements and gestures they do when Sanji’s around that indicate they want to, but they’re holding themselves back. They get that their brother is now strong, maybe even as strong as them even if he doesn’t have an exoskeleton, and he’s competent and happy and does things on his own no issue, but the instinct remains.

(ALSO SORRY THIS ASK IS SO LONG!!! I’m a writer in my own right, and your stuff inspires me a bunch at times -v-)’’ )

NO PLEASE THAT MEANS SO MUCH DON"T APOLOGIZE!!! I AM SO FUCKING HONORED???

So 124ji, for as long as they can remember being corrected from climbing on Sanji or hitting him or kicking him. Sanji cries when they do it but they don't. They don't get it for the first few explanations that Sanji is softer than them, not as sturdy. So 124ji are confused because why is Sanji so frail? They're all the same! Except Sanji has a picture like Mama and Papa but his isn't colorful. It's pretty though! So they start internalizing Sanji being frail and fragile. So they start not letting Sanji do things. If they hear any chastisements from their parents they don't let Sanji do those things anymore. Cracking eggs with Papa? Nope! Climbing to sit on the back of the chair or whatever? Not allowed! They're a set and you can't break the set!

Sora and Mihawk are staring at them in amusement but also knowing they fucked up with the corrections because they won't let Sanji be independent. The little blond is suddenly at the back of the line the kids travel in. He's not allowed to be in the water because he might drown, despite the fact they can all drown-bath time is such a struggle now. It was only because Sanji had waded a tad to deep on the beach without him or Sora or Reiju and now the three of them are telling Sanji he can't take a bath and Sanji is getting upset and looking at Mihawk with teary eyes. So Mihawk bathes those three, drops them off with Sora and Reiju and then bathes Sanji because lord have mercy he has four boys and Reiju's just as bad.

They do eventually correct the corrections so Sanji can be wild and free and cook. It took a while but they're lovely kids, really. They swear. They have their challenges but it's good. Mihawk never thought he would have a family this big so it's nice and he has Sora, something else he never thought he would be able to say. The fact that some nights Mihawk and Sora are pulled into the library with all the blankets and pillows the kids can find and a fort made big enough for them all.

And when they're older and learning emotions? They learn they love their brother and fall back into old habits. Especially when they learn that Sanji is the only one of them with a soulmate. So they have to protect him if someone out there is going to love their brother as much as they do. They all doubt Sanji's soulmate will BUT the point remains! So they fall back into their old habits, if Sanji gets sick they're the ones taking care of him. Any knicks, or cuts or scrapes or anything they bandage. It's almost like they're developing anxiety over but Sanji keeps insisting he can take care of himself. He starts refusing their help and being coddled by them. So they start letting him and living with that unsettling feeling but as they get older it gets less and less, easier to deal with. Sanji knows they love him, even if he is different.

When Sanji goes to work and then joins the crew and it's nice to breathe and fight and have equal matches to him and Sanji loves his Nakama he does. Eventually though, probably post timeskip. The crew is astonished at Mihawk because he's so fundamentally different with five kids and a soulmark he doesn't hide. 124ji are all over their brother as Reiju watches softly and points it out to their mom. They're being good when Zoro and Sanji fight and Luffy flings himself into the blond. Half steps taken then back tracked, jolts of hands that can't decide where to be. The brothers have worked hard okay? They know he's capable and have read the news.

Then the tips of Sanji's soulmark peak above the collar of his shirt, and Niji, loving Niji, sees it's not just an outline but can't tell if it's greyed out or not demands Sanji to take his shirt off so they can see. They're back to being all over the cook as the crew watches.

[aizawaskittenwhore]

august first—r. braun

summary: you fuck reiner as a birthday gift. that’s pretty much it.

notes/content warnings: rough sex, facefucking, degradation, choking, some angst cause relationships are messy, unprotected p in v sex cause we raw dog over here, armin is a sweetheart and eren needs to go to bed, i think i covered everything but let me know if i missed anythin!

this was meant to be a birthday piece for rei 😔*stares in september * to be completely honest i have zero idea how long this ended up being but it’s been taking up space in my drafts and i kinda freestyled it so enjoy sexies <3

the floor is sticky with liquor, limestone tiles splotched with little islands of red as reiner’s body meets it, it’s surface tacky beneath his flushed skin. his head lolls back against the dial of his dishwasher, seeming to relish in the surrounding moment. the apartment is quiet with the din of murmured voices, gentle rustling of keys , someone slipping on a jacket, a faint “who’s riding with jean?” uttered from one of the many intoxicated partygoers; as for who , he does not know.

all reiner is aware of is the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, body warm with the coat of whiskey, the glow of his solar return pervading the sallows of his face from the previous year’s torment; as if filling a once-deflated balloon with air yet again.

confetti has woven itself into the carpet, solo cups littering the surrounding dining room, a cake still sits on the table, half-eaten. “happy birthday reiner” it read, for a total of ten minutes. only reiner’s name remains due to your insistence that the birthday boy should get to eat his own name, and in pure self-adoring leo fashion, he co-signed.

and there his name sits, beneath its hard plastic shell as his gifts are sprawled around, some big, some small; though reiner had insisted that presents weren’t necessary by any means, you all came together to at least get him a few things to remember the day by. and what a day it had been. he was grateful. and so, so drunk.

his body suddenly takes a dive to the right—he had failed to realize his passive swaying from side to side and lost his balance—his face finds itself directly in your lap, nose mere inches away from knocking over a rather tall bottle of grey goose lingering not too far from your current position. you’re not much better than he is, face flushed and your smile dazed, as you begin to card your fingers through his hair, seemingly unaffected by his sudden landing.

