#im so down bad for armored men

[cubtales]

mydei...

[rebelssvy]

MHA ass or boobs? ⋆·˚ ༘ *

with: tenya lida, katsuki bakugou, kirishima eijirou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, sero hanta, denki kamanari, hitoshi shinso

LABELS: suggestive. nothing smutty. headcannon list. ass/boobs and why. plus a little blurb

…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ TENYA IIDA

ass.

he realized it when you sat on his lap in highschool.

✧.*

it was the end your third year, everyone gathered for a party at kirishimas house. drinks were flowing, everyone was bumpin’.

you had been far too tipsy. bumping into everything in your way. you felt a hand grab yours and drag you somewhere else. you were seated down. not knowing it was a person you were sitting on.

meanwhile it was iida, who was now charged with “taking care of you” by mina. had you sat in his lap. ass flush against him.

“hiii!!” you beamed up at him, nuzzling into his chest. he was a changed man.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ KATSUKI BAKUGOU

boobs lets be fr

he zoned in on your cleavage one night out. thanking the gods they gave humans boobs.

✧.*

you two had been in a little bit situationship. almost like dating but without the label. you didn’t mind though, he still treated you like his gf.

tonight you two were out at a hero show. best dressed, you came out in a stunning dress. the lace showing off the best parts of you.

you were in the elevator when katsuki was obviously bothered by somthing. cheeks flushed.

“something wrong?” you asked him, it was just the two of you.

“be my girlfriend.” he pleaded. his speech was fast, you almost missed it.

he groaned, motioning to you. ��it’s just… i want all of that to myself.”

you walked over for a kiss.

“your gorgeous. and god your boobs!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

ass 100 percent.

knowing it from birth.

✧.*

he watched you in the gym. you were his girlfriend for awhile now. scaring away any other men coming around you.

his head followed you, your motions. zoning in on your ass.

he realized in that moment you were too hot for him, walking over he took his hoodie and wrapped it around your waist.

“what’s wrong?” you asked. he shook his head in a nothings wrong way.

“your mine.” he answered.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ IZUKU MIDORIYA

omg both

he would feel bad about choosing either one.

✧.*

the two of you had been spending your sunday in his bed. binging all your favorite movies and shows. getting up only to pee and eat. it was nearing the evening, the two of you were still together.

“what’s your favorite part of me?” you asked him.

“your personality.” he answered without hesitation.

“omggg izuuu you have to pick!!” you laughed cuddled up next to him.

he shook his head, chuckling.

“okay well, what about…. ass or tits?” you questioned him farther.

he stared at you blank. not knowing what to say.

“you expect me to answer that!!” he laughed out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SHOTO TODOROKI

boobs.

in highschool your costume slipped during a training session. forever grateful.

✧.*

as soon as it happened he instantly covered you up. no one was really even close to the two of you. but deep down todoroki wanted to be the only boy too see you like that.

“oh my gosh!! todoroki im so embarrassed. im so sorry you had to see me like that.” you struggled, as he and you walked to the lockers.

“it’s ok.” he replied in short.

“but still i’m embarrassed!” you continued on.

“really you don’t have to be. it wasn’t a sight you should be embarrassed of.” he said in confidence. cheeks blushed.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SERO HANTA

ass

in the middle of a fight, you were dropped into his arms. then you fell. on him.

✧.*

you were falling. and falling fast. your brain racked up every option that could get you out of this alive.

you were swooped up into the arms of your knight in shining armor. then second later you hit the ground with a soft thud.

“damn” sero groaned against the pavement. his back was flat against the ground.

“oh my gosh sero thank you so much!” you said going down to hug him. he groaned out again.

“are you hurt?” you asked him. he kinda took the fall for you.

“no im fine. it’s just..” he said looking down at where you two connected. your ass was flush against his hips.

you gasped not realizing how close you two were.

“if i’m being honest babe. i really don’t mind. i think it’s the one thing keeping me kickin’ right now.” he chuckled out letting his head fall.

he did take the fall for you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ DENKI KAMANARI

boobs

he buys you tops just for you to show off your cleavage.

✧.*

your sneaky boyfriend has always wanted you to show yourself off. he takes so much pride in you.

“hey babe.” he said as he gave you a greeting hug.

“i got you somthing,” he whispered in your ear in the middle of the hug.

he handed it over to you, you opened it with smiles.

“you didn’t have to kami” you said. bringing the top up to your body.

you knew what he was doing. he thought he had the upper hand. but he was completely wrong. you’d didn’t mind the free tshirts though.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ HITOSHI SHINSO

ass

he loves falling asleep on your ass.

✧.*

so here you were. you had been dating shinso for awhile. and the truth had come out awhile ago about his true desire.

too fall asleep on you. using your ass as his pillows.

often times calling you to try to hang out just to fall asleep cheek against yours.

he loved every bit of you don’t get me wrong. but… waking up on his area was a pride and joy. no one else got to feel this feeling. to be so comfortable with you that he was able to do this with you.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

-thinking about doing this with haikyu lmk!!! maybe a mha part two of this with dif characters??

[mono-dot-jpeg]

conversations and quality time - d. malleus, s. idia, h. rook, & t. ace

summary; "i want a man who can yap, so i can enjoy his existence and ignore my own." - me

genre/extra tags; scenarios/hcs, shamelessly writing about my type of men, ranking (but not really) twst boys based of how much i would enjoy their yapping when im feeling empty, fluff, slightly comedy, ace is a loveable dickhead, idia and i are nearly one in the same (im sorry), gaming knowledge included (knowledge not required, it's funnier), rook is rook (and i love that for him), established relationships with all (dating), mischaracterization probably, reader is NOT YUU, written by someone who wishes to have moments like these with a friend, idia is my obvious favorite here im not sorry abt it

a/n; as the summary says. i thought of this like,,, at midnight and i thought abt characters i like and how they would ramble bc i love asmr where people just talk since i slept a lot surrounded by people talking casually during parties and it helps me just silence the raging storm in my mind about being a shitty adult

malleus draconia finds you with no troubles. he always knows when you're available most of the time. and he's always excited to be around his human companion. and he's even more excited to just spend time with you in general.

he could talk on and on for hours. and he does just that when he knows that you're not feeling very talkative or when you're feeling non-verbal. sometimes you just want to enjoy his presence, you like being in the moment. he doesn't question it at all. he knows that sometimes you might not catch everything he's saying, but he can't find it in himself to be frustrated at you.

his voice is so tender and gentle when it comes to being around you. just the right amount of deepness without sounding too rumbly(?). he talks about his interests or his day. sometimes, he even talks about his home if he feels like it. he lets you lay all over him if you want, while he talks. occasionally, he just stops talking to bask in your presence and how much he loves you.

he would read you a story if you asked him

10/10 would fall asleep to his voice

never gets mad if it happened

peak quality time

he would even sit in silence with you if you wanted to

idia shroud is the type of guy to not say anything about his interests until you ask. so you gotta initiate first, and then he just starts... and he doesn't stop. you ask one thing about the game he's playing all of a sudden, he's talking to you about this moba game that has shitty adcs and bad junglers? you might not understand anything of what he's saying, but he's so cute when he's passionate.

depending on the game he's talking about, his voice can change pretty quickly. he's a little squirrel-y but that's the charm of it all. he's more emotional about things that he would like to admit. crying over a lost 50/50 chance for his ssr roll, yelping upon getting dove under tower by 4 other players, complaining about grinding for materials for the newest armor set, laughing about how everyone is bad at the game except him then proceeding to cry about how he's bad at the game upon dying after his previous statement.

the only time he is calm is when he's lying in bed with you. he's still a little panicky, but that's just how he is. he ends up playing his mobile games to calm himself down. if you're lucky, you crawl into his arms without making him too flustered. (he's still getting used to having you in his arms and not a plain pillow.) this section is getting long, but his voice is quiet (when he's not playing a pvp game), deep but not as deep as malleus, but his voice is still like a warm fresh baked cookie or as warm as a nice home. and when he's just whispering to not disturb you... god, what i would do to make that happen for me..

god i love him.. he would do his damn hardest to make sure you're comfortable

he's not one for silent quality time imo

9/10 if you like gamer vibes, 5/10 if you don't like loud

but i love loud but not deafening.

the kind of person i would fall asleep in a discord chat with (not even a discord kitten joke. /gen)

rook hunt doesn't need to even be seen to be spending time with you. you somehow match his freak, and don't find yourself being scared when you feel his lingering presence. for all the compliments and praises he sings every day, he's also very quiet when he wants to be.

you've been dating him long enough to see him as a guardian angel more than a hunter, and he knows it. during the times he does decide to actually be around and not hide in a tree, he's the type of guy to gently praise you until you sleep or talk about every detail about you that he adores.

his voice is low and sweet. he talks quietly with an elegant softness that most pomefiore members are trained to have. when he speaks about things of beauty, he holds an air of admiration and adoration. it's mostly evident when it comes to you.

he would cure all my insecurities

he's so caring, he's literally that cute drawn emoji of just "holds in hands gently"

8/10, i can't handle too much praise, i simply die /j

giving guardian angel in an oddly endearing way

he is gentlemanly elegance !!

ace trappola is a tsundere. you hate to hear it. but he is, sometimes. but he's deceptively caring. he's grumbling about just simply wanting to sit around and do nothing but be near each other but he loves it. he's the one who somehow gaslights you (jokingly) into just sitting together or laying together into moments like these. he'll complain but he's giving you a blanket or tugging you into his hold while he's muttering like a grumpy kid.

he really is the kind of boyfriend who is really a best friend before anything. he's definitely sharing gossip and yapping away as you sit there in his arms, enjoying the way he speaks with energy and drama. he's a little dramatic but when is he not? though there's definitely been a moment where he drops some random lore/gossip about some person and you can't help but laugh in shock because how did he get this information?

his voice is kind of warm? it's hard to explain, but his voice is warm and has a natural mischievous tone to it. he talks to you like you've been around him for years and not just when you first met around the first days of being at nrc. he talks to you like you were his first friend. he's endearing.

he would annoy you if you fell asleep while he was talking

would poke, prod, squish whatever bit of body his hands could get to

9/10, -1 bc being ticklish with ace around is a play fight waiting to happen

giving friends to lovers sweethearts and i love it

we love a grumpy but loving boyfriend !!

[talxe]

Reading the Iliad, Book 10 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

This book is short but does not lack in the entertainment department

Agamemnon can't sleep bc how can he with the war going the way it is?

So he goes out to find Nestor but as he's doing that he runs into his brother Menelaus who also cannot sleep and is doing the same thing Agamemnon is abt to do

Menelaus pitches the idea that they should send someone to spy on the Trojans. However, he's almost sure that no one is going to want to do this job bc its super dangerous

Agamemnon agrees bc the very thought of Hector is making him sweat hard asf

So they split up to gather a council. Agamemnon says he'll get Nestor and tells Menelaus to grab Ajax (Greater), Idomeneus, Meriones, and Nestor's son.

I don't think they say the name of Nestor's son in book 10 or maybe they said it in an earlier book bc I don't know who tf Nestor's son is lol

But Menelaus asks "Um where tf am I supposed to meet you after I'm done??" I really like how NO ONE clears anything up unless asked too

They decide to meet back at Agamemnon's tent

Agamemnon ends up scaring the shit out of Nestor when he enters his tent.

Nestor's like 80 you can't be scaring him like that😭

Nestor suggests they grab Dio, Ody, Ajax (Lesser), and Phyleus for this meeting too

Then Nestor starts shit-talking Menelaus out of nowhere???? LMAO😭😭

"Ur brother's so fucking lazy lol, we still need to get Ajax and Idomeneus but they're on the other side of camp." -Nestor

Why is he acting like Menelaus hasn't been pulling his weight this WHOLE time? Hello?

Then Agamemnon says "You're right as always buuut Meneluas is doing that very thing as we speak so..."

Menelaus catching strays this book ig

Odysseus gets super pissy at Nestor for waking him up so I'm going to assume he's one of those ppl who are just in a bad mood after being woken up. He doesn't seem to be a morning person at all

Nestor shouts at Diomedes to "WAKE UP." A complete 180 from how he woke up Odysseus btw

"Why are u yelling at me?" - Diomedes

After everyone is rounded up in Agamemnon's tent Nestor presents their plan in a way that really told me a lot abt his character

He's like "Hmmmm I wonder who would be willing to spy on the Trojans for us? It has its risks ofc but think of the glory he'd receive upon his return, all the gifts? All the men will ask him to their feasts" (it's a feast not the fucking prom💀)

I really like the way Nestor says it. I can just imagine having been a young man himself at one point he knows how to play into the egos of the men around him

Diomedes is the first to jump at this opportunity

But Dio says he needs a partner and everyone stands up to volunteer

But he picks Ody

Jump to the Trojan camp: Guess who had the same plan as Menelaus? Hector, they have like, the exact same plan.

Dolon who is just some ugly guy decides he'll be the Trojan spy

Both teams of spies run into each other

And Dolon starts running for his life

Diomedes and Odysseus end up catching this guy and he automatically starts crying

Ody asks him a whole bunch of questions abt their camp

Dolon is the world's worst spy bc he tells them everything and by the end he asks "You guys are going to spare my life now, right?"

And Diomedes just goes "Nah.♥️" and CUT THIS MANS HEAD CLEAN OFF

They loot his body and give the armor to Athena

Anyways they get to the Thracians who are currently asleep and Ody and Dio see that the Thracians have some nice ass horses

Diomedes kills 13 of them while they sleep, one was a king.

Once it's time to go Athena has to come down and tell Diomedes that it is time to stop and go home. (they take to horses)

Apollo watches this whole mission happen and wakes up the Trojans

Dio and Ody make it back to camp, Nestor asks where those nice ass horses and that's the end of the book

[ma3mae]

No one likes syringes!

Summary : You gotta take your weekly syringe but you're afraid of needles so how can these mfs (Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi, Aku, Chuuya) convince you to take it 🤷

Genre : bit cracky and fluff, prob lots of teasing bc u know who tf im talking about 💀

Warnings : heartattacks bc we all simp too hard for these men 🛐 maybe a bit of suggestive themes at the end

A/N : managed to inject myself for the first time (aint no drugs, need them bc HEALTH) and bro, my hands r still shaky bc fear 😭 how do ppl do this so easily 💀 also the syringe is like a pen (also for this story) but broo its still scary and i need some bsd character comforting me 😩✋✋

Dazai Osamu

Lets say yall live together and hes at work while u r home alone

cant bring yourself to do it alone bc bro syringes are scary (even if its just a pen bc NEEDLES BRO) 😩😭

So you text him and ask what hes doing and tell him if hes got time to come home asap bc we r nearly crying at this point

hes gonna be SO ANNOYING like "i was just waiting for a text from you~ dont worry, your knight in shining armor will save you"

BROO he prob knew that you gotta take them today and also knew that nothing would be going on at the agency so he couldve stayed at home but nah 😭😭 (sadistic a** fr fr)

but hes still hurrying nonetheless bc hes not that MEAN -right???-

arrives at home and finds you on the couch holding the pen with shaky hands and his heart does feel a TAD bit guilty bc fr he couldve stayed at home and u would have gotten this shit over asap

gon be all like "dw im here now, okay? Lets just get this over with and then we'll cuddle, how about that?"

homegirl is about to cry at this point bc just FREE HER from this misery

sits next down to you and takes the pen from your hands

If you do wanna try it out yourself, he'll gently guide you through it

He knows how afraid you are and teasing would just make you sob instantly bc the pressure is already too much to deal with YEAH U BETTER STFU U TEASE !! jk still love him

will try to change your mind tho by sayinf stuff like "Really? ~ i mean its brave and good of you to try it yourself but I really love helping you, you know. Want to do everything for you, darling." he knows EXACTLY what hes doing to us by saying that

Is prob gonna give us that look and whisper in our ear and shi im sorry im too down bad for this man at this point 😩

if you dont wanna do it yourself then, he'll tell you to look at him while hes pressing the pen onto your thigh or stomach

You still cant keep your eyes off of it? Sry girl, theres only one solution

He'll just click his tounge at you while having that fking smirk on his face as he says "still too distracted, I see? Well seems like theres only one way to help you"

gives you a kiss on the lips and just deepens it while looking STRAIGHT into your eyes got my knees weak for him fr

you only feel a tiny sting and as soon as a "click" is heard, he'll break the kiss and just grins at you as if he didnt trick you lol

but who are you to complain, he sees that you liked it and will def comment on that

"see, love? Wasn't so hard after all. But you still did well. Proud of you as always"

pecks you on the lips again before setting the pen onto the table and wraps his arms around your waist bc NO WAY in hell is he gonna let go after that

"i think i deserve a reward for that~" "you said you were waiting for a text so you KNEW i had to do it today, right?" ".... welp, not gonna apologize on that 🤷🤷🤷"

u can understand why kunikida has to SIGH all the time as soon as dazai opens his mouth but oh well, you're too whipped to care about at this point

wont let you go so guess you'll have to reward him 💅 no ones complaining LOL

if you tell him to help you next time before hes gone for work, he'll def do it bc he loves u but poor kunikida gotta expect him arrive at work late more often bc he wont leave home without rewards 🛐

Kunikida Doppo

You already know that he got the exact day, hour, minute and SECOND written down on when you gotta take your pen

You tell him that the day is enough and that the time doesnt matter but NOO 😤 YOU WILL take it at the exact time

If its at ungodly hours like 3am or smth, bro he'll wake you up like no mercy for his schedule 😭

If u complain to him tho then dw he will rearrange it for u bc he may love to stick to his plans but he wont ignore your needs and stuff either get urself a man who takes care of u like that 😤😤

will prefer to do it before work, so if you're not an early bird then he'll wake u up but dw you'll get a forehead kiss and bro's already fully dressed n' stuff BUT waking up to him looking at you with such a loving gaze will make u forget that its 5-6am or smth 😩

will first let you get up in peace and make u some calming tea bc he knows what will come next ✋

"Y/N, I know you don't like it but you have to take your pen today, okay?"

if we start a tanthrum then he already knows about it like bro's prepared for everything!!