“hey, we’re gonna head out.” armin says, footsteps lightly sticking with every step he takes further into the kitchen. he grimaces at the noise, but says nothing, in favor of checking on the pair of you. yet before he can utter the words “are you guys alright?” a hefty grip on armin’s wrist from the stockier blond sends armin to his knees, discombobulating the shorter man momentarily before he was met with a fierce hug.

“thank you..for coming.” reiner had been struggling to properly pronounce his syllables since the fourth round of tequila shots with eren, but those four words were the most coherent he’d been all night. the sentiment wasn’t lost on armin, and he returned the embrace, even if his lungs felt the slightest bit compressed the longer they hugged. “n-no problem!” armin pats his back thrice and shifts his gaze to you once reiner pulls away and nestles into your lap yet again. “would you like a ride home? you and sasha live not too far from each other, so it’s on our way.” he offers, so thoughtful as always. you begin to nod your head, thinking of the throbbing sensation that’ll soon swim within your temples, your lack of a change of clothes, along with numerous other things—

“i don’t mind if you stay..” reiner mumbles, a hand swirling patterns into your thigh. “never have, you used to sleep over all the time. i still got your toothbrush, s’ in my bathroom” he’s drunk, there’s no nuance , it sounds so scandalous when he says it like that and yet your heart picks up when he says your toothbrush is still in your space in his bathroom. you contemplate his words, given that it’s two minutes shy of one am (from what you can make out via a blurred glance at the microwave), and it is rather late..

armin surveys the two of you with a knowing glance, choosing to once again say nothing. he’s always been one for reading between the lines, clearly there’s some unspoken tension between you and the birthday boy, a history even. “n-not like that.” you laugh, pulse quickening as you try to divert armin’s attention from reiner’s hand attempting to work its way up your thigh, minuscule movements of his hand feeling like leaps and bounds over your already heated skin. “there was a time where i was going through some shit, so reiner let me hang here for a little while. it’s not nearly as..uh..intimate as it sounds.” your voice is low, your head leaned towards armin.

“i don’t mind sleeping here though. it’s one in the morning, and you’ve already gotta take sasha and eren’s drunk ass home. i’ll be good here.” a smile, and a gentle hand on armin’s shoulder is enough for him to leave you with reiner for the night.

“text me if you need anything, okay?”

mikasa‘s jacket and eren’s vomit crusted dress shirt clink amongst armin’s keys as he makes his way to the door (the shirt is tied in a plastic bag, he’s not a psycho).

‘maybe the mad dog jello shots were a bit much’, you think, saying your goodbyes to everyone as they stumble down the remainder of the driveway, jean corralling each person into their designated cars, and silently regretting his decision to double up with armin tonight to drive. it doesn’t help that he’s shoeless, considering eren yacked all over those too. it’s not funny, but it is, and you laugh as the door clicks behind you.

parties have a very poignant atmosphere.

they fill the space and somehow suck the air out of it once it’s over. but what you feel right now has nothing to do with the party and everything to do with the tension between you and reiner. who seems to have disappeared from his spot on the kitchen floor and made his way to the shower, leaving behind a trail of clothes in his wake. his loft is spacious, open floor plans met with a man’s taste in furniture (which equates to the bare minimum, sadly) and sumptuous windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. it’s one way glass, can’t see in but you can see out, rather convenient considering reiner had a very bad habit of never wanting to wear clothes around the house. case and point, the calvin klein boxers strewn across his floor. ‘jesus, even when he’s drunk he’s a slob.’ you think, grimacing as you reach for them in an attempt to chuck them into the nearby hamper—

“sorry for the mess.” he mutters, stepping out of shower as a plume of steam clings to the nearby mirror. towel hanging from his waist, hair slick with water. the scent of his soap and deodorant envelop you as he walks past, rifling through his dresser in an attempt to find clothes for the both of you. from the quick glance at his figure you’d allowed yourself, you quickly deduce that reiner finally made good on that crossfit membership he’d been blabbing about for the last three months. he was always handsome, always with a body that looked like it was carved from stone but the torso you’re looking at (and shouldn’t be) has gotten a major upgrade. ‘this is a bad idea’ you think to yourself, wondering how you allowed a spur of the moment decision lead you back into a bedroom you swore you’d never step foot in again.

you weren’t lying to armin when you said that the conditions of you staying with reiner weren’t romantic, that part was true; but the last time you were in this house, this room, things weren’t exactly…platonic.

“i found these, pretty sure you forgot em when you were leaving.”

a grey t-shirt and a pair of panties plop onto the bed where you sit, and you cringe upon the realization that you’d even left anything here to begin with. he offers you a pair of his sweatpants to help preserve your dignity, but you decline, knowing there’s no way they’d fit you.

“you remember where the towels are, yeah?”

you nod. third door to the left, past the coffee maker.

“cool. use whatever’s in there, i don’t care. i’ll be in the living room, so if you need somethin’ just yell.”

you give him a thumbs up as you disappear into the bathroom, the humidity mimicking the haziness of your mind as it begins to wander, your hands slippery with soap as you run the cloth over the curve of your hip, the same way he did that night.

“fuckkkk.” the sight before you is delicious, blonde burrowing it’s way between your thighs as reiner tongues your clit; a man starved. lust has taken over the bedroom, coiling around the two of you and winding so tight you feel as though you might burst, but if this is what it feels like to be consumed, you don’t mind one bit. he’s rutting against the bed desperately, your moans sending him into a frenzy; his mouth pools with your essence and he can barely contain himself. he adds his ring and middle finger to the equation, sensing you need more, just the slightest bit extra to bring you to paradise and you keen with pleasure.

“don’t stop..m’ gonna cum..” you’re shaking now, thighs shuddering around his ears and your pulse begins to throb so hard you can feel it in your temples, each wave of dopamine crashing over you, into you; you’ve never gotten head like that before. trust, you’d remember if you had. his tongue wanders in the mess you’ve made between your legs, and his face is no exception. your slick glistens in the cropped cut of his facial hair, and before you can utter a word of embarrassment, his tongue is giving you a taste of what he’d worked so hard to pull from you. the kiss is filthy, lips slotted together with strings of saliva; they break like bubbles when you pull away for air.

“shit!” lost in reverie, you’d failed to notice the increasing temperature of the shower water until it scalds your skin, shocking you back to the present moment. soft linen wraps around your body, soothing the harsh burn, legs still shining with droplets as you towel off, noting that you smell just like reiner does; but you’d rather not ride that train of thought. you make your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, brow raising as you realize his slice of cake is missing.

“the fuck?”

“what’s wrong?” floats from the living room.

“the hell happened to your cake?” you peer around the corner, and find the answer to your question stuffing his face. “nevermind.” you laugh, taking a seat on the couch, a cushion separating the both of you. he gestures with his left hand, offering a fork full; you take it, given that you’re both still not sober and this slice of sponge cake is the closest thing you’ve had to food in the last few hours. buttercream icing coats the roof of your mouth and you moan in sheer joy.

“oh my god.”

“right? shits’ so good” reiner mumbles, already on his last bite. his eyes are closed in bliss and you can’t help but feel jealous, you ache to be the cause of his expression rather than some slice of confectionery. little do you know, when your head turns, his eyes rake up the expanse of your bare thighs, resolve crumbling little by little. you’re beautiful, beyond it. he fights the urge to caress you and settles for a loaded question:

“why’d you say that to armin?”

“say what?” you respond. you’re avoiding his gaze intentionally, you know exactly what he’s asking about, this just isn’t the time.

“that it ‘wasn’t like that’ when i said you could stay the night.” the fork clatters against the cardboard of the cake box, filling the silence for a second, but it does nothing to ease the awkwardness of this interaction. “because it’s the truth? i didn’t start staying here so we could be fuck buddies—“

“—but that’s what happened, right?”

“reiner. don’t start this again.” you warn, tone firm. it’s not that you don’t want to talk about this, it’s been weighing on your heart since the night you left, but what could you say? you were running from the problems in your relationship and escaped into the arms of someone you called a friend, and very quickly that became much more than a friendship. the man your boyfriend couldn’t stand became your shoulder to cry on, and dick to ride. and in the end, everyone got hurt. you included.

“how’s galliard?” his voice seems harmless, but you sense the smugness that lies beneath.

“really? now?”

“it’s just a question.”

a pause.

“i haven’t seen him since..you know. we’ve spoken though. he seems to be doing alright, i think.” you answer. you briefly remember a photo dump he posted coming across your feed, he was in the netherlands with his brother last you heard, but that’s as much as you know. you’ve kept your distance from your ex since the fallout of your breakup, and for good reason. considering the last time you’d spoken, he’d told you that he “hopes it was worth it” and that you were dead to him.

you couldn’t be mad. if the roles were reversed, you’d have probably said the same.

the relationship (despite its relatively short run of five months) was volatile, and galliard has never had a desire to communicate with people in a way that isn’t riddled with hostility and aggression. it was the source of many arguments, and “i’m sorry” voicemails. one night you got sick of it, the pettiness, tit for tat, the pointed indirect insults in front of friends, the building of resentment every day you stayed together; so you left, needing to clear some space in your already heavy heart. a bag hurriedly packed, you’d found yourself at the door of a friend who you knew would have questions, but would never judge.

but friends don’t do the things you have done with one another.

“why did you invite me tonight?” since we’re asking loaded questions.

the text came as a surprise, a simple invitation and an address linked in a text message: ‘hey. my friends are throwing me a birthday party tonight. my house. i was wondering if you wanted to come. it’s cool if not, here’s my address tho in case you forgot it’

“i wanted to see you.”

“bullshit.” you scoff.

“why would i lie? you know how i feel about you.”

a pause.

“prove it.” the reposado speaks for you now, and you’re feeling dangerously curious to see just how far reiner will go. intoxication makes for a great truth serum, you’ve learned. he balks at your challenge, pupils shattering and reforming all at once as he attempts to snap himself out of whatever daydream he’s conjured. it has to be, there’s no way you’re sat so prettily on his couch making “fuck me” eyes, with a sliver of your panties visible beneath that thin fucking shirt. it’s a dream. has to be.

a chuckle. “you’re fuckin with me, right?” reiner’s fidgeting slightly, trying not to draw your attention to his increasing arousal.