"Kuni, do we really ha-" "Yes." "But you know I dont li-" "Yes and yes. I know you hate it but don't worry, I've already written everything down on how to do it and what to be aware of so its okay to feel afraid but don't worry because I'm here. Nothing will happen and I've already bought your favorite snacks so you'll feel better but dont eat too much of it when I'm gone. "

u already know he spent a night or smth just researching everything about it as soon as you told him

prob even went to a library and once came back home with multiple books in his hands, hes THAT dedicated UGH I LOVE HIM 💕

you could just sob rn bc how did the earth bless you with this man KUNIKIDA I NEED U 😭😭😭

If the pen is kept in a fridge then dw he already put that shit out for it to not be cold anymore (prob counted the minutes and seconds LOL)

he'll sit you down on the bed or couch, disinfect the place on where you'll take it (lol that sounds WRONG) and he'll give you a peck on your forehead before asking if you're alright and ready to go through with it bc no way in hell is he gonna do it while you're too shaken up for it

If you wanna try to do it alone then he'll take your hand into his as you're grabbing the pen, slowly guiding it while praising you for how brave you are for trying this and that hes proud of you IM SOBBING

will also tell you to look at him if you get more afraid by seeing it on your skin

Honestly even if you dont wanna do it yourself, he'll make sure to be there and will praise you every time you get through with it bc you KNOW he means it

Honestly makes you tear up everytime and u just wanna kiss this man fr

you thank him and tell him how glad you are to have him, he'll be smitten even more than he already is

Cup his face with your hands and kiss him bro's gonna find it really difficult to not stay at home and just be in your arms

at the end of the day, his love for you exceeds his ideals so he wouldnt mind arriving at work some minutes later if he gets to have you in his arms for a bit longer

Will arrive at work with such a good mood that hes prob gonna freak dazai out with it especially when he overlooks some dumb remarks from him the power of love YALL but who can blame him, his heart is thumping louder than dazai's rambling LOL

maybe yall will continue when hes back home, who knows 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

Nakajima Atsushi

when you told him about the pen for the first time, he was literally thrown off like "wait, so you have to.... stab yourself regularly with that?????"

hes just SO precious bc his heart's squeezing at you asking him if he could help u bc you just feel so comfortable and just knowing that makes him SWOON

But at the same time hes panicking bc HOW CAN HE DO THAT WITHOUT HURTING U

Ngl hes prob also afraid of needles and stuff 😭 is gonna look at u like the pic above LOL

will ask yosano or even recommend that she should do it but you're like "NO!! im sorry, tsushi but im too scared of her and i feel safe with u :(((("

you got him WHIPPED and DEDICATED bc he'll def research that shit through and through

Will ask his coworkers (prob kunikida) how to best handle the situation

has everything ready but will stumble and be kinda hastily about it at first bc hes prob even more nervous than you are 💀

either it implifies your fear more or its just so ridiculous that you're legit like "ily but im not gonna die or smth 🤨🤨🤨" you cant blame him tho 😤

hes gonna be all like "OKAY OKAY, we got this. No, I GOT this s-so no worries, okay?" bro, BREATHE. Hes just about to pass out at this point jk jk

if you decide to try it out alone, he'll be a bit saddened bc does this mean you dont want him to help you after all?? :(( was he not good enough of a choice to be of help :((( TSUSHI STFU ILY

dw just reassure him that you obviously appreciate his help and still need him to be there bc no way in hell can u do it alone without ur hubby

will tell you everything he had learned about the pen and how to use it with a bit of a tremble in his voice but he pulls through with it!!

You manage to do it and BOY get ready for a rant on how proud of you he is

will want to pamper you with kisses on ur face "tsushi, i know that look. Go ahead and do it, dont hold back" "really, y/n!!?" "😩 bro do it ok" will try to hold back with gluing himself onto you but how can he NOT

If u dont wanna do it urself then it will prob go like this:

its time for yk what and he sees the genuine fear in your eyes but dw he got you

hes prob gon be like "my s/o need me rn and i have to help them!!!" hes actually gonna remember everythinf he looked up and prob memorized for you bc hes AN ANGEL will put his forehead against yours and tell you to look at him "i wont let anything hurt you and happen to you. You're afraid and honestly im afraid too but you and i will get through this, okay?" gives you the most lovestruck smile ever before he looks down and counts to three

"breathe in, y/n. It will be okay" he ignores his slightly trembling hands and at the count of three inserts it. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER📸📸📸

as soon as yall hear a click, he quietly counts to three before pulling it out and BROO the relief is refreshing af

"WE DID IT, Y/N!!!" Is hella giddy bc how can he not be proud of the both of you!!!! You did it!!! will honestly pull you in a hug bc hes just so happy

prob gonna realise that he just did it without asking u and will be sheepish all like "o-oh sorry, i just got too excited" "no tsushi. We should be happy about this so dont let go!!" no need to say it twice bc hes gonna wrap his arms even tighter around you and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck ILL GIVE U A KISS TSUSHI 🛐🛐

will he feel bad for arriving at work a bit later? Maybe but a scolding from kunikida wont hold him back from holding you for a tad bit longer

He'll be a bit less nervous for the next times and it will surely decrease with each time bc practice yk but will obviously still hold you until he made sure that you're feeling okay afterwards

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Bro's nearly flabbergasted bc why are you making such a FUSS 🤨🤨 im sry dont sue me

"Calm down, you idiot. It's only a pen. You dont even SEE the needle."

dont ask him why hes staying with you if its JUST a needle then bc bro will prob just straight up get up and leave if you point it out 💀

will prob be the first to not even suggest but just TELL you to do it yourself aku im hurting over here 😩

will prob make an effort in atleast roughly skimming through a website about it prob smth weird like wikihow LMAO

If he does see you how afraid you really are of it, hes rly trying his best to ignore the small ache its giving his heart bc he takes no pleasure in witnessing u be so afraid✋ its still JUST a pen in his eyes at the end of the day lol

will just sigh and snatch that shit from your hands bc he cant bear to see you like this any longer are we looking that pitiful, probably LOL

But he'll be surprisingly soft with his touch, nearly just ghosting you with his hands is that even a term, nvm yall know what i mean

Hes just gonna be straightforward with it bc the faster its over the better. He wont admit that he just wants to help but cant convey it bc what even are feelings 🤷

He'll tilt your chin towards him and just say "Look at me, Y/N. Stop overthinking it. You won't get hurt from this stupid thing, okay? If smth does happen, I'll just destroy the factory thats making this."

You dont know if hes joking to lighten the mood or if hes serious bc its aku

But hes prob joking

anyway hes gonna ask you like smth rly random like "What do you wanna eat later" which will confuse you but you'll answer nonetheless bc hey hes initiating a convo!!

as you start to talk and he notices you're relaxed enough for him, welp yk whats happening

Actually makes you wince a bit bc it just caught you off guard

"Ryuu, what the f-?!" "Just bear with it." ok we have been silenced 🛐

yall hear the click of relief, he counts in his mind to three and quickly pulls that shit out

you're slightly trembling from relief from finally getting it over you and bro just clicks his tounge like "You're such a fool. Cant believe something insignificant like that makes you nearly shit your pants."

you lowkey glare at him for that bc BRO needles r spooky 😭 but dw before you even open your mouth to tell him off, he'll look to the side and say "... You did good for holding that out though... but its still stupid."

just give him a peck on the cheek or smth bc this boy is prob craving some praise after having helped you like that

"Thank you, Ryuu. I couldnt have done this without you. You're the best boyfriend I could ever ask for"

Give him a tight hug, kiss and boom you got him around your finger

he'll take a second to wrap his arms around you and will just hide his face in the crook of ur neck like our other boy tsushi

"Of course, I'd help... I'll still blow up the factory for scaring you like that."

"NO!!" jk he wont if u tell him not to but hes just trying to say he doesnt like seeing u like that we know aku, dw 💕💕

if his coworkers ask why hes arriving a bit later at work, he'll just tell them to shut up and continue with their work

If you look closely you'll see his ears turn a bit pink as he keeps thinking of you and your words 💕💕😭

Nakahara Chuuya

Honestly its gonna be a mix of every reaction possible I think

Like if you tell him about the pen, hes first gonna feel a bit pressured like "O-Oh wait so you want ME to help with it??"

Like no offense hes obviously feeling pretty happy about that you are asking him for help especially for smth important as your health

But he knows hes not the most gentle person and does have his worries that he might accidentally hurt you or smth

wont ask anyone for advice bc its his love of his life can i be that pls that asked HIM so he'll do it at the end of the day!!

but if hes feeling rly unsure then he wont mind slipping a question about it when hes reporting to mori

which means being not subtle at all

"So was that all for today's report of the mission." "Yeah." "Then do you need something or why are you still standing there?" ".... *pulls out a picture of your pen* do you know how to use this?..."

you def know that chuuya's feeling so embarassed that hes asking his BOSS but its a sacrifice hes willing to pay

mori will have mercy on him and tell him what he should be careful of and summarise on how to use it

Will prob throw in a "good luck~" bc how can u not TEASE him

anyway our boy's done his research and now comes the hard part

"Okay, dont panic Y/N." "HOW CAN I NOT WHEN YOU'RE HOLDING IT LIKE YOU'RE GONNA KILL ME" "JUST DONT PANIC, FFS"

dw as soon as he sees you trembling, he'll be softer than a marshmallow

a chuuya one

"Oi, look at me. I'll make sure nothing's gonna happen to you, alright? Will just sting a bit and thats it. Will take care of you after this so you'll forget this ever happened."

HOW CAN U NOT SWOON AT HIM 😩😩

he'll even take off his gloves so you'll be more relaxed if you can feel his skin bro the gloves are giving off doctor vibes in this scenario, will make us panic more LOL

if you really cant keep your eyes off it then well....

"Damn it, love. Stop looking at it." will just press his lips onto you for a second before breaking it and inserting that shi*

"Ch-Chuuya!" "I know, i know. Dont worry, its gonna be over real soon."

And boom thr click is heard and yall are finally done

Honestly his shoulders are gonna relax instantly, boy was tensed up even more than you skskskks but who can blame him

"OMG chuuya we did it!!" "Yeah, you did it, doll." bro's gonna latch onto you again bc that kiss from earlier wasnt enough for the both of u 😩

is it riling yall up? Probably but welp you 're already either shirtless or pantless so only one clothing to pull off less work for yall

Mori's just gonna be like "I see, you managed to get through it" and chuuya just tiltd his fedora down so u cant see his face bc he REALLY wants to ignore that his boss knows whats been holding our boy up cant blame him 🤷🤷🤷

***************

Lol that was WAY too long but honestly this was so good to write 😩 now im just gonna be sad that none of them r here to do it irl but oh welp, will just read more stuff about them ✋💅

[fayecreates]

Out of Control

Premise: Vastaya! Fem Reader x Sevika (as per the people’s vote) heat. Yeah, thats about it. Also the readers a dog humanlike Vastaya.

A/N: there are not enough words in the dictionary to save my dignity, but thats okay, im cringe and free.

I refuse to have anyone beta read this, and i wrote this over the course of like a week. I dont proofread either so good luck.

Warnings: smut (obviously), humiliation, degradation, only frottage (if you can even call it that(i dont care)), puppygirl kink? (I hope y’all would get that from the premise) established relationship but its recent, uhhh yeah

Words: 2,218

Sevika was a nice girlfriend. She was protective, generous, and just overall nice even if she wasn’t open about it. What you two had was nice to say the least. Her giving acts of service to you with a grumble and her always upset resting face grew more and more endearing. It wasn’t like you needed her for everything, you were far from a helpless damsel needing a shining armor. Being a Vastaya in Zaun meant you had to help yourself because no one else would. You had grown up here, and made your way to a nice (nice for Zaun at least) paying job with a girlfriend who loved you dearly. What could be so bad about the life you pulled together?

Heat. Thats what would ruin it all.

The day of reckoning, as you’d call it, was similar to an actual dog’s heat. It was one of few things that distinguished you from a human. It only happened once a year, but because of the intense effects of it you questioned if you should rip out your uterus. The overwhelming arousal would consume every waking thought. You would barely sleep, eat, or do anything besides try to relive it. Leaving the house was dangerous, you were too susceptible to the ill intentions of creepy men.

Fortunately, you had the privilege of being able to just stay home for a week and tear stuff up from utter frustration. Unfortunately, you told your lovely girlfriend that you’d play cards with her at the Last Drop tonight. You felt horrible, not only just from the heat but also from the fact you had broken a promise. You felt a weighing feeling of guilt as you laid on your couch, sharp nails digging into the cushions. You had only worn a loose robe, just enough to cover yourself but not too much as to overheat.

You laid on that couch, hands covering your eyes as one leg escaped the fabric of your robe. You tried distracting yourself from all of the borderline disrespectful thought, but it was all for nothing. You thought of Sevika, her eyes and how they stared into your soul, her face, her lips, her arms, both flesh and metal, her chest, how muscular she was. Imagining how she’d kiss you, her tongue would brush against yours for what felt like hours, though it never went to any more. Your fluffy tail brushed against the fabric of the cushions, you wanted it all to be over. You thought of her fingers, how would they feel when they pressed against—

A loud knock came from the front door

Your ears perk up at the noise, it was only a few feet away from your head, impossible to ignore. You quickly sat up, a mixture of sweat and… other liquids dripped down your inner thigh. You attempted to compose yourself to the best of your ability, maybe if your acting was good enough you could act like you werent home, depending on who it was. With light footsteps towards the door, you looked out the peephole, seeing the tall woman you broke a promise with. Ideas raced through your head, how could you avoid her for up to 10 days? Act sick? Pretend you went on a trip? As your thoughts continued, another loud knock cause you to jump a small bit.

“Open up, i know you’re there.” Sevika’s voice boomed, she sounded mostly pissed but it was hinted with a softer tone that was reserved for you. Now torn again, you thought about more options. I mean how bad would it be if you did open up?

Hesitantly, you unlocked the door, opening it only a smidge. “…hi..” is all you managed to mumble out as you peaked through the crack. She glared down at you, honestly it just made your condition worse. You could see her, not just in your crude dreams now, all 100% of her. You could smell her, a mix of whiskey, burnt wood, and the faintest smell of sweat filled your nose. It was utterly intoxicating. “You really think you can just leave me for shits and giggles? If you didnt want to show up, say it.” She says with a look of disapproval, and as hard it is to admit, it sent a shock through your body. You thought a range of thoughts, ones that were born of pure degeneracy, to simply how you should respond. “Well?” She says, putting her hand on the side of the door, pushing it open a bit.

A moment passed as you attempted to compose yourself more. You decided to just come clean… mostly…

“Uh… i-i didnt mean to leave you… i have a little problem, and i couldnt talk until now…” you mutter, your ears pressed flat against your head showing your guilt. However, your fluffy wagging tail contrasted that. She pressed the door open just a bit further, the low warm lighting from your home illuminating her. You couldn’t help but stare, your eyes drifted towards her muscular arm. You always loved that part of her, thinking of all the things she could do just with one arm. “And that ‘little problem’ is…?” Sevika says with an almost disrespectful look down at you, she fully assumed you were just lying. “Uh… heat…” you mumbled reluctantly. It was deathly embarrassing, you wouldn’t ever be caught dead admitting that to anyone, let alone your girlfriend. Being a desperate little whore was far from easy to say. “You better come up with a better excuse than that.” She says with a sharp laugh, although you just looked up at her nervous and almost a bit scared. “Are you serious? You’re too hot to even tell me a simple sentence?” You vigorously shake your head. It was simple misunderstanding, but it would be twice as humiliating to explain that. “…like Vastaya heat,.. not temperature…” you mutter, your voice just a bit louder than the previous muttering. She looked down at you, her expression shifting slightly to be less upset, you could’ve sworn she even smirked a bit. Her hand pushed the door open even more, your eyes trailed down her body once more. Looking at her broad shoulder, her chest, her thigh, all of her was so perfect in your eyes.

“You could’ve just started with that. Now, let me in already, it’s cold out.” Sevika says, her tone more calm. You quickly stepped away from the door, allowing her to waltz right in. She towered over you, not just physically but also just in your demeanor. Your hands gripped at the hems of your robe, as an attempt to control yourself better. She looked around the living room, it wasn’t the first time she’d been in your house but you’d at least tidy up before she came there. Your old clothes were thrown around, various parts from your hobbies were barely started or just opened from when you tried to distract yourself, and the couch… the couch you recently just laid on as you had various carnal imagery flash through your head. Your slick dripped onto the cushions, just ruining them. You were embarrassed, you tried being proper and put together for Sevika. You tried to be good for her.