“not even a little bit.” you’re so close he can feel your breath ghosting along his lips, a hair away from unleashing the pent up sexual tension between the both of you, but you don’t move any further. “i feel kinda bad..you invited me to your party, and i didn’t even get you a gift.” you pout.

“you can make it up to me.”

he’s finally gotten the courage to make the first move, securing both hands around your waist and tugging you into his lap. your clit pulses almost rhythmically when your lips meet, and the noises he’s making aren’t helping. “take these off.” he groans, plucking the waistband of your panties. you oblige his request, but the cool air still makes you shiver when your back hits the couch, legs spread. his eyes rake up your body, once, twice, before his middle and ring fingers take their place spreading your lips; they trace circles around your clit once they’ve spread enough of your juices around to slicken things up, but he’s just getting started. all the little gasps and cracks in your voice drive him insane, and while reiner loves to tease, he couldn’t wait any longer to taste you. locking himself between your thighs, his arms securing your legs around his head, he makes sure to hold on to your hips when he begins to suck on your clit. there’s no running for you, not when you’ve been dangling this pussy in front of him all evening. his tongue is fluid, slippery when it strokes your sensitive nub from every direction, he’s everywhere and somehow you still want more. “feels so good..don’t stop—” you beg, hips bucking into his face. he loves seeing you so fucked out, so desperate to cum all over his tongue, it only encourages him more as his fingers curl against that spot that makes your vision dip, and you gush all over his lips and jaw. your face burns with arousal and mild embarrassment, but he couldn’t be more pleased.

“can’t believe you let me eat this pussy ..and you made me watch you cum all over my face…such a slut.” he mumbles, his tongue still running laps around your clit. still throbbing, still sensitive. your body shivers and shakes with the continuous sensation, but reiner couldn’t care less. he licks and sucks with reckless abandon for a minute or two longer, before finally detaching himself from you, and giving your body reprieve. you struggle to catch your breath, your attention now drawn to the tented fabric below reiner’s torso. knowing it’s a shitty thing to think of in the current moment, you can’t help but lament at just how much thicker he is than your ex.

then again, reiner braun has never been, especially physically, average.

you splay your hands across his length as he pulls you in, neurons firing when you taste yourself on his tongue. he groans into your mouth, his eyes fluttering when you’re stroking and twisting your hand like that—

a brief disconnection of your lips forces his eyes open, but it’s worth it when he gets to sear the mental image of you spitting into his dick into his eyelids for eternity. your hand strokes the hottest noises out of him, the schlick-schlick of your motions only getting faster when filth begins to pour from his lips.

“mhm. just like that—fuck, i missed my nasty girl.”

you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before. and that’s saying a lot, genuinely. your tongue winds around his tip, settling against the underside of his shaft as you descend; the remainder of his dick is in your right hand as you work him over. your efforts matter little though, as reiner has other plans for your tight, tight throat. his hand settles at the base of your neck, winding his fingers at the root of your hair, and grips. rocking you backwards and forwards, he bullies his cock into your throat, and he nearly cums when he watches your eyes well up with tears; at first you panic at the activation of your gag reflex, but your throat slowly relaxes once you realize resistance is futile.

“take it…ah, shit—just like that mama, feels so fuckin good..such a good girl when im fuckin your face” he praises through gritted teeth, pumping himself with your throat a few more times before stopping, and changing your position so that the two of you were in missionary. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you soaked whenever he’d handle you so roughly, the way your eyes would glaze over and your body would become completely pliant for him and him only. for him to be such a typically serious and quiet man, reiner was so mean, so cocky when he fucked; even teasing you for the way you whine when he puts the tip in: “what’s the matter? can’t take the real thing? i know it’s—”

he retreats, and slams back in, taking a ruthless pace. “a lot bigger than those little boys you whore around with.” he finishes with a whisper, folding your knees into your tits as he throws your legs over his shoulders. “m’ n-not a whore..” you whine, voice cracking.

“no? you haven’t seen me in three whole months, you come over for a few hours and the first thing you let me do was stretch out this tight little cunt.” he taunts, a thumb circling your clit. “y-yeah..m-missed you..missed this dick—“ you babble, eyes rolling.

“i know baby, i know, let me in, let daddy make you feel good.”

“j-just like that, fuck fuck fuck” you feel like you’re on the verge of collapse, his cock is pummeling it’s way into your stomach, his sweat is glistening in the glow of his lights and it’s taking everything in you not to beg this man to cum in you here and now. “only whores know how to take dick and still be able to beg for more.” he taunts, his little hair trick from before making an encore appearance as he forces you to watch yourself be debauched, a thick white ring forming at the base of his length like a badge of honor. he was fucking into you so fast and so deep it made you dizzy, but you were too far gone. “love when you fuck me like this’, love when you slut me out” you mumble, teetering on the edge of cumming, you’re so close you can taste it—

“fuck, you’re so fuckin’ nasty, such a good girl for me, always lettin’ me get my way.” reiner moans, a hand wrapped around your throat and a good squeeze has your vision exploding, you melt and your body goes limp, senses still firing off as he coats your insides with sticky white seed.

the aftercare is, to be real, half assed. you’re both exhausted, but reiner still makes sure you’re wiped down with a hot towel, and carries you to bed upon your insistence that you’d, quote, “love to enjoy the sleep part of being fucked to sleep”. you doze off quickly, and reiner follows suit shortly after; the both of you failing to hear reiner’s phone emit a soft ding!