“So this is where you’d rather be.” She teased, her eyes lingering for a bit too long at the couch before they locked back on with yours. You didn’t know how to continue this, you didnt even know what she wanted from this encounter. You thought, just for a minute, that you could… maybe… ask her for a little help with your heat. It wouldn’t quench it, but it would relieve you for at least a few hours. Well that depending more on what you both did. “Um… Sevika, can i ask you a favor…?” You say quietly, looking up at her with a shy look. Your heart raced, you shifted your weight onto one of your legs. She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “Can… uh… we have sex… or something…?” You ask, awkward as hell. It’s not like you’ve ever asked anyone else for sex, especially not when you are mid heat. Her eyes widen just slightly as she stared down as you.

“Say please.” Is all she said, furthering your embarrassment.

“…please…” you mumble, she was getting a kick out of just making your more and more embarrassed for something she saw as an everyday (or so) thing. Her smirk grew as she looked down at you. “Good girl.” She says, her voice low, almost a growl. She ruffled your hair just a bit. Your face flushed a deeper shade at the praise, it was all you ever wanted. Her hand fell down the top of your head to your cheek, tilting your head up as she looked down in your eyes. Those grey eyes stood out so beautifully from her deep dark circles beneath her eyes, burning into your soul. She leaning down just a bit, kissing you softly. Your ears perk up excitedly at the soft touch. Her fingers grip the base of your ear, pulling you towards the couch. She let go, sitting down with you in front of her, and you just followed like lost puppy. You move to sit beside her, a gentle yet firm hand on your hip stopping you. “Hold on.” She says, every second without any sort of stimulation felt like hell but you’d follow any order for a chance at it. “Kneel.” She says, her voice so loud in your ears from the utter silence you previously laid in for hours. You sat on your knees in between her spread legs, as she smiled down at you, a hand briefly cradling your cheek once more. Squeezing your thighs together, you waited as patiently as your body allowed. “Now, be a good girl and take that off for me.” She says using her boot to signal to your robe, not even lifting a finger. Your fingers fumbled but after a moment you slide off the robe, barely ashamed of your state at this point. Cold air hit your bare skin but all you did was lean forward more. “Since when have you been so obedient?” She asked rhetorically, either way you would’ve stared up at her a little dumbfounded and excited. She took her hand and gently held your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. It felt so gentle and sweet but underlying was just pure condescension.

“Puppy, tell me, what do you wanna do?” Sevika asked, her dark grey eyes felt like they could burn through you. The pet name alone made you throb just a bit harder, you couldn’t admit that though. Words felt like they were stuck in your throat, your hands rested on the cushion, just between her spread legs. “Can… i wanna cum,.. please…?” You beg, rolling your hips on nothing besides the air around you. Her hand migrated from your cheek to your chin, holding it firmly upwards.

“Then go on and fuck my leg if you’re so desperate.” She says, giving a firm pat the top of your head before leaning back on the couch. You looked up, mostly in disbelief. How could she be so cruel? But, in the same vein, you were desperate as she said. You hesitated, her judging eyes saw every small movement. She ever so slightly raised her eyebrows and nodded her head, as to signal to do something. You, reluctantly, sat so her leg was just inbetween yours. She moved her leg forward, pressing so her calf was flush with your core. It was like electric was sent through your body. The small touch made you whimper. You, after a second, put your hands around her leg, she had still kept her clothes on but that wouldn’t prevent your horniess. Slowly pushing your hips up and rolling them back down, you bit your lip as to not be too loud. Her gaze lingered on you, she seemed a little disinterested almost, not lifting a finger for you. Your fingers gripped her thigh, like she would leave if it were any lighter, your rutting was sloppy and born of just lust. You looked downwards as an attempt to avoid the shame, you could feel her eyes burning through your skull either way. Moans fell from your lips like it were as simple as breathing. It felt bad, physically it was amazing. Her hand reached up to your ears, gently scratching behind them. Feeling her touch only amplified everything. The pure arousal, her scent, her touch, the small hums that escaped her lips. It was euphoric. With each little thrust of your hips, you grew closer and closer, panting heavier and heavier.

“I-i… im gonna— im close…” you manage to sputter out despite your head being clouded by lust. “I know, puppy.” She says, still rubbing your head. With only a few more sloppy rolls of your hips, the tension you held washed away. Riding out your orgasm with rough, loud moans and pants. After a small minute, in which you had mostly just attempted to catch your breath, the same arousal flashed over you once more.

“…’Vika… i-i want more…” you said between heavy breaths.

[samsalami66]

Here we go again with a fun little drabble, this time for a spontaneous Knight!Hob and Prince!Dream au (which will probably get a few more additions lmao). It all started with my lovely @im-not-corrupted handing me the prompt "you know, it's ok if you're not ok" from this wonderful prompt list.

----

Dream ran down a corridor, his coat billowing behind him like an angry cloud of black smoke, set to destroy everything that would dare to stand between him and this God-forsaken door deep within the bowels of the castle. 

Dream ran, and it was the first time Dream remembered running since his childhood years, when he had been a naught but a babe, excited to explore every nook and corner of the massive palace that he called his home. Of course the first time he was forced to engage in such physical activity in as many years, it would be Hob Gadling's fault. Because it was always Hob Gadling's fault, from the moment he stepped foot into the throne room and announced he would become Dream's personal guardian, a Knight in his name alone, loyal to none other than the Prince of the Dreaming. 

What is he at fault for? a curious reader might ask, and Dream would whirl around on his heel and give a whole list of things Sir Robert Gadling could be blamed for, if only indirectly. 

For the blush he forced onto Dream's pale cheeks anytime their gazes met over a particularly boring dinner with his family. Perhaps also for the way Dream's heart skipped a beat whenever Hob spoke up to the King and Queen on his behalf, a feat so terrible even the most noble of men had failed before him. Good thing Hob was no nobleman, no son of high houses nor of new money. 

He was an idiot, first and foremost. A talented, quick witted and patient idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. After all, who just waltzes into a room with the King and Queen in it and promises undying loyalty to their adolescent son who no one particularly likes and expects it to simply work? And who decides to simply enter a jousting match without any former training or experience for fun?

Hob Gadling, of course, which was just one more example of things he could be blamed for. 

Nil consideration for his own physical well-being. 

Idiot. 

Dream was about to say as much as he threw open the door to Hob's chambers, but every ill thought spent towards his Knight's stupidity was immediately dropped as Dream found him hunched over the back of his armchair, one hand clutching at his bare chest as it rose and fell in quick succession. 

God's wounds, Dream had seen how Hob got shoved out of his saddle, how the lance had connected with his armor plate and sent him flying from his horse in one spectacular arch. But he never could have guessed just how bad it must have hurt, even through the steel and cloth. The bruise on Hob's chest was an angry black, his sides spotted with a deep red where his ribs were most definitely fractured. 

"Hob," the name left Dream's lips like a plea, like God's name would fall from a sinner's lips who prayed for salvation. And he did pray for salvation, in a way. Not his own, but salvation from endless pain nonetheless.

The man in question looked up between sweaty brows, a pained grimace painting his usual smile an ugly gray. Dream found himself by his side faster than lightning, hands coming up to hover helplessly over Hob's chest. 

Hob sighed at the concern clearly plastered into every corner of Dream's face, the way his lips tugged downwards in an obvious display of his dislike for the position he found Hob in. 

"Don't you worry for me, my Lord. I'm… fine. I'm fine, I promise." 

Tragically, the trustworthiness of this statement was negated by a heavy cough wrecking Hob's body, which left him groaning in pain over his injuries. 

"You are not fine, Robert Gadling," Dream hissed in response, hands finally coming to a rest on Hob's back. "Which is. Alright. It is alright if you are not alright. Just, please, lay down, my friend. You must rest."

Thankfully, Hob did not fight Dream as he was pushed towards his bedroom, and neither did he when Dream gently pressed him down into the mattress with a careful hand to his shoulder. His breath was still heavy and his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at Dream, something vulnerable hidden behind the dark brown of his eyes that Dream could not quite decipher in the near darkness of the bedroom. 

"Will you stay? My Lord?" Hob whispered, apparently balancing carefully between the realm of sleep and the world of the waking. 

"No duty could possibly force me from your side, my half-witted Knight." Dream responded quietly, his heart warming considerably at the soft smile that crept into his friend's eyes at the endearment, before they eventually fell close and Hob got pulled into deep and restful slumber. 

Dream placed a single feather-light kiss to the dark spot on Hob's chest before settling into the other side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the slowing rise and fall of Hob's breast. 

Hob Gadling really was an idiot.

Dream's idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

[vacate-et-scire]

Good day! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ I was scrolling through tumblr and apparently, I've read some of your works. I love love love it like fr 🥹‼️ I want to participate in this match up event of yours. It's my first time joining this kind of stuff— apologies if I ever made a mistake abt my details ㅠㅡㅠ, thanks!! (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)♡

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

zodiac stuff: (idk how this works)

gemini sun, cap moon, leo rising, taurus venus

mbti: infj or isfj (idk bro i keep getting both)

physical appearance: 5'5 - 5'6, medium length hair (butterfly cut), heart face shape, almond eyes, usually appears cold because of rbf, old money style (in clothes)

how i function: i tend to be passionate about things i love, compete with everyone because i hate to lose, tend to be lazy sometimes, is kind of dense, clingy + loud af (if ur close to me), despises dirty environment, can be very direct and straightforward, zones out randomly, brainrot x dry humor, sensitive interms of words, attachment issues, short tempered, could get jealous easily but won't show it because im sigma fr, kinda delusional (it just happens in the middle of 3 AM), loves to take the lead, independent and values freedom

things i like: DEBATES!!, roasting people, ARTS!!, psychology, my son (my 3 year old koala plush), reading, MUSIC!! (usually Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood and Lana Del Rey), F1‼️‼️‼️

things i hate: men (not every man but most of them), noisy or messy af surroundings, womanizers, over dramatic people, disturbance as i work into something, not following the rules or being late

love language: GIFT GIVING/RECEIVING!!, acts of service, QUALITY TIME!!

my type: someone who will stay through the good and bad times, someone that assures me, someone who will make me feel heard, someone who knows me deeply that they can sense what i need, how i feel, or what i want without even talking, someone devoted and loyal, someone with goals and strives to achieve them, someone hardworking and passionate about what they do, not afraid to cry infront of me, erm.. princess treatment— *gunshots*, someone not afraid to correct me when I do something wrong, can handle attitude, can do some household chores atleast, knows boundaries, shows affection in private cuz i hate pda, PROVIDER!!

(sorry, i know this is too long ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ but thank you!! (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠) )

Your Blue Lock Matchup: Sae Itoshi

I know, I know, he’s got that aloof, “I don’t care” attitude most of the time, but trust me, once he’s invested in someone, he goes all in. And honestly? With your fiery, passionate energy, I think you’d be the one to break down those walls of his and make him actually care in a way no one else could.

Sae would admire your drive and competitive streak—he’s the same way. You hate losing? So does he. You both thrive on pushing yourselves to be the best. He’d totally respect your leadership qualities, and honestly? He’d quietly love seeing you take charge, though he’d never admit it out loud.

He’s not great with words (ehem obviously), but he’d make sure you feel how much he cares. You want someone who stays through thick and thin? That’s him. He’s a man of actions—whether it’s doing something thoughtful when he knows you’ve had a bad day, or subtly reassuring you with small gestures (like holding your hand under the table or brushing your hair out of your face when no one’s looking). He’s all about private, meaningful moments, which works perfectly since you’re not into PDA.

When it comes to your independence I think I understand how you feel which is the main reason I chose Sae, he's perfectly stable financially, but he would not want you to be a 'housewife' partner completely dependent on his income. He also really value's freedom of his own, so it would be easy for him to understand you wanting freedom as well, to do what makes you happy.

As for the princess treatment? Sae might not go full-on knight in shining armor, but he’s got his own way of spoiling you. I believe he would drive you places when he has time, and would buy you gifts when he goes abroad to play.

He is clean, indefinitely, he's never been good at chores himself, but he cleaned up after his brother pretty often so he knows the basics and likes when his space is well-kept.

[simplyjake]

i have a request!!! playing minecraft with streamer!Hee 😭😭 i think i’d be really cute, can be hcs if you want!!

a/n: anon... streamer!hee is my whole personality i personally believe he would be a streamer if he wasnt an idol but thats for another day. i hope this satisfies ur request!!

warnings: none that i know of

gn!reader

Minecraft with boyfie streamer!hee

His twitch and/or youtube has like 5 million subscribers or something idk

People love hot men who game! (me core)

Kinda irrelevant but i think heeseung would be one of the korean members in the quackity smp server idk idk idk

Hees fans know abt u

But you never really show yourself because you dont rlly feel the need to yk

But heeseungs comments keep begging him to play games with you

So he goes to call you (on stream may i add)

“Baby!!!” so cute stfu

“Yeah hun whats up” ur phone connected by your ear and shoulder (do yk what i mean im bad at explaining) bc ur buying groceries for the house😭😭😭

“Chat is asking for you to play a game with me on stream”

“As long as we play minecraft im so down”

“Thank you lovie! Ill see u when u get home MWAH”

So then you guys plan for his next stream

BOOM now ur here

Ur cute lil set up right next to his i cant do this

He helps you set up ur facecam n everything so that chat can see and hear u

Now for the actual game

The mc world name is yabadabadoo 

I think heeseung is a calm mc player not one who grinds and does allat yk

Stream starts nd hes like

“Baby lets play a game, anytime something scary happens we kiss”

“Kiss… during the scary parts??? Of minecraft???”

Cue chat calling heeseung a loser im sorry

You guys start off in ur survival world and immediately his hunter gatherer instincts kick in

He’d getting meat, house materials, wool 

“Hee, put ur minecraft bed next to mine”

And he gasps 

“Yn thats so scandalous..”

At first the house is just a dirt hut

But everytime you guys stream mc tgt the house gets more elaborate

From ur lil dirt hut to like a mansion

You guys have a barn that you built

You even learned how to make an aquarium in mc go you!!!

When heeseung mines and he finds diamonds, he gives a majority of them to you

Like let's say he found 7, he gives u 4 and he keeps 3 yk

Love a man who can provide for his lover

Even w this big mansion home

He makes SURE ur beds r still tgt

You get lost a lot when you wander and dilly dally so he has to come find you 😭

Your knight in shining diamond armor

You guys have a cat and a dog

Cat is named kombucha (heeseungs idea)

Dog is named hershey (ur idea) 

It was supposed to be a one time thing but you liked it and heeseungs fans love you so minecraft streams are a twice a month typa thing

Now its something you, him, and the fans look forward in doing 

[lokissweater]

HONEY ILL ALWAYS COME BACK FROM WAR JS FOR YOUUUU 🫵😣💕 like im tryna show off in war to come home to my wife duh like that’s my sole purpose 😻😻😻

(LET ME PREFACEEEEE THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ASK BC IM RESPONDING TO UR RESPONSE TEWWW AND GIVING MY THOTS ON ANNI GUMIIIIIII)

KENTO TAKING CARE OF READER WHILE SHES EXHAUSTED IS SO CUTEEEE (but not exhausted for that knight in shining armor’s sword tho iykyk 😜😜😜) he can spank us all he wants bc he’s a GOOD MAN 😋😋😋

THANK YOU FOR SEEING THE VISION ON EX SUKUNA POOKIE?!?!?! LIKE bro had us and decided to fck around and find out and now we exes, and now he want us back bc he’s down bad and YEARNINNNNGGGGGGG 😣😣😣 either it was emotional constipation (I can totes see this) or some external factor that tore them apart 🙁💔 but like it’s his fault in the end, I’m not taking other answers. Mans needs to GROVEL!!!! 😻😻😻 and band!gojo, he’s so charming… #romanempirefr and THANK YOU FOR THE STRONG READER AGENDA BC GIRLIE NEEDS A BACKBONE TO PUT THAT BITCH INTO PLACE 🫵😋

I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, IKKKKKKK you’ll COOK on new au gumi dhekjdowmeke alr drooling thinking abt it 🤤🤤🤤 imagine there’s a caseoh cameo in one of ur fics, I’d cackle tbh (GAMER AU WITH A CHARACTER AND THEY COLLAB W THE CUTESY GINGER HUNK?!?!?! 🫵😻) DONT GET ME STARTED ON MY APPRECIATION TO THE UNIVERSE TO LET ME EXIST AT THE SAME TIME AS YOU TO READ YOUR FICS GIRLLLL 😣😣😣😣😣💕💕💕💕💕💕 I exist solely to read ur fics, period. 😋💕

———————

I STARTED SOBBING WHEN I READ ANNI MLB!GUMI BC IT HEALED SMT WITHIN ME…

tldr, I acc have an ex from hs, lasted around 3 years and 4 months so very close to the fic, I had to do a fcking double take girl 😨😨😨 I had a similar experience too abt the money thing, bro was kinda well off but only bought/paid for things that also benefitted him (ie dinner or buying me in game cosmetics for a game I don’t play much, js to force me online despite me not liking that game anymore) 😕😕😕

ANYWAYS, GUMI WOULD NEVERRRR LIKE MANS KNEW WHAT TF TO BUY FOR READER???? WITHHOUT EXPECTING MUCH BACK??? I STARTED BAWLING NICKIIIII 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 their relationship is so insanely healthy and sweet and cute and gosh. I can imagine that he has notes on what she likes and writes in them over the span of their relationship 🥹🥹🥹 and the friendship between the 4 idiots is always so fun to read, the dynamic is SOOOOOO CHEFS KISS 😣🎀 I fear bff would even ask her own man Yuji to judge reader’s outfit so she can get ready for her steamy sesh w gumi 😜😜 (but ofc hedgehog over here would go feral 😹😹)

I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL REST OF UR WEEK MY LOVEEEE 🫵😣💕💕💕 I need to catch back up on sleep bc I’ve been studying for finals :(

- 🎀

BAHAHAHAHAHAH NO LITERALLY reader was a little whore for kento and was too tired to walk and be responsible, but she up and running and alert for that poised respectable cawk!!! 😝😝 AND AS SHE MF SHOULD !!! 🫦🫦 i am no better…. SOMEONE COME SPANK ME 😻😻

NOOOO BECAUSE MY BABY BLUE BOWS you don’t understand how genius you are for that concept of sir kuna and exes to lovers i actually started fucking vibrating and going crazy THINKING of the desperation he’s under for reader and so much REGREEEETTTTTT and trying to hard to get her back that it’s eating him absolutely ALIVE !!! his dignity is out the window and he’s smothering and DEMANDING reader to please just listen to him and give him a chance 🫦🫦🫦 I LOVE A BEGGING FUCKING MAN OK ARREST MEEEEE !!! ARREST MEEEEE I LOVE IT WHEN MEN CRY 😻🫶🫶🫶 meow meow

so i WILL be writing this i promise yew my love congratulations you just got sukuna on a foreseeable rotation 🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶 MWAAHHHH I LOVE YOUR BRAIN ❤️❤️❤️❤️ AND BIIITCHHH IM CRYING A MF CASEOH CAMEO IN THE FICS IS SOOO FUNNNYYYYY I HAVE TO DO IT !!!!

AND OMFFFGGGGG GIRLLLLLL YOU AND I ARE SIMILAR AAAAFFFFFFF !!! i cannot believe my precious little baby bows went through that shit ESPECIALLY when that mf was well off ??? HELLO ???? WHERE THE FLOWERS THAT YOU DESERVE AT AND THE JUST BECAUSE GIFTS ???? NOT giving you shit that’s beneficial to him oh my god are you fucking kidding me rn … let’s not be lame please dear god.

let’s just say i was writing those scenarios based off of personal experience … BUT I DIGRESS !!! i hope you’re happier now my baby and just KNOWWWW … that i could treat you better 🫦🫦 AYO WHAT??? 😝😝😝 LMFAO WTF idk who just said that rn that was so weird !😻

AND I KNOOOOWWWWWWW GUMI IS SO FUCKING HEALING FOR ME BRO that man just KNOWS. watches readers every move and makes sure that she’s happy with him and makes CONSTANT mental notes in his head every time he hears even a GUSP from reader 🥹🫶🫶 new mary jane pumps just dropped ???? and yes she has five other pairs (from him already) but it’s a different color she doesn’t have ??? and did she just slightly gasp but then hide it bc omg she already has so many pairs she needs to stop ???

gumi just nods to himself. 😻 gumi makes a note of it and tucks it away for later. 😻 gumi goes to buy said shoes the next week. 😻

AND YEEESSSSS I LOVE THE FOUR OF THEM SOOOO FUCKING MUCH WRITING THEM IS ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAAAVVVV THINGS TO DOOOOO !!!! they’re so stupid and i love the fights 😻😻🫶🫶 AND THE WAY yuji would be so focused too in trying to pick a good outfit for steamy sesh and reader is MORTIFIED about it and they both genuinely do not see what the issue is 😭😭😭😭 parents af 😻🫶

I LOOOVEEEE YOUUU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU MY BABY BLUE BOWS THANK YOU SOOOOO MUUUCHHHH FOR COMING TO VISIT ME AND MAKING ME LAUGH AND MAKING ME NOT GO FAWKIN CRAZY BC OF MY STUDIESS !!!! 😝😝😝 PLEASE have the GREATEST rest of your week my love you DESERVE IT !!!! please take care and stay safe and look both ways before you cross the street !!! :33 <3333

AND YES CATCH UP ON THAT BEAUTY REST PLEASE !!!! I NEED TO HEAR YOU HONK SHOOING !!!!!! 😻😻😻

MWAH MWAH TILL WE MEET AGAIN !!! <333

[paulinawoodpecker]

Ramirez and Sara cheered him up about Tiffany Mordon hurting his feelings

@jakkiisthatboy2

Tiffany: do you want to play this game?!

Tiffany: *laughs*

Tiffany: Fine! I’ll let you play this game!

Tiffany: operation! Torture the man’s heart!

The mean queen bees: *gasps*

Jeremy: what?!

Roger: oh no…

Kenny: not the foot…

Tiffany: let’s do this!

Tad: *gulps*

Tiffany: you have been making women a distraction and feel bad about themselves since you came in to this world. I think you have that all wrong mr. You’re wrong around you representing everything wrong with your discoveries and your lame stuff.

Tad: lame?

Tiffany: what unrealistic ideas you have. You are describing stereotypical useless people.

Tad: 😧 I mean 😏 I am good looking…

Tiffany: LOOK AT YOURSELF!

Tad: 😧 …

Tiffany: you set a masculine movement back to your years. You destroyed men and women’s lives and rights on listening to their hopes and dreams but instead you wanted it all to yourself. With innate sense of worth. You are killing their chance to live in their hopes and dreams. You are killing the planet with your glorification of rampant.

Tad: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Tiffany: am I the only one with consumerism? No! Because you know what you are? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. I’m supposed to make you happy and proud of you for yourself. Well get this. I’m wrong. And I’m powerful. Heck yeah I’m powerful!

Tiffany: and you have declared yourself mr. wrongly nothing. If it weren’t for you, I would not been doing this on my own. And another thing. Stop getting in our way you FAT FACIST!

The mean queen bees: *gasps at her*

Kenny, Kevin, Jeremy, Christopher, and Roger: Oooh!

Christopher: dang! She got her good!

Kevin: never trust a girl with blonde hair!

Tiffany: 😈😏

Tiffany: well? You give up? Or are you sure you can handle more?

Tad: 😢 okay. Fine. If that’s what you want to call me. It was nice talking to you. Come on Sara.

Tad: *speed walks while Sara catches up*

Tiffany: oh yeah. and tad?

Tiffany: *gives him the naughty finger which is censored by the Lightbox animation studios logo*

The mean queen bees laugh villainy and evilly and walks away

Tad: 😭😭😭😭

Sara: hey. It’s okay.

Ramirez: *heard crying that was coming from tad*

Ramirez: what happened?

Sara: he got into a bet a girl.

Ramirez: a girl?

Sara: her name was Tiffany mordon.

Tad: *sniffs* she was so mean. Where did she get that FAT Fascist? *continues crying*

Ramirez and Sara give him a hug to cheer him up

Tad: *stops crying but still sheds tears*

Sara: I’m very sorry you had to go through that.

Tad: *sniffs* I’m fine. Sara. I’m fine.

Ramirez: Well. Maybe Sara and I can figure out how to make you feel better.

Tad: really?

Sara: yeah. Someday. You need to stand up to her.

Tad: 🥺 but I’m scared. I’m just scared she might do that torture my heart thing again.

Ramirez: I know. It’s okay to be scared at first.

Sara: yeah. Sometimes at the first day you meet bullies, they make you cry. But on a future day, you finally start raising your voice and start standing up to them.

Tad: okay.

Ramirez: don’t cry tad.

Tad: I’ll try.

Ramirez and Sara give him a hug to cheer him up

Tad: *manages to calm down*

Tad: thanks you two.

Ramirez: all good?

Tad: yeah. All good.

Sara: since you know how to face your fears yet. We’ll also teach you how to protect us.

Tad: me? But I’m no knight. I don’t have an armor with me.

Ramirez: but you still need to learn.

Tad: alright.

Sara: you need to use your fighting skills like this. *showed him her fighting skills* now you try.

Tad: right. About that. I just had medicine, so im still digesting it. I’ll just wait.

Ramirez: just do it.

Tad: shouldn’t I warm up first?

Ramirez: just do it.

Tad: maybe I should warm up. *in anime chibi mode starts warming up saying cute shooting sounds adorably and repeatedly *

Ramirez: WILL YOU JUST DO IT!!!

Tad: *in anime chibi style; froze like a statue* ok fine I’ll do it.

Tad: *uses his skills weak*

Ramirez: try again but more harder.

Tad: *uses his skills harder* 😏 how’s that?

Sara and Ramirez: 😓😓

[aly-s0ares]

its come to my attention now that im less public about having meltdowns and begging for *one specific persons* attention because i thought i *deserved better* than to be treated like a joke or a toy someone could just throw around whenever they want, that im getting less attention from men.

like yall can’t try and play the knight in shining armor to try and get into someones pants so you just don’t even try and honestly that’s pathetic. you shouldn’t have to try and love bomb someone vulnerable into liking you.

i feel complete and utter disgust that these men think i’d be down to hook up especially in a bad time. i’m not easy, and i don’t play games.

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ A Golden Chain ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x aunt/targ!fem!reader [part three of a golden cage series.] words: 16.1k. im so sorry synopsis: "Jacaerys is hurt; angry, upset, scared - but he is insulting. And irrational men make the gravest errors." notes: hi<3 i cannot lie i am stressed over the quality of this chap bc of the pressure but fuck it we ball ig. anyways, the kids are fighting again <3 but reader (and author) likes to put jace in his place. & i am also dying on the hill that JACE HAS A MEAN STREAK. HE TRIES NOT TO, BUT HE DOES. he needs therapy so bad it makes him look stupid warnings: character death. canon-typical violence/blood/injury, poorly written medieval politics, angst, possessive/jealous jace, daemon as his own warning, fear of commitment, mommy issues and religious trauma galore, brief dubcon(?), light smut, brief PiV, arguing (after all they are half-enemies and half-lovers), High Valyrian as foreplay tbh thank u to @softspiderling and @dipperscavern who both put up with my neurotics xoxo feedback is appreciated <3 requests open. previous. series masterlist. masterlist.

YOUR HEART BEATS ERRATICALLY WITHIN YOUR THROAT. 

The halls echo with the quick pace of dread - melting away a heated daze of pleasure, giving way to an inexorable pair of hands, chilling to your bones; fate, at your doorstep. 

Fate, which lies on a ship down at the harbor, flying the flag of your kin. 

Flickering torches cast fleeting shadows on the stone walls; You do not dare glance to your side, though you know Jacaerys strides as swiftly as you, the corners of your vision in darkness, a deep unsettle within your stomach. 

A single ship, bearing a green, three-headed dragon.

With shaky fingers, your hair is tamed into a hastily drawn braid, far from the elegance worthy of court - yet in this hour of ghosts, it must suffice.

A heavy foreboding hang; the only sounds are the soft echoes of his sheath brushing against Jacaerys’ belt and the rhythmic clink of Ser Marbrand’s armor.

The dress you’ve taken upon your tired frame is one previously worn just a day ago; a gray and red material, it was the closest on hand - you’d thrown it over your sleepgown with shaking fingers. Jacaerys, eyes sharp and dutiful, had laced up your corset for you in the silence just as Ser Marbrand returned with appropriate clothing for the Prince. 

You do not dare breathe; two weeks ago, you’d found yourself embossed with that same gilded pressure that returns with the ship that has come to dock at the island’s bay. It has been just hours since you sent a letter by raven to your grandsire, proclaiming your alliance to Rhaenyra, though it is undeniable. 

There could be no other reason for the ship's visit than for you.

The council chamber doors are oak, large; Ser Marbrand makes to open them, and the moment his back has turned, a hand grasps yours. Fleeting, but there. 

Eyes flicker to each other for a moment and you are unsettled to find his own gaze, a mirror of your own: Anticipation, fear - determination. A recognition, something deeper - something that courses fiery through your veins alike. Two sides of the same mad coin. 

The hand around yours relieves a gentle squeeze before dropping away; a fleeting affection, one that just subtly calms the racing gallop of your heart within its ribbed cage as you squeeze his back. 

If it weren’t for the apprehension in the air, you might marvel in this transient moment; Jacaerys has a strikingly beautiful profile from your angle aside him. Hair haloed from the flickering torches, eyes warmed with determination, cheeks a rosy red that’d remained from the moment you’d had him within your sheets just thirty minutes past. 

It is the moment you brush the curls - likely gone astray with the sins of the evening and your tireless fingers - from Jace’s forehead, that the doors begin to open, and you jump away from each other like startled hares. 

You are otherwise relieved to have Ser Marbrand upon your other side; had it been just you and Jacaerys, your appearance would likely have struck as less than confident, the observing eyes of those in front of you certainly more piercing. 

A trickle of anxiety - the Prince’s attire of the same regalia from the day before, matching your own and acquired in haste, might raise heads. But the gods are merciful this night; there are far more pressing matters than the prince's whereabouts before these late summons. Each of the council members in front of you have clearly also hastily dressed, their garments and expressions reflecting such abruptness of awakening.

Rhaenyra, seated at the head of the table, straightens when she lays her eyes on you and her firstborn - such familiar weariness and determination in her expression. It strikes you, among the flickering scarcity of light, that she and her son share the same sloped nose, the same cheekbones. The moon shines faintly through the slats of stone on the right of the chamber; illuminating silky hair, the upturn of her chin - a mirror of her son as she nods in greeting.

Regality in its finest, purest form. 

Jacaerys remains beside you, and as you approach the table of lords and ladies, you barely see a flicker of his hand - twitching as if to reach for you before reminding himself of his place. “Apologies for the late summons,” Queen Rhaenyra sighs; you have scarcely nodded at the Queen and others before the door opens once more. 

It is a castle page, who, despite the exasperated, impatient silence from the council, still takes his grace to bow deeply. The velvet black doublet he wears folds awkwardly with the motion; Daemon’s exasperated eyes meet your own briefly in a bout of chagrin.

The absence of a greeting in return spurs the page’s words into action. 

"Your Grace, the ship held a sailor, swornsword, and a messenger - a page, from King's Landing, requesting an audience."

The tension in the room tightens further; you let out a short, bewildered breath. 

All of this, for… A page? You’d half expected your grandsire himself upon the floorboards of the ship, arm already raised to strike you in fury. Rhaenyra's gaze hardens, echoing your exact thoughts. "A page, in the middle of the night?" 

Weary eyes meet the council before him. "Yes, Your Grace. He comes with a message from the Hand of the King."

Right. 

Eyes land on you, though you are quite past the point of listening to the furthered words; a page? Was this all for show, then? To rattle your court, to send threats by way of ship, when your family could not be bothered to show to you themselves? 

Bitterness, a caustic sting, festers in your chest. 

You know better than to think them foolish enough to dare come near the island; it would surely mean death - but the degradation of a mere page to come collect you and return you? Some little lamb, wobble-legged and bleating? 

A rage simmers within your blood. 

The man is dismissed with a curt nod from the Queen - your eyes rove over the cups of mulled wine and muddled sourleaf tea, served in this unholy hour to encourage tired eyes awake and alert. As if coaxing you to trace, the mugs release tendrils of steam; you watch absently as your own half-drunk mug sits, mocking you from below. 

A conversation of murmurs in the wake of the page’s words, yourself stuck in the currents of shock and apprehension. You tune in - eyeing Jacaerys, who stares back at you with an expression of concern. 

A small nod to him - one returned equally subtly, yet with a soft emotion. Something alarming curls in your stomach under his quiet attention, and you look away. 

“-Well then, where is the dragon?” Lord Celtigar’s voice cuts through the chamber. “If they put the effort to come to Dragonstone, despite the blockades along the gullet, one would expect them to come with a show of strength.”

Rhaenys, from beside the Queen: “They would not be foolish enough to send a dragon here.”

The words linger, a dark cloud; a war of dragons would spell certain doom for nearly half the realm. Even your grandsire - for all his stubbornness - your brother, and your mother, would not desire such a fate. At least, you hope not.

The very doubt sends a shiver down your spine.

But would they truly take the time to sail a ship for your sake alone? The anxiety, disbelief within you unwelcome companions - the absence of a dragon harbrings a small relief yet a deeper sense of unease.

Daemon, always quick to voice his opinions, leans forward, hands splaying over the glowing painted table. “If they intended to pose a serious threat, they wouldn’t bother with an audience,” He reasons, “-rather, they’d break into her quarters and get the job done quick.” 

Eyes land on you. 

Heat under such scrutiny, but yet a cold, gripping fear at the prospect; indeed, if they wanted you dead, you’re sure they could find a way to have it done without ceremony - and yes, without witnesses. 

True as it is, the audacity of Daemon’s statement strikes a chord - a sharp breeze through the room, the hearth does little to dispell the chill in the air. 

A shiver down your spine, unwillingly reproducing what sight could have befallen the assassin sent to eliminate you: Expecting a maiden asleep and abed, not a maiden writhing with pleasure, her thighs propped precariously over the sturdy shoulders of the Prince of Dragonstone. 

You send your flushed gaze down to the stone table before you, the remnants of your previous dalliance still slick between the apex of your thighs. 

It is not hard to notice as Jacaerys shoots Daemon a hot glare, jaw clenching, hands resting upon his sword’s hilt. “This is no time for brash statements,” Jacaerys enunciates sharply, “If the greens are sending a message, it is because they wish to negotiate, or make demands.” 