eren 2:23am

you owe me that 20 dollars

your apple watch is still synced to my phone from leg day man…not judging tho. get in there soldier 🫡

[lilys0evil0twin]

.... Y/n is quite pleased with this new boyfriend of hers. He's overall sweet and kind unlike the other jerks she dated~ Now she wanted to know how he is in bed So invited him over to her house,saying she has a fun game and wanted him to play with her~ Heracles being the sweet innocent himbo he is,agreed. He probably didn't expected to be pushed onto the bed by his gf, who is wearing a sexy lingerie that made him overheat minutes ago. Y/n sitting on him just simply smirked and say:"Oh darling I'll make sure to love you fully tonight, let me give you a taste of pleasure~"

-Anon

Who's ready to destroy the innocence of this gentle mountain of a football player?! Enjoy!

Uhh please don't get confused at my constant switching of his name... I don't know myself

Warnings: smut, nothing much just Hercule losing his v-card.... Hard

Word count: 4198

School, the hell on Earth. The stress of constant exams, the lack of sleep and as Y/n says; being surrounded by morons. Every teacher thought their subject is the most important in students' life, girls fought for every cute guy, spreading lies and secrets around the school and all the guys wanted in return of playing hard to get, was to fuck and move on.

Y/n was tired of it. This highschool stereotype. This teen stereotype. So, out of boredom, she decided to claim males reputation. She became a fuck boy. Well not eternally, but you know what, why not give those bastards a taste of their own medicine. Through out the years her reputation grew, she played the popular boys, the cute chicks. Everyone were gossiping about her but she knew it all about the others. The high-class girls started to fear her, for obvious reasons. You know the song "Take your man" by Mahogany Lox?

"I can take your mans, if I want to

But lucky for you, I don't want to"

And to the male party? The ones brave enough approach her, the ones with death wish will try and flirt, the others just admired from afar....

.....

"...Heracles.."

"Heracles...?"

"HERACLES!"

The sudden loud call of his name strattled the mountain of a teen. Currently in the middle of lunch break, Heracles was sitting at his usual table with his close friends; Castor, Jack and two years younger Göll, who was more like his little sister really. Now with his attention finally focused, Heracles turned towards his friend. "What are you doing, your food's getting cold" the teen with a bob cut asked picking on his rice. With a small, confused 'hm?' Heracles looked down towards his plate "Wha- Oh, ya! Sorry I kinda got lost in thoughts" the ginger smiled, putting a mouthful of already cold marinated chicken with vegetables in his mouth. A small laugh could be heard over the voices in the cafeteria, opposite from the ginger football player.

"Come on Hercules, go talk to her~" their senior Jack laughed, seeing his friend's face go totally red. "T-Talk to who?!" whispering a chocked yell, the football player's tough facade flew out of the window. Jack only raised an eyebrow "You know who, Y/n L/n of course! The Miss unapproachable? The, sorry for the expression, Fuck girl of the school?" Heracles only mumbled something shyly, staring holes into his food. Göll giggled beside him, leaning to catch his eyes. "Don't be scared she'll definitely like you!" she said with so much enthusiasm, it was a wander how it fit into her small form.

"I'm not scared! Why would I be? Wha? Wh-what are you even implying??!"

"Oh please, you're kind, funny and handsome! A total gentleman!" Göll clapped her hands, frowning her eyebrows in determination. Hercules only blushed, buds of sweat forming on his forehead and turned towards Y/n's table over his shoulder. "Oh look now's your chance! She's talking with my sis!!" Göll pointed towards her, jumping in excitement. But Hercules hasn't moved, quickly turning to his plate head falling between his stuff shouldes. Castor leaned closer to Hercules smiling gently. "Look you should talk to her, that way it won't weight you anymore" Jack leaned back sipping his tea as Hercules took a breath.

"Aaaand you can't be a virgin forever~"

"JACK!"

Hercules could hear his friends bicker and laugh as he neared hit target. Just as he was in sight field Brunhilde smile at him in greeting. "Oh, hey Heracles" Brun's voice made Y/n turn and see who was the unlucky soul that decided to interfere in their conversation. Her e/c eyes met with sharp baby blue ones of a surprisingly tall guy. Unimpressed she raised a brow waiting for him to voice his request. The boy cleared his throat, lightly preparing himself. "I apologize for disturbance ladies, but uh," he took a pause, eyes flicking between the two girls "m-may I talk to Brunhilde for a minute please?"

Brun slowly turner her eyes away, looking towards the table Hercules left moments ago, only to meet with the excited shines of her younger sister. The girl was squeezing her tumbs so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her overjoyed form was moving around in her seat, quite opposite to the boys sitting at the same table. Both looking they're way in interested, Jack's heterochromatic eyes slightly squinting in mischief, small smirk hiding under his slowly growing mustache. Obviously getting the hint Brun smiled turning her attention back to Hercules' nervous form. Resting her cheek against her hand, she asked "Oh is it about your game today?" the glit in her eyes showed Hercules she wants him to follow her lead, so despite knowing what she's implying, he obeyed.