Daemon’s eyes narrow; a silent challenge passing between them that sets your hair on end - you see it, for a moment, in your uncle’s gaze. Deciphering, analyzing, as if searching through scrolls of a foreign tongue as his gaze flickers to you and back to Jace. 

Gods, you think - if anyone could see between the lines: your shared flush, the marks that just conceal under the modest neckline of your dress, the budding mark that lies just under the curls near his jaw - the way your body drifts ever so slightly towards the heat of Jace’s arm. If anyone were to notice, Daemon would be the one. 

You shift upon your feet - the other council members, sensing the growing discord, exchange uneasy glances. Rhaenyra shakes her head minutely. “It is late. Let us hear what our guest has to say before the sun rises.” She orders. 

A flicker of fear; what if the messenger rears to be some kind of assassin, prepared to take the Queen’s life? By camouflage, bearing false words about your own neck, when it is hers he intends to take? 

“-But we must consider your safety, your Grace.” You speak up, voice practical, though a tremor of anxiety lies beneath your calm exterior. “How are we to know this isn’t some plot?” 

The long shadows upon the walls are a faint reminder of the docks of Blackwater Bay in the evening, floating licks of orange flame across the abyss of sea. How easily an assassin could be dressed in the clothing of a page, sent under the guise of some pretext from the pretender’s Hand.

“They would not dare try such a thing.” She denies, “Not here, on Dragonstone - at court, with the Queensguard.” Despite your half-sister's deflection, there are murmurs of agreement. Daemon's eyes flash with approval. “Ser Erryk, Ser Alfred - keep a close watch on the messenger. Any sign of treachery, and you know what to do. The rest will remain at the Queen’s side.” 

Ser Erryk nods, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he moves to stand by Rhaenyra's side; The room falls silent, the tense air of roused slumber and alarm ringing thick. You blink back the pained ache that has begun to fester behind your eyes; sleep calls to you insistently, yet the burning adrenaline keeps your heart pumping, your eyes blinking. 

“Prepare the chamber for an audience,” Rhaenyra orders, her voice steady despite the early hour. “Maester Gerardys, take two swords with you to accept the messenger.”

NEVER HAVE YOU SEEN THE THRONE ROOM BATHED IN SUCH DARK.

The late hour casts shadows, oppressive and sinister, across the obsidian throne; slated, rising up like those very cliffs outside the ramparts of the castle. Such cold, stone walls. The recess of your mind has not yet forgotten how it felt to stand before such ancestry power, before her.

Bloodied, hurt, desperate - hardened by determination. Imposed upon, by the harsh stare of the boy who now stands just aside you. You’re nothing but a puppet, dancing on strings pulled by whoever promises you a bit of power. With the memory of his words, a sharp lance to the side, you swallow thickly. 

You remain with the other members a level below where Rhaenyra sits upon the throne - Jacaerys leaves your side with a glance to join Daemon and Lord Corlys aside her. Hands perch on hilts, eyes aflame with despotted determination. 

The queen is announced as wide oak doors creak open - Maester Gerardys enters with a small figure behind. 

Bewildered, you share a look with Rhaena and Baela; the messenger could not be much younger than yourself, with hair of gold and eyes of green. 

A Lannister boy, then. 

Perhaps, reared at Casterly Rock - brought to the keep to assist the Master of Coin. A swornsword follows - stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne; when the boy stands alone in front of the court, Daemon’s eyes roll with the subtlety of a dragon in a sheepfield. 

Rhaenyra’s voice cuts through the oppressive silence. “What is the meaning of this?” 

The messenger unrolls a scroll; with a shaky breath, he bows to the Queen before turning towards you - your blood runs cold as he begins to read aloud the message: 

“To the traitor who once swore fealty to King Aegon II, 

It is with grave displeasure that His Grace has received your declaration of allegiance to the pretender, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Oh, Gods be good. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to melt into the background, trembling as your fury festers. Daemon shifts his weight; Rhaenyra’s displeasure grows. The shame of being seen consumes you. 

“In the spirit of preserving the realm and avoiding unnecessary bloodshed, His Grace, King Aegon II, extends a proposal to rectify your betrayal and bring it to a swift conclusion. 

Your jaw clenches as he speaks, the thought of your brother sitting among his small council of fools and traitors within the Keep stirring a deep anger.

“First, you shall present yourself at King’s Landing to face judgment, where your mercy shall be decided by His Grace King Aegon II. Second, to solidify alliances and ensure the stability of the realm, you are hereby betrothed to the son of Ser Jason Lannister, Loreon Lannister. The marriage will come end of the seventh moon of the year. 

You will leave the court of the Usurper at once, to answer for your tresspasses against the crown. Should you refuse these terms, you will be stripped of your title and expelled from the lands of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms; No longer shall you hold any title, claim, or influence within these realms, and your name will be struck from the annals of all noble houses sworn to King Aegon II.”

Your breath is frozen in your lungs, unable to enter or exit your chest. What kind of deception is this? Stripped of your title? As if a mere king can decide who has blood of the dragon or not.

“Signed Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, on behalf of His Grace, King Aegon II Targaryen-"

The messenger’s voice is cut off rather briskly as his head falls from his body. 

A moment, stretched slowly; a glint of a sword sliding in the dark, the warm spray of release at impact. Rhaena and Baela are pushed behind you in a rather instinctual shove, burdening yourself with a welcome of warm blood upon your shocked lips. Thick, dark - it splatters across the bust of your gown, your cheeks, your hair; tainted, with the innocent. 

 A voice, lilting: The butterfly escapes the web, but the dragon’s breath will singe its wings. This morning, it seems you do not have the energy to ask Helaena to leave your head. 

A horror, a memory whispering in your mind as the decapitated body keels down, folding unto the stone, in a slumped heap. Your vision narrows, the floor swimming below you - distantly, the sellsword shouts - he is struck down within moments, his own body thudding as he crashes to the ground. A hand tightens around your arm, though you scarcely feel it. 

Your vision shakes, imbued with red as Daemon wipes the blood from his blade - a picture of himself those years ago in the Red Keep, having struck down Vaemond near identically. 

If you were to drop a hairpin on the floor, its echo could be heard out in the hall. 

The bodies, slumped upon the throne room floor, look suddenly so young; A gust through the hall, as if the sweetness summer has dissipated, cursing weary corpses in the dawn of winter to come. 

Every muscle within your body is tense, a sickly metallic smell thick within your nostrils. A rush of anger; betrayal at the cold, calculated, empty threats that have just been laid out before you, but more at the brash and foolish act Daemon has just committed.

Your horrified gaze seeks Rhaenyra. 

Her own eyes blaze with fury, her voice like the crack of thunder. “What have you done, Daemon?” she demands, her tone sharp and unyielding. 

Rhaena, whose hand found your other forearm just after her father’s blade found the boy’s neck, tightens just as her sister’s upon the fabric of your dress. 

Subtly, you wipe at your lips with the back of a palm; it comes away muddled with blood that did not come from your veins. You fight the urge to expel the contents of your stomach upon the stone

Daemon shrugs, a cold smirk playing on his lips as he sheaths his bloodied sword. “I silenced an insolent mouth,” he replies nonchalantly, wiping his hands clean. You shudder in fury at his hubris. 

“This was a messenger, Daemon, a boy. Not a foe on the battlefield,” Rhaenyra snaps, her fists clenched in anger as she rises to him. “We needed him alive to send a response, to show we are not savages.”

The court is frozen in shock, the air thick with silence; Rhaenyra steps down from the throne, her eyes never leaving Daemon’s. “You have acted rashly and without thought. This will not go unanswered.”

Corlys, eyes dark with anger, nods. “The greens will surely take this as a provocation - a justification for further bloodshed.”

Daemon’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing. “They send threats in the eve of night and expect us to bow. I will not grovel to that usurper nor his lackey when they try to push around the whims of a mere girl - and neither should our Queen.” 

You’ve begun to tremble, head light and empty of any thoughts - you barely glare at Daemon for such belittling words. 

You, in a ditch for comfort amidst the panic upon your stomach, seek Jacaerys, who stands across the way. 

The prince’s jaw is clenched, eyes staring hard at the syrupy dark that pools onto the obsidian from the mangled body, a bloody mess before your feet. The emerald eyes of the boy stare lifeless up at your own and your stomach lurches; looking back to Jace, you meet warm eyes - a glance, an expression hardened but laced with unbridled worry. Unsure why, you raise your brows slightly. He returns the gesture subtly, before focusing venomously upon the back of Daemon’s head. 

“We must let them know we do not fear their words.” Daemon finishes, jaw tight - he and Rhaenyra share a sharp look, an anger slithering between their gazes in a heat so tight it might snap. 

After a moment, Rhaenyra turns to the courtiers, her voice commanding. “Remove their bodies and have a pyre prepared.” She soothes her hands down her gown, pursing her lips in regally concealed displeasure, “Await our decision to King’s Landing about this…unfortunate accident.” 

They obey. 

You stand numbly, staring at your feet as inky blood crawls slowly towards your night slippers, infecting you, staining you, corrupting you. 

Your hands are stained with crimson, your satin gown ruined - it will take the handmaids hours to scrub this dress free of blood. How trivial, you think, to notice such things. 

The sharp sting of embarrassment and shame reddens your cheeks - struggling to hold back the anger that threatens to betray your composure, you let out a sharp exhale. A humiliation; a fourth betrayal, some twisting of the knife already long wedged between the blades of your shoulders. 

A boy lies dead at your feet, because of you. 

Daemon has ensured that should you ever lay eyes upon the greens again, it will be at the cost of your life. Your hands grip the skirt of your dress as you try to steady yourself - a very harsh reality of impending banishment and the implications of this boy’s murder feels like a cold shroud wrapping around you; you tell yourself to calm. 

The threat is empty - all of them are; You are to fight in this war, and win it. Rhaenyra will sit the throne - she will never banish you, nor make such outlandish claims that you shall lose your title, nor the name you have carried since before your birth. 

Despite this, the words trivializing you only serves to heighten your sense of isolation.

To think, your biggest sorrow this evening was being cursed to wait to approve a marriage between you and Jacaerys. A bitter flare flickers through you as your eyes cut to him. 

Amidst the discussion you should likely join, your gaze seeks his comfort; a new, unfamiliar feeling indeed. His expression contorted with concentration, some frustration, they catch yours, trailing over the bodice of your gown, likely taking in the splattering of crimson that is soon drying upon the fabric. Unwilling, a voice echoes once more in your mind: It’s hard to miss when someone dresses as if they’re trying to hide the stains of betrayal with a new cloak-

It isn’t until the Queen’s voice, tired and consequential, orders everyone to leave that you snap out of it. 

“You are all dismissed.” She says suddenly; eyes turn to her in shock. 

Jacaerys takes a step towards you, but is intercepted by his mother, whose pace is brisk as she reaches you. His hesitation pangs your heart, wishing only to be in his company. 

Instead, you turn to face the Queen - for a moment, your eyes take in her icy ones, a flash of emotion in them before she flicks a strand of hair from your shoulder. Your wince is hidden as it tugs, sticky with drying blood. 

“Sister,” She orders, “Come with me.” 

You bow stiffly, still in shock; and then you are following her - with a craned neck, you turn to catch Jacaerys’ eye. 

“Where are you going?” Daemon questions, arms crossed.

Jace’s voice is similarly irate, “You cannot leave. We must discuss our next steps.”

Rhaenyra stops, turning sharply. Her eyes flash dangerously as she tightens her grip on your arm, but you still feel her tremble. And you know well the touch of fear when you feel it.  “Enough.” she snaps, her voice echoing through the hall. “This is not a discussion. The court is dismissed. We will reconvene in the light of day.”

Not foolish enough to resist the Queen's orders, you follow her with one last glance towards Jacaerys. His stare of disbelief offers no comfort as you and the queen leave the court to await the morrow.

Daemon and Lord Corlys have begun a discussion with Lords Staunton and Celtigar, and Jace turns to join them at once, not sparing a second look at your retreating figure.

YOU FEEL THE TENSION BEFORE HE EVEN ARRIVES AT YOUR QUARTERS. 

Perhaps finding sleep might have been wise; a sluggish dread, one that had clung to you as you attended the Queen's chambers at her behest still remains now; just as oppressive, as obscuring as it had been when you’d followed her rushed steps down the staircase to her apartments.

And then it had been just you and your sister, alone.

Of course, not without protest; aware of pursuers, she had shut the heavy wooden doors to her apartments right behind you, the thud reverberating through the silence. Company was denied as she’d motioned to a nearby servant, instructing them to bring you some water and a change of clothing. 

“I know this has been a grievous night for you,” she’d said, voice quieter but still filled with the weight of authority, “Daemon’s actions were reckless, and the threat from Aegon was indeed stirring, but you must remember, we must stand together in any fight.” 

During the following hour, not once but thrice a servant entered, informing you that the King consort and Prince Jacaerys wished to speak with you and the Queen; and each time, they were denied. Perhaps you were simply exhausted; stricken with dread, anger, confusion - but it truly became suffocating. Ironic, how Jacaerys can bear such similarities to Daemon in his wrath.

As you left the Queen’s chambers early this morn, you could nearly feel your rationality slipping from your grasp - and now, the sun has begun to rise up once more.

Your eyes sting at each glance you spare out the window to the bloody rise of dawn; you are alone, but not for long. 

You should have slept this morning, just as you should have slept last night. Slowly, you ward off the memories of your happenings all around your chamber - the bed, previously tossed upon with wrinkled furs and the weight of Jacaerys, now done up by your maids with tightly folded corners and crisp sheets; the chair upon which you sit and the scuff marks it’d drawn upon the stone floors after Jace had pushed you onto it - now tucked in and turned to its correct position facing the desk. 

The discarded cup of wine you’d knocked over haphazardly when his knees had so willingly dropped to the floor before you; the spill now wiped up and goblet gone. Melted wax, dripped completely off a wicked candle, that had pooled in a hard crust upon the desk until one of your handmaids had scraped it away this morning while you bathed. 

Perhaps it is your paranoid mind, or perhaps you truly have lost it - but you feel him before you even hear the knock. 

It comes within moments of such observation; Fatigue claims you in the heavy downturn of your gaze, the puffiness of your eyes, the tension and exhaustion within your mind. 

You beckon his voice when it rings behind your door, because you have been expecting him. Your chamberdoor creaks open; Jacaerys’ footsteps are weighed with his own sleepless hours. 

He is arrestingly handsome this morning, as all mornings - though he offers you a terse nod, his eyes darkened by the shadows of the morning. The room is dim, the bloody light of waking sun barely touching the stone floors, casting elongated shadows that seem to dance around the edges of your vision.

You sit at your writing desk, the ink wet within the bottle but the parchment empty, your thoughts tangled and frayed; you ignore as the quill chitters at you, mocking your inability to form coherent thoughts. 

Jace’s eyes search yours. With a flicker of recognition, you prepare yourself - because you know this look; a look you grew quite used to in the months following your arrival. He is dissatisfied. 

“I thought I should check on you, since it appears you’re now accepting company.” he says, his tone rough, the echo of sleeplessness clear in his voice. 

You nod, unable to form a coherent response, nor even acknowledge the veiled slight at the end of the sentence. The silence stretches between you, heavy and laden with unspoken words; recalling how gratifying - selfish, perhaps - it had been to forget everything last evening. To live in a world where, if only for an hour, it was just you, him, and some kind of pleasure. Some carnal need. 

He’d stood last night where he stands now; I can't bear this, he’d said. You ignore the skeptical flame that stokes within your breast, looking away; a bitter swallow. You foolish girl. More than glad to give Jacaerys a distraction, it seems. To distract yourself, too. You sin, your mother’s voice whispers, you let him use you. You let yourself succumb to a bastard. 

You clench your eyes shut momentarily, wishing to expel your mother’s venomous voice from your veins; What a fragile thing to consider - what a little death it has become, to escape her clutches but never her judgment. In the eyes of the Mother. 

You try for a smile, but it does not come out correctly. “Did you rest well?” 

He gives you a nearly exasperated look; you clear your throat, “Did you rest at all?” You mend. 

His cross expression grows, footsteps muffled by the thick rug upon the floor. He is soon stopped before you, his eyes locking onto yours, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear - you do not dare look away. You know what is to come, for you saw it in his eyes the moment his mother dismissed the council this morn. 

"I could not afford to rest. While you and my mother retreated to prattle behind closed doors, the rest of us were rather occupied with the burden of ensuring your protection.” Sharp; a hint of accusation in his voice. 

Your anger simmers within, a fiery ember stoked by his tone. You bristle, feeling the heat of your indignation rise, shaking off the weariness that had draped over you in your exhaustion. Jacaerys may be the prince, but you’re still a princess; he ought not forget so. “Mind your tongue,” You hiss. “The Queen and I were discussing the matter at hand.”

His knuckles are white around the hilt of his sword. “Yet instead of sharing your insights with us, you retreat?” 

You cannot help but eye the sheath around his waist with disdain; echoes of Dark Sister, gleaming with the blood of the Lannister boy. You take a drawn breath, actively ignoring the pounding of your head’s ache. 

“I understand your frustration,” you attempt to reason with him, your voice tight, “but we needed time to deliberate privately on what happened. The message, the…” you swallow, picking at your nails as you subconsciously try to scrub the blood away, though they’ve been long clean. “All of it. The threats it will bring - to me, to her. The only reason I was summoned was because the letter was directed towards me, if you may recall. Clearly, attempting to use me as a tool to unsettle your mother’s claim.”

“And so you cloister yourselves away, to gossip and conspire away from the council - who were appointed to aid in such matters?” 

Jacaerys is hurt; angry, upset, scared - but he is also insulting. And irrational men make the gravest errors.

“It was necessary to deliberate away from the incessant prattle and intrusion of men in our ears.” You snap. “Lest one of you decided to decapitate another innocent.” 

He mutters something under his breath, barely audible. “Maybe you’ll prefer a Lannister’s company, then, if you find our counsel so burdensome.” 

Your heart clenches, the implication cutting deep. You stand from the chair rather abruptly; Jace does not flinch - his head tilts down, a subtle attempt to remind you of the difference in height between you. It means nothing to you in this moment. “Pardon?” You snap. 

He levels you with a look. “I said nothing.” 

He is acting as a child. The air within your chambers is nearly suffocating; you feel a moment away from either passing out or snapping completely. 

How could he dare say such a thing? How could he dare to, for one moment, consider the foolish allusions to your assumed betrothal - one that will never play out? 

After all that’s happened, all that will happen, that is what he’s chosen to focus on? 

Your mind screams, begs for sleep. 

Jacaerys’s skin is still bathed in a bloodied hue from the rising of the waking sun; you ignore the pang of anxiety within your stomach - the Lannister boy was no older than Jacaerys, than you. 

“You cannot truly be hung up on that, Prince Jacaerys.” You hiss, disbelief laced through your words. He bristles at the formal title, ire flashing in his eyes as he turns to you, nearly bewildered. 

“Can I not?” He counters, “They wish you to show up at the Red Keep - what are they thinking, expecting you to be carted off like some baseborn… to be paraded around King's Landing, to be…” He looks away, nearly disgusted, “bartered like some chattel.” 

You sigh sharply, leaning back as you run a hand through your unruly hair; your exhaustion frays your patience, but there is no part of you that wishes to appear less than furious. 

“Should there be any doubt in your mind, let me make it clear now. I have no intention of submitting to any commands from Aegon’s mouthpiece. The idea of going back there is as repugnant to me as it is to you.” You scoff, your own temper rising as you consider his tone more, adding, “Especially after what Daemon’s done.” 

An exasperated gesture of his hands, unrelenting, “All the more reason you must strategize with us, to remain safe with us.” His headshake is bitter, “Forgive me, but sudden retreats to private chambers do not inspire confidence in your ability to do so.” 

He has quite the audacity to so abruptly assume the role of your protector. “Quite amusing.” You narrow your gaze, “If memory serves, only days past you were quite swift to wield your sword at my throat. And just as soon to brand me a traitor for all to hear. Prepared to cast me right back up the Gullet, were you not? A snake in dragon’s clothing, you said.” 

There is no denying, his words are bitter when you throw them back at him. 

His nostrils flare, eyes expressive; the truth clearly stings him just as it does you. “That was before-”

“Before what?” you interrupt, anger and hurt lacing your words. “Before you decided it was worth the trouble to indulge yourself between my thighs?”

A ghost, some shadow of remorse; Your words echo in the silence - his eyes, fierce but momentarily bridled with disbelief. He opens his mouth, words bubbling up, but they hang in the air like mist, elusive and unspoken, until he mutters, “That has nothing to do with the matter at hand.” 

A very poor response, indeed - your heart clenches. You turn away from him, fury and pain bubbling with the fear in your heart; his voice, mere days ago - Is it true that your taste in fashion matches your taste in allegiances? A bit confused, I presume. 

Your nostrils flare, recalling the sheer embarrassment his words brought upon you, how you’d so easily let yourself become spun into his arms - so easily given in to such temptations in his gaze. 

You foolish girl. You turn to look at him, eyes watered and stinging. “Do you find my fashion less confused, now that it has been stained red and black with the blood of the innocent?” 

His face reflects a shame - cheeks red, brows lacing together. A momentary inhale, “I spoke out of turn that evening, I did not mean it.” 

You do not hide your scoff of disbelief and this serves to incense him further. 

His voice is low, defensive, provoked: “You act as though it was mine own sword that carried out the act!” His glare is sharp, “I know just as well as you how dangerous Daemon’s actions this morning have been. Especially for you.” 

The table swims below you as you whirl to face it. Your hands, fumbling to grab at something - a handkerchief with your initials embroidered to the corner - lest they begin to tremble and belay your emotions too much. 

You cannot help it; all matters of pretense are gone, left out the window the moment Jace uttered of the backless betrothal arranged by the pretender king. 

Try as he may to protect you, the notion has you reeling. Your fingers clench tight to the kerchief in your hand. “Jacaerys, I beg of you. Spare me the pretense of your sudden concern for my well-being, as though it were anything but a matter of your own desires.” 

You do not see it, but you hear the incensed indignation in his voice. “-By the gods, you truly think I’m driven only by desire?” Jace’s voice spits, barely controlled, but you have none of it. 

Whirling around, you do not try to hide the emotion of your eyes. “Yes, Jace! You scarcely spoke to me for a fortnight—barely met my gaze thrice since my arrival—yet you’ve not seemed to have any trouble finding my neckline.” You accuse, recalling his icy glares and cold remarks, the way his head would subtly turn to watch you retreat as you walked past in the halls. “Do you think me foolish enough to not notice this sudden change of interest?”

Jacaerys’s expression darkens around rosy cheeks, his knuckles white as the sun where he clenches his hilt - but he does not deny such accusations. 

Your laugh is a bitter one to hide your humiliation. 

“And now you act so affronted, as though your sudden concern with me is born of anything but a desire to claim me for yourself. You do not want me to advise the queen without your presence - you are blinded by the fleeting, falsified claim of me betrothed to another, ignoring that a sentence after, my brother threatened to have my head.” You scoff, shaking your head, “You cannot strip me of my choices just because now it suits you to do so!” 

His eyes flicker with disbelief, affronted. “Do not misinterpret my concern as some measly desire to claim you for myself.” Jacaerys’s voice is sharp, yet there’s an undercurrent of hurt. “I’m not blinded by a false betrothal, I’m enraged by the threat to your life.” He looks at you, exasperated, hissing your name, “You could die. We cannot protect you, nor the Queen, if you hide away and conspire amongst yourselves.”  

Emotions swirl; exhaustion beats upon you with the pounding ache of your mind. Your voice is too close to desperate as you shake your head up at him. 

“Why must you never find it within yourself to trust me, Jacaerys? Why must I continuously prove to you my loyalty to mine own sister’s birthright, when every other already sees it?”

Eyes, wide, deep and umber, search for something between your own. You’ve grown wearied to the bone by this discourse; by the unyielding chasm that seems to only grow between you and Jacaerys with each waking day. It has begun to feel as though you are two angry hounds, chasing each other’s tails with snapping jaws; cursed, to encircle each other forever.

“It’s not about loyalty, or trust. Of course I trust you!” He retorts, “I just– I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt, or…worse.” 

A flicker in his eyes; Lucerys, your mind whispers to you. But the thought is too painful - the memory of such a sweet, kind life - an innocent life, taken. 

It occurs to you rather suddenly that love, in its purest form, is such a fragile thing. 

That Lannister boy had people who loved him. The sellsword too, perhaps - and yet they were taken from this world without so much as a blink by people who knew not even their names. 

What a futile thing, love is. 

A shudder in your chest as you come to understand; to cherish someone in such times is to invite sorrow upon yourself - and to learn to love Jacaerys, with all the fervor and depth of your heart as you know you would, is to court grief. The mere thought of his absence - a void that would engulf your very soul - is a torment too great to bear. 

So as you gaze upon his face, so alight with ire, determination, devotion - you retreat into the cold embrace of logic, of duty.

You meet his gaze, your voice dripping with bitterness. “If caring for me is your answer, then your misplaced affection is nothing more than a weakness.” The words are sharper than you intend, aimed to wound.

The moment the words leave your lips, you see the immediate effect; Jacaerys’s face pales, flinching slightly. He nods slowly, jaw clenching and shoulders squared. A shadow; a staggered inhale as he levels you with a withering look. 

“Perhaps it is.” He spits, large brown eyes resenting, contemptuous. 

Your own shadow of heartbreak washes across your breast; with a bite of pain, your heart drops in immediate regret. 

Without another word, Jacaerys turns and walks toward the door - his posture is rigid, you can see the tense in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. 

The weight of Jacaerys’ previous accusations weigh too heavy upon your shoulders to give in to the guilt you feel - you will not be treated like an object of desire, rather than a valued advisor. Tears burn at your eyes, the dual-headed beast of dread and burden rearing its head to you. 

The door shuts behind him with force, and the room seems to collapse in on itself. 

You are left alone, the silence amplifying as you suck in ragged, dizzying breaths; the mirth you’d harbored moments earlier dissolves into a deep, aching regret. 

Unable to hold back any longer, you collapse into your chair, burying your face in your arms as sobs wrack your body. The tears flow freely; the embroidered kerchief sits abandoned, untouched upon your writing desk. 

The needlepoint hung above your head stares down at you; a spider and a small butterfly with singed wings, flying from a dragon. You ignore its whisper, its call; writing it off as the wind through your loose hair. You whisper softly for your sister. 

THE SUN EVENTUALLY FINDS ITS CREST IN THE SKY, UNIMBUED BY CLOUDS. 

You know your dragon lurks within the mont, restlessly waiting for you; it has been too long since you rode with her. 

The tea before you is less unappealing at this hour, yet leaves the same bitter taste within your mouth as you sit your place before the painted table, back straight and head thundering. 

You slept most of the day, after Jacaerys left; your body finally rejecting the foolish battle of remaining alert amidst the puffiness of your tears. The muscles of your legs ache, your throat dry and bruised - your mind gnaws just as your stomach; churning as you ward off unwanted visions: 

Jace, lying upon the mattress below you, his chest heaving, head canted back. The rustle of a scrolled message, unraveled. Your lips, peppering down taught muscles - fingers tangling in your hair. Crimson, splattered upon fabric. A wanton groan, a sharp gasp. Some humming whisper in your ear - a riddle, of betrayals-four. A sick trickle of blackened blood, flowing in rivulets upon the cracked stone floor. A steeled voice, low from kiss-bruised lips: Jurnegon rȳ nyke. Look at me. The last widening of emerald eyes that will never once more see the light of day. 

There is the parchment, in your grandsire’s penmanship - marred with a dark splatter; a festering, open wound upon the painted table. 

A distant caw of gulls upon the shore, a yearning to let the sea mist kiss your face, the rush of clouds sweeping past your head. You reluctantly pull your thoughts away from the outer world, adjusting your sight to the solemn slated room in which you remain. 

"-It was a letter addressed to her, declared before my entire court.” Rhaenyra remains firm, arms crossed as she stares at the parchment. “A deliberate attempt to undermine our unity, to..to sow discord among us." 

Daemon is similarly stubborn. "Words from a usurper mean little,” He drolls, “they should not unsettle us."

Jacaerys speaks up from his seat, cheekbones illuminated in the upglow of the candlelight of the table below. "And yet, here we are, unsettled." His fiery eyes meet Daemon’s. 

Jacaerys is cross; has not taken one glance at you since council was called - nor have you sought out his attention, your own anger still festering with the memory of his words. Maybe you’ll prefer a Lannister’s company, then, if you find our counsel so burdensome.

His gaze simmers; you know it is upon your visage, but you do not grant him the pleasure of meeting your eyes. 

"Some of us more than others, it seems." He finishes. 

A poke to the hornet’s nest, as it were. You stiffen at his words, feeling the sting of his veiled insult; you sigh, unwilling to contribute to his remonstrance. She’s just as much of a nuisance as her brothers. 

Isn’t she?

You send him a heavy stare for a moment - one met with steadfast ignorance, as he’s chosen to redirect his brooding stare to his mother - and then you sigh, looking instead to the members of council before you. “After this morning…” Your eyes flicker to the sword upon Daemon’s side, “-it is likely they will paint me a villain, around the capitol.” You say. A moment of consideration at your words. 

"What of a public response of our own? Denounce the proclamation and, in doing such, reaffirm loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra from our bannermen." Lord Celtigar suggests. Baela, from beside you, leans forward. "And what of the threats within the proclamation? They should not be ignored."

Daemon hums at his daughter from across the table. "The notion that she may somehow lose her own birthright, her name, for supporting the rightful successor is foolish. There are no real threats in the letter." He says, nearly dismissive - Baela tenses beside you. 

You feel equally vexed by his tone. “There may not have been,” You start, placing the mug of tea before you. “Until you killed the Lannister boy.”

The room falls silent. 

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them - you are once again reminded of his vicious tenacity. You set your jaw, ignoring the looks from around the table, “A brash decision. But,” You start, “the Greens will thrive on any disunity. So we must display the opposite of such." You acquiesce, keenly aware of the rolling brown eyes diagonal of you, a small scoff. 

"Tis easier said than done when some among us prefer retreating to private discussions, rather than engaging with the council." Jace’s words are sharp, a whip of fire within an iced chamber. 

 A reminder, perhaps, of his quick temper - so readily stirred, despite his commonly measured demeanor; you resist the rolling glare of your eyes, opting to clench them shut for a moment to gather your composure. 

Queen Rhaenyra delivers him a look, brows furrowing with dismay at his tone. “It was not a retreat.” She dismisses him with a stern look. “It was prescient to not shed any more blood whilst considering such an urgent matter." 

Daemon and Jacaerys both turn away, jaws clenched, eyes fixed on opposite walls of the chamber. You stifle a scoff at their childishness. An old passage from the Seven Pointed Star about apples falling not far rings in your mind. 

Rhaenys’ voice is smooth from the end of the table. "The fact remains that we must act as one." She reminds. 

Rhaenyra sighs, “Then we shall send out ravens to our bannermen, ensuring their support remains steadfast. Denouncing such absurd claims from the usurper.” 

Jacaerys, still quite cross, gestures to the parchment. “And what of the populace? They may be swayed by Otto Hightower’s words, if we do not counter them effectively.” 

Rhaenys offers a thoughtful nod. “A coordinated response, then. Letters to our allies and… some kind of public address to the smallfolk.” 

Daemon’s eyes remain fixed on an unseen point, his thoughts likely on the implications of his actions. 

Jacaerys’s fingers tap restlessly in a pattern upon the table, and you watch them with vague memories: those fingers, lithe and cool against flushed skin - dragging along the expanse of your throat, down your sternum, sliding to pull your thighs apart; your mind halts in its tracks when his gaze flickers to you once, resentment clear. Unmoving.  

The heavy attention so suddenly engulfs you in flames of shame; You look away, hiding your own disdain as you take a large gulp of the tea before you, ignoring the stinging feeling of hypocrisy and discomfiture under your own desire. You sin, your mother ceaselessly reminds you. 

"We ought to give a show of strength.” Daemon decides, coming out of the recesses of his mind. “Perhaps a demonstration of our power will remind them who they are dealing with."

Rhaenyra looks at him, exasperated. "And risk provoking them further? No."

But he’s been pondering; he stops, staring at a point of the table you cannot see, before rising to full height. “If we show them every piece of our faction aligned…” he leans forward; there is an intent in his eyes. “Then it will indeed speak volumes on our internal strength. As for the smallfolk… a demonstration less… violent.” He finishes. Corlys, down the table, hums. “Unyielding.” 

You do not miss it, however miniscule it is: Rhaenyra and Rhaenys’ eyes, meeting across the table in a brief, laden glance; Daemon, Corlys, the other lords - all of them with expressions unreadable yet congruent. 

You glance at Baela, finding her expression as perplexed as your own. In that moment, you become acutely aware of the chasm of wisdom afforded between you and the elder members of the small council; Despite your training and schooling, you - Baela, Rhaena, and Jace - remain quite inexperienced in the presence of the others. Your cheeks heat with the shame of childish illusions of grandeur. 

Jacaerys’s jaw tightens, seemingly observing the moment similarly; His gaze has drifted to the parchment before him once more. “A public address, ravens denouncing their claims. And what else? We must act in a way that solidifies our stance, not just in words but in actions.”

He’s correct; your eyes glaze as you begin running over options within your mind. Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts to Jacaerys, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “Honor lies in action, indeed.” 

Daemon clears his throat. “It seems we are all agreed upon the necessity of a firm response, both to our enemies and to our allies.” 

Rhaenyra nods, though her eyes linger momentarily on you; there is a pause, thick with implication, as if she is pondering something unsaid - you blink back owlishly, unused to her sudden attention. 

A small worry in the back of your mind - They wouldn’t dare suggest you truly go to King’s Landing… would they? A gust of icy fear through your heart at the thought - you’d not make it three steps before losing your head. She does not voice her thoughts, and it does nothing to settle the nerves within your stomach. 

“Well,” Rhaenya folds her hands upon her stomach, “It has been a tiresome day. Let us take time this evening to rest. We shall reconvene once we have all considered the ramifications.” 

You cannot ignore the glace shot your way from Jacaerys; at this angle, you can see a bruise in the shape of your lips that paints a small blemish just below his ear; your stomach flips in a horrid concoction of heat and guilt. 

You release a breath, ignoring the smoldering stare across from you. You know you must speak with him, though you wish nothing more than to avoid him. 