"Ah, um yeh.. yes" he nodded nonchalantly. Brunhilde smiled sweetly "Yes, I'll come watch" she turned to her companion "Wanna come with me?" Y/n only hummed, playing with her food. "Ya, why not. I have nothing better to do anyway" she sighed and returned to her food, not really glancing at Hercules. His eyes twinkled as his lips twitched upwards slightly. After a short moment of silence, it started to feel a little awkward.

"So um, I'll see you both there then" he smiled sheepishly turning away to leave before the lunch break finished. But before he left he heard Brun "We'll cheer for you!" Heracles only chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed.

.....

Y/n kinda wanted to check out the football game today so she'd visit anyway. But why not play hard to get? Now she was sitting beside Brunhilde on stands, watching the game unfold. It was interesting. Well not the game itself, but rather the players. I mean who wouldn't like tall, sweaty men ramming and wrestling with each other while the prettiest girls in the shortest skirts cheering them on.

Y/n was intrigued, here and there she caught the Hercules boy looking their way. Of course she couldn't tell whether he was looking at Brun or her. Brun was the friend of his after all.

Brunhilde on the other hand didn't miss those small smirks of his everytime Y/n cursed their team for losing the ball. Brun was determined, she knew this plan would work. Despite not taking part in this whole Heracless-crush-thing, those quiet desperate signals from Göll were enough to decide she'll take the matter in her own hands.

As the game ended Brun excused herself and quickly left, leaving Y/n at the stands near the entrance to the changing rooms. With a little compliance, Y/n agreed to wait for her friend.

Leaning on the wall she boredly swiped through her phone. With an irritated groan she checked the time. 'God where the hell is she?' pushing herself off the wall, about to leave not wanting to waste anymore time. Well she tried to leave, if it wasn't for the soft wall that someone placed right before her. Grunting courses under her breath, Y/n looked up meeting baby blue irises.

"Oh excuse me miss, are you alright?" Heracles stood before her, sweaty and breathing slightly unevenly. Y/n took a step back and . She must've admit, he looked quite tasty in that football uniform of his. It clung nicely to his chest and shoulders. He was tall with wide shoulders and slim waist. Long ginger hair and some kind on make-up on his face. But as her eyes slid down his abdomen, the same markings peaked from under his shirt. They were even on the same side, but other boys from their team weren't painted like that, maybe it is a tattoo?

"Uhm, m-miss?" his voice was what chaught her attention and she quickly looked to his face. Not that she was hiding that she was literally feeding on his appearance. And that pink tint on his cheeks was kinda cute. "You're surprisingly polite for a guy your age" she grumbled, crossing her arms over het chest "I like it, give me your phone" she said extending her hand. Heracles wanted to say something when Y/n mentioned his politeness, but that was quickly shut down after she asked for his phone. Honestly, his whole brain shut down. So he just stood there, like a statue.

"Hello?" Y/n raised an eyebrow "Are you still there?" Heracles only blinked. "Y-Yah uh... I-It's in my back, i-in the locker" pointing a finger behind Y/n. She turned seeing the entrance to the showers. He even pointed to the wrong direction, damn he's so cute. "Well" she faced him again "then go get it, hop hop! I don't have all day!" She clapped her hands, making him nod and particularly ran to find his bag.

After a minute, Heracles was back. Panting and fluffed up, his clothes wrinkly and hair flying all over the place. Showing his phone into Y/n's face. Y/n only chuckled at his cuteness. He was so desperate and desperately trying to hide it. So cute. She tapped in her contacts, putting a heart behind her name. Then she did the same with his contacts in her phone. Putting him under the name 'Gladiator<3'. After she departed with a wave telling Heracles to text her when he gets home. Leaving this poor boy to freeze where he was, gripping his phone a little too hard, blushing so much that if you looked close enough, you'd see steam coming from his ears.

.....

After some shy messages here and there, those two started texting each other regularly. Becoming good friends in no time. Heracles' personality was probably the main indicator, he was sweet, kind and just so easy to talk to. Good mornings and good nights were a must. Telling each other what they were doing each day, how they were etc.

Until Hercules sent this one message that changed everything.....

Gladiator<3

Hey Herc

Whatcha doin~?

Hey

Nothing much

Just thinking

Thinking?

Abt wha?

You

Y/n really didn't know if it was intentional or if he just sent it and later the meaning hit him like a train, and to be honest Heracles didn't either.

Needless to say he was frightened shitless the next day at school. He even considered not showing up, I mean..... His stomach really felt weird, like he'll throw up if he sees y/n in the hallway.

Thankfully he was able to avoid her the majority of the day, but unfortunately for him Jack took things into his own hands.

Y/n felt bad, like really bad. This guy was the only one that she felt bad for after leaving on "seen". The feeling got even worse during the day, Heracles didn't even text her good morning for God's sake!

By the time lunch arrived, Y/n was on nettles. She hoped she'll see Heracles at their table and maybe would be able to talk it out, but once there only Jack was there to meet her. Reading news on his phone, such a weird fella.

"Hi Jack" Y/n slumped into the chair beside him with a sigh. Jack only hummed at her presence, too deep in the thing he was reading. They never talked much, but we're never in uncomfortable silence, so Y/n never pressured him.

Jack put down his phone taking a sip from his tea. "He's at the gym" Y/n looked up not really getting what he was saying. "Hercules, he's in the gym. He's probably juicing his brain for ideas." Jack specified, looking Y/n into her eyes. She only stared back, not moving a muscle.