Anxiety knots within your belly, that cunning serpent coiling tighter with each passing thought - You were rash, allowing fear to seize your tongue this morning. A conversation must come if there is to be any hope of mending whatever delicate…companionship has grown between you and Jacaerys during your time upon Dragonstone - one which you both so easily discarded earlier this morning. 

As the council members rise and Queen Rhaenyra takes her leave, you linger in hesitation. Heart beating a discordant rhythm, you tug at the bodice of your gown and grit your teeth - but before you can gather the courage to approach, Jacaerys has already slipped from the chamber, vanishing into the shadowed depths of the castle to brood in solitude.

A DAY PASSES BEFORE YOU FIND A MOMENT TO ATTEND YOUR DRAGON.

The wind whispers through your hair as you ascend into the sky; with a grin, the drop in your stomach is accompanied with adrenaline as you call to fly higher, “Eglikta!” 

Your dragon takes your command with glee, wings powerful as they beat a quicker rhythm, bringing you closer to the heavens. It’s been much too long - you haven’t ridden upon her for this long since your escape from the Keep those months ago; though such memories are far from your mind this afternoon, wonderfully empty save for the scales that rest, warm and known, under your palms. 

A surge of unbridled freedom; you soar above the clouds, gliding effortlessly over the endless, shimmering expanse of the sea below. A seacreature leaps from the depths and you laugh in surprise - wind against your face, the island becomes a distant painting, stroked with a hundred shades of green and blue. 

There are clouds above; rain will come in the evening, as it did the eve before, and the eve before that - the memory of drizzled water against the sill of your chamber window, candles flickering, Jacaerys’ voice low and warm; you shut the thought from your mind. 

It was not raining when Daemon took the head of the Lannister boy, your mind reminds you; a clench of your heart, you cast aside all thoughts that ravage your weary mind. 

Soon, an eclipse of sunlight draws your mind from its dredges; a shape, familiar as the back of your hand, reflected in refractions of clouds and water on the ocean below - another dragon. 

It seems your dragon has craned her neck to gaze above you - a delighted chortle, a low screeching as she draws upwards sharply, jolting your momentum back with a startled gasp. 

The scales of the dragon above glint; emerald looks polished, nearly bronze in the light of the day as your dragon flies to meet her familiar - your stomach dips wildly. 

Vermax lets loose a similar rumble of recognition as he emerges from a batch of fluffy clouds high above -  despite the seize in your heart at the glimpse of the rider upon Vermax’s back, you let your dragon near, not possessing the heart to separate her from him. 

Vermax and your own dragon - born two of four small eggs of Syrax. Placed in the cradles of you and your nephew in your own youths and hatched; grown together, flying for many years under the same sky.

The years in which Vermax lived within the Dragonmont while your own dragon resided within the Dragonpit were laced with a forlorning; a mourning, for a part of themselves lost to distance and destiny. 

No longer.  

You could not have believed yourself surprised when, after arriving upon the island, you’d looked up through your temporary cell’s window to see their two shadows dancing upon the shimmering sky, chittering excitement and roaring into the chasmed blanket of night. 

Today, it seems they are just as enthusiastic to fly together. 

With a grunt, your hands fly to stabilize yourself; your dragon spirals, chirruping as Vermax dips to circle her - a joyous play, as if young pups. The earth below spirals in your vision and you shut your eyes for a moment, reveling in the ecstasy of thrill at the dipping and swaying. 

Scales catch light of the sun in brilliant flashes. Emerald and sapphire; an ocean and its shore. 

Sharp drop of weight and you let out a short yelp - a well-waited thrill, your eyes wide as you glimpse Vermax and his rider diving steeply just beside you; Jacaerys rides upon Vermax with a small smile, his hair windswept and damp from the moisture of clouds above. 

Just as true in youth as now, the sun seems to favor him more than anybody you’ve ever met. 

It kisses his silhouette gently, divined from the very gods you ride upon; fiery, golden, striking. Lit in a warm glow, a sturdy chest, aquiline nose, plush lips. His gaze finds yours as your twinned dragons soar towards the chasm of blue below. 

It is indeed the first time you’ve seen him in a sun’s cycle - You offer him a strained, tight-lipped smile, acutely aware of the tempest of ire and remorse mirrored in both your eyes and his own. 

A terse nod, which he returns; eyes less than pleased to meet your company, though he hides it just as well as he did in youth. You scarcely have a moment to feel such pangs of dissatisfaction before the dragons split - their feet skimming against the ocean below. A yell of exclamation from Jace harmonizes with your own scream of surprise. 

Water sprays up, drenching you both in salty droplets, and you find yourselves laughing incredulously, the strain of shared enmity momentarily forgotten in common exhilaration. 

“Jikagon, Vermax!” Jacaerys’ command to go is far away as your dragon ascends once more - but you can hear the twinge of amusement. Swallowing back the thick wad of thorns within your throat, you smile to yourself smally; never does he seem more free than upon the back of Vermax. You wonder what he sees when you’re aback your own dragon; that same uninhibited joy, the absence of worry, of duty, of harbored emotions.  

With the flicker of smoldering, ancient eyes behind you, a memory of youthful chases on dragonback spurs your call. “Jikagon, Vermax arghugon īlva!” Your dragon screeches with excitement at your command- Go, Vermax will chase us - her tail flicks as her wings pull you upwards.  

Vermax indeed chases you; A jubilant screech from your own steed as you hold the leather tight - dipping, serpentining through the air. The ocean shimmers below you, the air whips above you; That scarce memory once again - you, flying in your youth behind Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, Vermax and Arrax snarling with lively pursuit behind you. And the watchful, judging eyes of your mother - always so wary of dragons - below you as you and the others soar over.  

Your elation is curbed as the cold reality washes over you; the absence of pearlescent scales now seems to swallow you whole. The dragons chirp playfully and a deep pit of despair opens once more: Do Vermax and your dragon feel that tearing, gnawing hole that plagues you? Does Vermax stir at night as you know Jacaerys does, unable to rest with the memories of his brother, gone?

It stings your eyes, to think they mourn Arrax just as you both mourn his rider. 

The thought seems to underscore the rift that has ruptured between you and Jacaerys - the twin embers of his eyes avoid yours as he stares down at the passing ocean below. You look ahead, ignoring the longing which hides somewhere in the depths of your heart. Of course I trust you, he’d said - I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt, or…worse. 

Your own words, then - cold and unforgiving and entirely foolish: If caring for me is your answer, then your misplaced affection is nothing more than a weakness.

Your heart sinks with burden, scolding yourself for destroying any small chance of personal connection. How easy it would be to place such blame upon your mother and father; how are you to embrace a tender touch, if all you’ve known is the harsh sting of neglect? How can you allow yourself to feel, when any other embrace has only left you stumbling through shadows, chasing the attention of those who will never give it? 

You look to the shoreline, as if it would give you the answer you wish to hear. It remains silent. 

Vermax is not far behind you when you redirect your dragon to the Dragonmont.

She is hungry; you thank the keepers for rations given, insisting you may feed her yourself. Soothing your palm along her scales, warm as coals, you’ve successfully busied yourself to quell the anxiety eating at the lining of your gut.

You sit, legs perched precariously off the chasmous pit of the mont, tossing your dragon bits of sheep, smirking as she catches them within her maw. 

The tremor of Vermax entering through the mouth of the cave jolts you from a hazy absence of thought - you rise, wiping your sweaty palms upon your riding trousers as you gather your gear to put away. Your dragon chitters, the immense heat from her nose nudging against your arm - distractedly, you press your forehead to her for a brief respite from the impending inevitability.

It isn’t until you see Jacaerys in your peripheral vision, until you feel the heat of Vermax across the way, that you straighten your posture and turn. 

Jacaerys has bent to pick up a discarded leather glove; Wordlessly, he places it gently in the basket of your riding gear the dragonkeeper holds - the garment must have fallen in your haste to leave. The unnecessary gesture sends a remorseful pang through you; with a nod of thanks, you clear your throat, eyes meeting his own from across the way. 

Vermax has begun to settle, stalking closer to your own dragon as their riders remain feet apart, watching each other with wary eyes. 

“Thank you. I must have dropped it.” you murmur, trying to steady your voice - he nods curtly, eyes still avoiding yours. It’s not more than a day, though the gap in casual familiarity between you makes it feel as though it’s been years once more.

The silence within the scent of dragonsmoke is near unbearable - dense and suffocating with unresolved emotions. It is keenly obvious to you that bringing up anything of substance will only lead to another argument; A poor fate, especially in front of the dragonkeepers - so you resort to tearing at the skin surrounding your nail beds, shifting upon unsteady feet. 

“It’s... quite a nice day,” you finally offer painfully, glancing out at the clear sky through the cave. “The weather’s agreeable.”

Jacaerys follows your gaze, turning his head momentarily - he nods, mercifully relinquishing his evident resentment for the sake of propriety. “Good for riding.” He observes. 

You nod, feeling awkward - though wind-dried, your hair still carries the smell of the sea, clothes damp from your dragon’s romp with the glassy waves. “Yes, very... good for riding. I believed it would rain, but it seems to be holding up.” 

“I believed so too,” Jacaerys agrees, clearing his throat. “But this was ideal. For the dragons. And... us, I suppose.”

An incredibly stunted conversation - as if regressed to your childish selves, to the awkward conversations you’d been guided to have once the news was announced of your betrothal; in the throes of your budding admiration and his growing aversion. 

Ten years after, yet you stand before him still: A girl, forever cursed with blood of emerald.

Trying to grasp at any remaining thread of conversation, you rub your arm. “The dragons appear to have enjoyed it.”

“Yes,” Jacaerys says, though his eyes remain distant. “They’re quite contented.”

“They seem relieved after such time apart,” you say, glancing at the two dragons who playfully nudge each other, grunting and growling low - scarcely like anything seen of dragons before. 

He replies after a moment, his tone thick, “I believe they missed each other’s company.” 

You do not find the words to respond. 

The dragons chitter and grumble, their shared heat warming the entire cavern; You can’t help but feel a sense of longing for the simplicity of their connection. 

“It’s quite remarkable.” you say absently, eyes zoned out somewhere toward the dragons. A pair of hazel eyes follow your gaze, a softening in his expression. After a moment of watching them, Jacaerys’ gaze drops. 

It is awfully quiet until, seemingly tired of his sister, Vermax has moved to nudge into Jace’s side, sending him tumbling slightly in surprise. 

An ache in your breast; a mirthful grin grows upon Jace’s expression, reaching to rub his dragon’s snout. 

You take this as a chance to exit, unable to watch him interact so kindly with Vermax any longer. “If you’ll excuse me.” You say, unbalanced on your feet. A flicker in his stare, as if he almost wishes to speak - but instead he simply nods. “Good day, Princess.” 

You bow lightly, stung by the reality of formality as you avoid his stare. “Good day, my Prince.” 

You look back once as you leave the mont - Jace’s back is to you, engrossed in tending to Vermax; movements precise, practiced - a low drawl of Valyrian from his lips, whispering into the deep cavern. 

HIS CHAMBER SMELLS OF CINNAMON.

It is dark, in the eve of night; a soft glow of the hearth echoing in the heat of the room - furs, sheets - tangled, soft and yet fractious against your thighs. There is a fuzzy haze that has been brought in by the slow roll of waves against a rocky shoreline in the distance; by the empty cups of wine shining in their brass against the flickering flames. 

It is quite warm with Jacaerys’ chest against your own. 

Your eyes find the ceiling, stone above a four-postered bedframe, cinnamon hinting in your mind, some odd reminder of forgotten halls and whispers beyond curtains. There is a pair of lips, trailing over your throat with a hungry enthusiasm; just so, you find yourself alight with similar desire. Your skin, slick with the sweat of exertion though your arms curl lazily around shoulders bare of clothing. 

You are blissfully aware of the pleasure that grows within your core - Jacaerys moves his hips in slow, languid thrusts, your hair matted with sweat and ecstasy to the pillow below; your legs pull him closer by the hip. His hand, large and imbued with thick veins, cradles your jaw - the other stabilizing himself as his teeth nip your throat. 

“You do not know how long I’ve loved you.” The words are murmured against your neck, muttered with a slurry of laziness - one that only comes in the heat of passion, some desire lacing and clouding your mind. 

That cannot be true, some part of you tries to remind you - but it matters not, because he’s picked up his strokes, your back arching as some vague crest begins to stir within you, pleasure snaking its way through your veins. You beg him not to stop with whimpers and lips upon the shell of his ear. 

There is some odd twinge in your thoughts. Craving, with some vague kind of confusion - you tug the head of curls closer against your chest; perhaps, in an effort to muffle the lies which spill forth from such deceiving, beautiful lips. 

His eyes are shut and yours roam his warm expanse, dropping with a rush of thrill to see where your bodies meet - with an experimental roll of your hips, you are rewarded with a deep satisfaction. His groan harmonizes your mewl, a cottoned, far-off hymn. 

Seeking, you pull him down, pressing plush lips with your own; a heat, spurring and yearning, festers in your chest. Jacaerys’ body is warm and wanting, tangled with yours as he gives himself to you over and over, rocking you into the mattress below. It is euphoric. 

…How did you get here? 

Nails drag along the expanse of his back, over ridges of muscles and skin warmed with blood of dragons; he lets out a short breath at such a sensation, head tipping back as his brows tangle in pleasure. 

Soon there is a gust of cool air. 

Startled by the sudden shift, you blink - to your right, there is a cold hall; doors to some vaguely detectable apartments ajar just across the way. Lips press to you once more. 

There are tapestries of old hanging above the entryway, though they are not the ones you remember near Jace’s quarters - a flash of hair behind a curtain. 

When the voice comes, it is not from Jacaerys’ lips - which have found themselves a home upon your breast, biting lightly and groaning against your skin - you are very near the apex of your pleasure; You tear your eyes away from the corridor, faintly aware the doors to Jace’s chambers should be closed - but when his hand soothes over your temple, you forget your very thoughts. 

“She doesn’t have a brain between her ears.” 

Your eyes snap open, but the voice is far away - your head turns; aside the bed is that very room from the recess of memory. A girl, eight-and-ten, watching shadows reflect upon walls, burdened with the weight of an apology not her own to give. The voice is not warm nor laced with anything but disdain, and you shut your eyes, aware of what’s next to come. “It’s like she opens her mouth and her mother speaks through it.”

You push Jacaerys away slightly, your emotions swirling in confusion and need. He pulls away instantly though you remain staring up at the ceiling of stone, unable to face him, to reveal the chinks within your armor. 

 “Do you trust me?” 

You ask it, though it is not what you mean to say. In an odd breath, you find that your mouth is equally frozen and running without your permission - sheets, curling whitecaps upon waves over your body. The ceiling swirls above you. 

“You’re my wife," He says. It does not feel right. 

You shake your head, but it is dizzy and you begin to really wonder how you got here, and why it seems as though the Jacaerys before you isn’t the one you know. 

Your fingers twitch in his hair, wondering when he’d trimmed his curls; "Gaomagon ao pāsagon nyke?” You ask with a quiet voice, your voice distant, floating. Do you trust me?

The silence nearly makes you flicker your gaze - but then, a sigh. “You know I do not understand when you take that tongue - only your dragon knows such ancient words.” 

No, certainly that is not right - but, he speaks again. “Our betrothal was a gift from the gods. A gift of loyalty, from His Grace.” 

Alarm rises within you; you struggle to sit up, sheets tangling around your legs. The room shifts, shadows of serpents and spiders dancing upon the walls, mocking your turmoil.

With fear, you meet the eyes of the man before you: It is no longer Jacaerys.

Blonde hair, green eyes. Your throat tightens, eyes flickering to the sigil hanging above the hearth; a roaring lion. 

You start with a gasp, eyes flying open. Eyes, panicked, flicker to your window; in the distance, the sun still shines. A shadow eclipsing the light momentarily in the horizon - a dragon, screeching as it crosses the refractions of the ocean. 

Relief floods you. Gods. 

Reaching aside your bed, gulping down the remnants of a stale cup of water, you let out a shaky breath - there is something you must do. 

You must do it now, before you lose such conviction. 

You summon your maids with a quick command, stripping in preparation to bathe, staring out upon the sea. Once again they appease you, as they always do; you ask them of their days, avoiding speaking of yourself nor the turmoil that brings such tired evidence below your eyes. 

They tend to your hair, your nails - you ask of their childhoods with a gentle melancholy, and when they lace up an elegant gown, pin up your hair, they answer you with kind voices and sympathetic eyes. 

IT TAKES MOST OF THE DAY TO FIND HIM. 

Afternoon meal has passed; you know Jacaerys prefers to train in the mornings, but you still make the foolish decision to visit the sparring yard first. There you find no prince but instead endure a short sword lesson under the tutelage of Ser Marbrand, who mercifully does not dare broach the subject of Jace’s late night visit to your chambers.

Jacaerys’ absence persists as you check his personal chambers - next, Joffrey and the younger boys’ rooms; you spend a few moments with them, soft smiles and quiet conversation about their toys, before nodding kindly to the nursemaids. 

Rhaena and Baela, puzzled by your inquiry amidst the clear tension between you and your nephew, shake their heads with pressed lips and quick glances to each other. 

It is not until a bit later that desperation grips you - Vermax is alone at the dragonmont, the Sept is cavernous as usual, the forge, the gatehouse, Aegon’s Garden - all, untenanted; the library echoes only the sparse coughs of household workers. 