"Well? Just go" Y/n stood up and left knocking few students out of her way, leaving only her lunch to keep the company to Jack. Who just continued to drink his tea with a smile.

.....

Pacing back and forth the whole gym Hercules already lost count of how many times he circled the room. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he text her that?? Of course she left him on "seen", what was she supposed to text to that. He wouldn't be surprised if she never texted him again, if never even wanted to see him. But.... He wanted to see her...

God he's so fucking scared. What should he do?

Pulling on his ponytail Heracles groaned, head falling backwards, his eyes closed. How could Y/n call him a gladiator when he's such a coward. Heracles had his back turned to the door when they were banged open by someone. He looked over his shoulder to see who was so impatient, only to freeze in his spot.

"Y/n?"

Stunned by her sudden appearance, Heracles never experienced first hand the "speak of the devil". The poor boy was even more surprised when Y/n walked to him and hugged him. "What the fuck are you doing, huh? Ignoring me like this?" her voice was mumbled due to her face being pressed into his chest. Heracles calmed down a little and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. After a moment of silence Y/n spoke again, now more clearly. "I'm sorry, for not texting you back."

"I meant it"

"What?"

Hercules took a breath, straightening his back. Gathering up courage to look down at Y/n. "I like you"

"You're such a dork" Y/n laughed hitting the stressed out boy playfully.

Yep, they started dating. The play girl Y/n L/n was now in a relationship.

Those two love birds started spending more and more time together, even going as far as to have sleepovers. Y/n didn't believe Hercules was real at some moments tho, he was like from a romantic novel. Taking her on dates, bringing her flowers, listening to her ranting, even gossiping with her.

It was like a dream, Y/n may have really fallen in love. Only one last thing to do to make sure she's really about to invest into this relationship to work. She wanted him to fuck her. I mean... Can you blame her? Every time she saw him laying on the couch in his worn out tank top and sweatpants.

As time went on, Y/n was only hornier and hornier. Plus it was frustrating that even tho she did catch Hercules staring, he never crossed any lines. He only followed her lead. So why not use it to her advantage?

One evening Y/n called upon the girls meeting. She with Brunhilde and her sisters sat in a circle in her room. The problem at hand? How to seduce Y/n's boyfriend Hercules. The girls exchanged ideas:

Hrist was for Y/n to greet him wrapped up like a present, holding a paper with "For Hercules" on it. And if it didn't work then to just grab him and fuck him senseless.

Thrud was for a simple "Netflix and chill", maybe make some snacks to enjoy and just be a lil touchy and he'll surely follow.

Randgriz was too shy to say anything and the other girls just listened excitedly. Except for Alvitr that was sulking, because no one acknowledged her idea with sexy lingerie. Göll with Hlökk nearly passed out three times if it wasn't for Göndul.

And so the plan was made, with the finalizing help of Brun of course. Now it only needs to be put into action.

.....

The plan was simple, text Hercules asking him to stay at Y/n's house. This weekend was perfect because her parents went on some trip and won't be back till the next weekend.

Hercules agreed to stay of course and Y/n got to work. The first day was their usual. They lazied around the whole day and went to town in the evening. The next day however, Y/n sent Hercules shopping while she got ready.

Putting on her favorite red lingerie, ready to confront her boyfriend whenever he comes back.

.....

"H-hey" Y/n pushed Hercules on the bed. He was quick to sit up when she lowered herself before his legs, comfortably kneeling down. "W-what are y-..?" "Don't worry love, just relax and enjoy~" Y/n says seductively pulling his knees apart. With a lovestruck sigh, resting her cheek on his thigh. Her steady breaths brushed past the space of his pants, getting tighter and tighter with each exhale. Slowly unzipping his pants while maintaining eye contact with the blushing boy. First to look away was Hercules, his blush getting darker and spreading all the way from his ears to his chest. Heart drumming in his ears, banging against his ribs so hard he'd think they'll break. He didn't know where to look, it was getting so hot, where should he put his hands, what should he do?! Just as Hercules started to panic a gasp filled the room, his body shaking, mind going blank.

'Y/n! She-She's !! -' taking in a shaky breath

'She's!!'

Y/n only chuckled seeing his flustered state. She licked the under side of his manhood, following the giant vein from it's base to the head. Giving it a kiss with little kitten licks along his slit. Inching her hand towards his base, fingers slowly rubbing in circular motion. The precum rolled from his tip only to be gently licked off, twitching every time she did so. "Y-Y/n.." her e/c eyes peaked from below her long lashes with a seductive look, fire dancing behind her pupils. He couldn't look her in the eye, it was too much. Cowering his blushing face with the back of his hand, he looked away, eyebrows frowned.

"S-Stop.."

"Oh sorry for teasing you love, but you're just so cute~"

Being called cute now? Hercules pressed his lips together, only to open them in a moment letting out a relieved sigh. The warmth and wetness of Y/n's mouth enwrapped his cock. Sighing and moaning softly, Hercules closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of Y/n's throat. Hercules expected a gag from how hard the impact felt, but nothing. Only the small exhale as her nose buried in the short ginger hair, filling her lungs with his musk. This went on for some time, Hercules's moans and grunts sounded over the muffled sounds from the street.

"Y-Y/n"

"Let it out" Y/n said as her deep throat session ended, going back to licks and kisses. Stroking his length at fast pease, her mouth opened over his swollen red tip. The atlete let out a sudden loud groan reaching his big hand for her petite shoulders. "W-wait! Y/n!" She only chuckled moving her hand faster, forcing him over the edge. His hot cum shoot into her opened waiting mouth. Pulling away and sitting on his lap, Y/n swallowed the sticky, slightly salty substance, her e/c gaze meeting his blue one.

"Why did you? ... Doesn't it taste bad?" if his blush could get any darker, it did. Heracles' squinting, teary eyes barely saw his girlfriend. Y/n shaked her head, her h/c locks swinging from side to side "No, you're sweet" she reached for her face, swiping some escapee cum from the corner of her plump lips "Like a candy cane! Here!" and stuffed her seed covered finger into his mouth. His baby blue eyes widened as his shoulders shifted in surprise. Just as he wanted to protest, Y/n pulled her hand away, replacing her finger with her lips. In hopes to calm him down a little, she deepened the kiss, rubbing her tongue against his. Thankfully it did help, seeing as Hercules relaxed his shoulders, his hands unconsciously moving to rest on her hips.

Parting from the kiss to get some air, a small string of saliva hinting on the so recent kiss. Hercules, now completely relaxed, sighed resting his forehead against hers. "That ... That was weird" y/n chuckled again kneading his biceps gently. "Hmm, you'll probably like my juice more.... But I'm a little pent up so maybe later" she said as she moved from his lap. Y/n pulled up the skirt of her lingerie and pulled down her lace panties. Hercules turned his gaze to the side, being the gentleman he is. ...And not really mentally ready for what's to come.

Y/n grabbed his surprisingly still hard dick and aligned the tip with her soaking entrance as she straddled him again. "Sh-Shouldn't we use the protection?" Y/n's eyebrows flew up, her eyes meeting his in surprised gaze. Then smiling brightly hugging his neck and kissed his cheeks and lips repeatedly "That's why I love you! You're not like all the others!" Y/n hopped down and grabbed one, out of many, condoms from the drawer near the bed. Ripping the cover and slowly wrapping the condom on Hercules's manhood. Once finished she hopped on his lap once again and slowly sheathing him inside. Hercules let out a surprised hiss, eyebrows knitting together his blue eyes now tightly shut. Y/n moved her hips from side to side slightly to adjust to his length faster.

"AH, w-wai-- !!" Hercules grabbed her by her hips, stopping her movement. "Y-You're too tight!" He sighed out, resting his forehead on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, his thighs shaking. Y/n waited for her lover to calm down again, gently rubbing his wide shoulders till she felt him move his hips upwards slightly. She pulled his face from her neck, moving his head till their eyes met. With that her lower body moved, slowly at first spreading her love juice around the thin wrap hugging Hercules's length. Hercules's hands holding Y/n's hips slid down to her ass, lifting her body effortlessly, opposite way to his thrusts. Gaining speed with every thrust, the room was filled with their mixed breathless moans and groans.

A small drop of sweat slid down his neck all the way to the pecks on his stomach. Y/n followed the drop with her eyes, feeding on the movement of his muscles with every labored breath. She was fascinated in Hercules' improvisation skills, maybe he was really just shy. Y/n moved her hands from his shoulders. One entangling with his low ponytail, slowly pulling on the band to free his ginger hair, and eventually resting her palm on the back of his neck. The other slid down his heaving chest, shifting the direction as soon as she reatched his bellybutton. Her hand gently held his on one of her butt cheeks.

"A-Are you ok?" Heracles asked breathlessly. It was hard to concentrate on more stimulants at once but her holding his hand may have meant he was doing something wrong. He needed to check. Y/n only chuckled giving him a kiss on his neck. "No, just hold on now baby" it took a second for Heracles to hear the meaning of her words. But by the time he could ask what she meant his hands released her bottom and his back hit the mattress. Her small delicate palms holding his down beside his head. With wide eyes he looked up, meeting her e/c irises. The smirk on her face was devilish. Her eyes nearly glowing in the dark.

"Hold on ok, big boy" with that she bounced on his lap with such speed and force Hercules though he'd pass out. Despite being much stronger, Hercules felt weak, literally under the command of his girlfriend. The coil in his stomach snapped before he could even register it's approach. With a quick movement of his hands he grabbed Y/n's arms and turned them both around. Now with him on top, Heracles stopped, emptying himself in the condom, hiding his head in her neck. He gasped for oxygen, tired and drained but still held himself up, not to crush Y/n with his weight. "Y-You did not.... D-did you?" he asked quietly, Y/n chuckled patting his back. "It's okey, it's your first time after all" she said with a gentle smile, Hercules moved from her neck looking at her face then down between her legs, where his cock still rested in her warmth. Blush returning to his ears he slowly pulled out, making sure to catch everything before spilling. He pondered for a second deciding what to do with it till Y/n smiled again and gently took the full condom from his hands and tied it shut, throwing it out into the bin next to get bed. Heracles' blush was constantly present as he turned Y/n to face him. He kissed her gently and lovingly. With their lips still touching he said "But I want you to feel good too"

His fingers moved between her legs. Y/n laughed and kissed just below his lips, "I love you so much" Hercules smiled "And I you" they both chuckled as Y/n palmed his hand against her womanhood, guiding his fingers.

"My lovely gladiator"