You nearly give up, stalking back to your quarters with a melancholy affliction, lonelier than you’ve felt in weeks, arms crossed. It is only when you pass the council room on your journey to the beach - a last-ditch effort to find the prince, knowing he often retreats to the beach when he wishes to be alone - that you consider it. 

The presence of guards perks your interest; Discouraged but resigned to the futility of the day, you nod to them in greeting. When the guards open the chamber door, you expect to turn heel after being met with an empty room. 

You do not expect the arresting sight of Jacaerys, stood in thought, curls handing over his sharp expression. 

Sword and hilt abandoned atop the painted table, he seems to stare at some point upon the map; you take a few hesitant steps down the stair before he takes in your presence. "Princess," Jacaerys greets, his voice strained. 

You nod to him - having searched all day to no avail, you’re rendered rather stunned by his presence.  “My prince.” 

Feet carrying you unevenly, you find the point of his attention - the seat paramount of the stormlands: Storm’s End. You bite your lip at the wave of sorrow that washes over you, knowing you must push through the flare of anxiety, despite how you wish to turn tail. 

"I was hoping I’d find you.” You say gently, unwilling to admit the extent of your desperate search, the way your heart has begun to pound with a yearning to make amends. “You were not in the yards this afternoon. I trained with Ser Marbrand.” And then, an afterthought, “He is not as patient a teacher as you.” 

He nods, jaw clenching as he stares down at the table below. “I did not feel well.” He excuses, shifting upon his feet. It is a falsehood, yet neither of you dare to challenge it.

You clear your throat. “I hope you are faring better now.” 

Jacaerys nods once again, but he doesn't meet your gaze; a solemn stare down at the table. You take in his furrowed expression - Maybe I’m afraid of hurting you, you’d excused. He’d laughed at your words, voice so sure as he’d regripped the training sword. You won’t, he’d promised.  

The silence stretches between you, heavy. 

After a long pause, he finally speaks. "The other day," he begins, his voice tight with emotion, "you mentioned that all we ever do is raise our voices at each other." 

You swallow hard, the memory of your words stinging - how soft his skin looked as he looked upon the sunset - freckles kissed upon his nose by the doting sun - his hand in yours, escorting you over jagged rocks. A whisper in the wind: You will be a wonderful wife to whoever you marry. I’ll likely wish I were him for the rest of my life.

You’ve been a fool. 

"I did." You whisper.  

"It is true, is it not? Each time we converse, it seems to end in strife." He falls silent again, and a pang of melancholy churns within your belly. 

"We are both... under much pressure.” You start, looking to his hands, splayed over the stone, fingers tapping in a betrayal of the anxiety within his chest. Your tongue brushes over your bottom lip. 

“But…I do not wish for us to always be at odds." You add, tinged with a desperation to mend whatever oddship, whatever possibility you may have found within each other. He shakes his head, glancing sidelong at you. “Nor do I.” 

“Then…” You take a breath of your own before forging ahead, “you must stop seeing me as someone to be controlled.” 

His jaw tightens, eyes clouded with unspoken thoughts, but he lets you speak; he knows, just as you, that this conversation must be had. 

Despite the wild fluttering within your stomach, you press on. “I worry losing you, Jacaerys. Of losing all of us.” Your breath trembles, “But that does not grant you leave to belittle my actions in the name of protection. I do not wish to be coddled."

His mouth opens, then shuts; an acknowledgement, a promise to listen.

Just as well - it has become apparent that if you stop, you will let loose the emotion which brims in the corner of your vision. 

“I understand it was a poor choice to leave the council. But…” You shake your head, struggling to keep your composure, “He killed that boy, Jace. We.. was I supposed to say no to the Queen?” 

He stirs, swallowing down the words that nearly spill from his lips. Instead, he nods.

“I never intended to belittle your actions,” he says softly, his voice tight with sincerity. “I have been beset with anger and fear, with the Greens and…with my own uncertainties.” He hesitates, his gaze falling to the table as if searching for answers among the gleaming stone surface. “But that does not excuse my actions. I realize now that you deserve more than my misguided efforts.”

Misguided. 

The chamber is cavernous, its emptiness echoing with a chill of air; sunbeams pierce through the slatted windows, casting long, somber shadows that dance across the cold stone floor. The light feels harsh, as you look upon him.

Your heart twists, wishing nothing more than to grasp his face in your hands, smooth the furrow of his brows. 

You find yourself relieved that you and Jacaerys have managed to temper your dispositions, if only just. Your hands tremble slightly - you clasp them tightly in the folds of your gown, trying to still the quivering, before you reach out to touch his arm. 

At the reach he pulls away slightly, his eyes lifting to meet yours with a sorrowful, almost pleading expression. The change in his demeanor tugs painfully at your heart. “What is on your mind, Jacaerys?” you ask softly, leaning closer to catch his troubled gaze. He, dutifully letting you speak to him of your conniptions; yet you have not given him the time to speak his own. 

His gaze is much more genuine than you expect, large eyes framed by long, dark lashes. “Are you truly of the opinion that my actions are driven by nothing more than desire?” His voice breaks the heavy silence. “Is that all you believe me capable of?” 

You pause, the depth of his vulnerability catching you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“I... I was angry. Hurt.” You begin, heart clenching. His gaze drops, and you notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, a sign of his own weariness. “Jacaerys,” you begin, your voice gently coaxing him to look up - he does, with those large eyes. “I should not have said such things to you. But you must understand how your actions could suggest that I am merely something of... convenience for you.” 

He blinks, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “There are times I have treated you as an adversary, and then a playpiece.” he admits, his voice thick with regret, his fists clenching against the cold stone of the table. “I lament every moment of it.”

He inhales shakily, turning towards you with a pained expression. “I should not have come to your chambers that night,” he says, shaking his head as though trying to rid himself of the memory. “I should not have dishonored you in such a way. I cannot bear that you think me a man so incapable of such restraint.” 

Your heart races at his admission, the air thick with unspoken tension. “I said very foolish things to you yesterday. I was much too harsh. I know what-” you speak softly, your voice catching with emotion, “What holding affection for someone can mean in times like this. And… I admit, I am also just as much to blame for the lack of restraint-"

But he interrupts gently with a murmur of your name, shaking his head. “I could not blame you for the words exchanged after such a…long night. I merely wish for you to know that I see you my equal. And I beg forgiveness that I let my affections for you make it seem I would believe anything less.”

There is a soft rustling of the tapestry hanging on the wall; a flutter of your heart. 

Such familiar resistance twists within you, a sharp contrast to the gentle grace Jacaerys and his brothers embody - a grace quite absent in the memories of your own upbringing. His mother has indeed raised her sons well: strong-willed and astute, tempered with tenderness, with care. Such virtues woefully absent in your own brothers, woefully amiss within yourself on many occasions.

“Jace,” you murmur, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking. “I no longer harbor resentment for the strains in our relationship since my arrival at Dragonstone, even though I used such memories against you when I was angry.” You shake your head, your voice steadying as hunger, affection, pent-up stress slowly pools in your chest. “We have both erred. Yet I desire to be more than hurtful words, spoken in the heat of a moment.”

He nods; the tension between you softens with every breath between you. Some ancient shift, as if the gods blow air into your chests one and the same. A hymn - of the Crone and of the Maiden, written long before you and he.  

Jacaerys studies you with eyes no less than worshiping; you suspect you might regard him the same. 

His finely tailored doublet; rich fabric clinging to the contours of his form, accentuating the powerful lines of his shoulders and chest - you course your eyes past the light which weaves through the intricate embroidery. 

His hands, trickled tributaries of veins akin to the maps of the riverlands - knuckles rough, caressing your arm gently. You quite enjoy the soft dimple, accentuated by the sun’s attention, that slowly grows under the heat of your study. His cheeks, red.

Some radiant intensity within his expression; dark in contours, in the line of his brow, the curls against soft skin.

“I regret that my behavior has made you question my intentions.” He wettens his lips. You do the same. “I must make clear to you that my feelings for you are not misplaced, nor driven by mere impulse. Though…” He pauses with a gaze rather intense, a soft, sheepish grin escaping as he adjusts a curl at the nape of his neck, “I cannot deny that desire often has its own power over me when it comes to you.”

You believe him - and at the reminder of such times you’ve let the desire consume yourself, your cheeks flush. A new longing; deeper, more warm, like a long-awoken affection, rises within your chest as you eye him through your lashes. Some secret self-destructive streak, the very same you’ve seen hidden within Jacaerys’ gaze, flickers awake within you. 

Falling from your lips is a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering as you lay your hand gently upon his shoulder. You’re not sure why the ancient tongue slips from your lips - perhaps to dispel the echoes of your unsettling dream, or to remind him of the shared flame that burns within you both. “Gaomagon ao pāsagon nyke?” Your voice trembles; vulnerability and yearning alike. 

Do you trust me? 

Shoulders turning, he regards you with a craving, some deep warmth that heats your stomach. A palm, leaving the table to brush a stray hair from your gaze. You find his jaw with a palm of your own - gentle, tentative. 

He does not recoil from your touch as before. Instead he draws nearer, as the tides are pulled by the moon, pressing his body against yours; effectively pinning you against the painted table. 

The sudden contact takes your breath away, a sharp exhale through your lips as the heat between you intensifies. His breath mingles with yours in the stillness, a shared warmth, a prayer intended for no gods but those you create within each other. Your hands grasp his biceps, feeling the taut strength beneath his finely tailored clothing. 

His expression is firm, certain. “Sodjisto. Nyke pāsagon ao lēda mirre bona iksan.” His voice cuts through the quiet chamber; I trust you with all that I am. 

The sincerity in his eyes is a flame that mollifies the waxen worry of uncertainty; his lips hover near yours, breaths entangled in the lazed still of afternoon. A warm memory; a murmured whisper to your heated lips in the heat of your bedroom nights ago - I crave you. To have, as a husband may have his wife. 

Beams of light pierce the room behind him, a halo of divine grace backlit over his curls; A fleeting gift from the Father himself.

You might have fallen to your knees in prayer, if his body did not so tenderly cage you.

His hands grip your waist with a tentative worry, as if the echoing of your harsh words replay within the concern of his mind. Do not give in to desire, he must be schooling himself - a foolish notion, when all you possess is such. And what is devotion, if not desire? 

Slowly, you draw him closer until you are pressed firmly against him. 

“Se…” You swallow, heart alight with burning eagerness, “Kessa ao vūjigon nyke? sir?” His brows lift slightly, a groan concealed with an exhale; his eyes rove over your figure below his stare. And… would you kiss me? Now? 

The table beneath you shifts as he leans in, his lips brushing yours with a tentative lightness, as if he holds back. “Lo issa skoros ao jaelagon.” He whispers against your lips, a heat in your chest; If that is what you wish. 

His tongue traces his lower lip before he speaks again, “Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot deny ao mirros.” He promises - a shiver down your spine. I would not dare deny you anything. 

You pull him by nape of neck, relishing in the short breath you both seem to take against each other’s lips. It is slow, soft before your lips find his. 

The echo of reticence in the chamber when his lips press to yours is rather thrilling; here, in such a public space - a foolish decision, one that is done out of nothing but pure desperation, unbridled emotion. His lips are just as feverish as your own when he finds you; you are pressed once more against the table behind you. 

His hands, no longer hesitant, roam your body with a possessive urgency - drawing you into his depths. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the sensation of his tongue against your lower lip drawing a sigh of both pleasure and relief. 

Spurred by your soft, breathy sound, Jacaerys shifts, pressing you further upon the painted table, the cool stone upon the fabric of your back. 

Your lips glide against his with a tantalizing ease, tongue brushing his own. A fiery touch roams over your shoulders, down your sides, grasping your hips with a sense of urgency; tender, insistent.

“Jace,” you breathe, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and emotion, your tongue dancing between the common and high Valyrian, ”Nyke zālagon syt ao.” I burn for you. He responds with a growl, his hands sliding down to your hips.

The painted table creaks beneath you as he presses you down, his body arching over yours with protectiveness, desire. Fingers upon your hips; against your dress, lifting you just so - tremors of arousal at his lithe body pressing flush against your own. Pushing, coaxing you upon the very table you’ve held council for the past moons. 

A surge within you - his mouth moves to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, intent kisses that make you gasp. “We should not be here,” he murmurs, words burning into your skin between kisses; though his actions betray his words, one palm sliding to the curve of your thigh as it hooks around his own lithe waist.

Fingertips dancing hungrily upon the crest of your ass, you release a short mewl that nearly has his hips buck into your own. A rush of pleasure - you shiver at the boldness of such a touch, spine bending deliciously to press your chest against his own.  

“No,” You agree, breath ragged, “Indeed, this may well be one of our gravest decisions.” 

He hums, equally unperturbed by any semblance of decorum. You tilt your head back, giving him more access to the column of your throat; he takes full advantage, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your trembling skin - aware of the cloaked guards just outside the heavy doors, it becomes obvious how reckless you’ve become under the power of Jacaerys’ affection. Two flames, twinned and flickering, lost in each other.

“I cannot resist you,” He nearly groans into your skin, eyes clenching as if to ward off any barrage of less than suitable visions. “Everything you are.” 

The painted table creaks beneath you when he presses himself firmly against you, arousal growing beneath his breeches - yet you are beyond caring for the noise, too consumed by the rumbling of his chest, his grasp upon your jaw. 

Thumb pressing your cheek, fingers splayed below your ear; the hunger in his eyes, laced with a gentleness as he turns your face with an adoring gaze, taking in your flushed cheeks, your lips slick with his saliva and your own. 

“Iksā ao umbagon isse ñuha bartos. Gevie.” His eyes watch you - you are stuck in my head. Beautiful. Shivers over your body as you pull him back to you, heart pounding within your chest. 

The strong bridge of his nose slides against your own as he finds your lips once more; nails clawing desperately to pull him further atop you, you drink his low groan in, sighing into his own mouth. 

Yet, a sudden noise through the quiet of the chambers shatters the fervor of the moment. 

An ominous creak of the heavy door, sending a visceral jolt through both of you; eyes snapping open, time seems to stretch. 

Fear of being discovered crystallizes instantly - a panicked lurch, forehead knocking to his. Jace, wincing and equally startled, scrambling to disentangle himself from you. 

The door opens. 

Jacaerys, in a swift, instinctive motion, tugs at the skirts of your dress, desperately seeking to shield your modesty. 

The figure in the doorway makes your heart stop. 

Daemon. 

Your eyes, wide - cheeks, flushed; your uncle, staring inscrutably at your disheveled forms.  

You slide off the table with a graceless drop, desperately attempting to compose yourself, the racing in your chest, the arousal that drips between your thighs. 

Jacaerys stands beside you, his eyes avoiding both you and Daemon, his posture rigid, cheeks redder than an apple. 

Daemon breaks the heavy silence with a dry, almost casual tone. “I had intended to seek you both in your chambers,” he begins, his gaze flicking over the disheveled state of you and Jacaerys. “but it appears that is no longer necessary.” 

You do not dare utter a word; never mind that you’d not be able to speak if you so wished - your throat has become a desert of sand. 

Daemon pauses, allowing his words to settle before adding, “The queen has summoned you to her chambers. A matter of importance awaits.”

THERE IS A TRAIL OF INCENSE THAT LAZES IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM. 

Its smell is wonderful, while thick - low light of candle, your eyes strain to pick up the small stream of smoke from your position, perched rather direly on the edge of the upholstery. Jacaerys shares the seat, though he has precariously placed himself on the complete opposite end, his profile once again sacrificed to the sole window’s bright glare of sunbeam. 

The room, richly adorned with tapestries and elegant furnishings, seems to close in on you; steadfastly ignoring both the lingering arousal that had pooled between your thighs not minutes ago and the man beside you that coaxed it, you feign interest in a book placed before you on the table. 

Daemon’s gaze is inscrutable, though a faint smirk lingers at the corners of his lips, serving to churn your stomach as you smile politely - weakly - at the queen. 

With a calm that contrasts sharply, Queen Rhaenyra offers a gracious nod of acknowledgement, sat across from you in an identical loveseat. “I must apologize for summoning you here rather than to the council.”

You shake your head, not trusting your voice - it seems Jacaerys is even less eager to respond. Daemon finds the grace to respond for you, unbothered to conceal a smirk. “Just as well, my queen. The council chambers were otherwise occupied at this hour.” 

His words, though spoken softly, are laced with an implicit understanding that sends a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks; Jacaerys shifts uncomfortably in his seat, though neither of you dare glance to each other.

 If she notices, the queen does not remark on the burning of your face. 

“I believed it best we address this matter before it reaches the ears of the others.” She folds her hands; you clench yours, resisting the urge to pick at aching nail beds. Your half-sister delivers the message the way maesters often rip off bandages: quick, without hesitation. “In light of the message from Aegon and the implications of your recent pledge to my cause, it has been decided that a reinstatement of the betrothal between Jacaerys and you is both prudent and necessary.” 

Seven heavens. 

A wave; shock, disbelief, relief. You are doused with an unbelievable heat upon your cheeks. 

Jacaerys and you exchange a glance, heart racing as you attempt to process her words. Have you truly stumbled your way, so recklessly, into such luck? Jace’s eyes mimic the same bewilderment as you, and neither of you risk it by speaking. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze is steady, “Such a pairing will serve to display a union of tradition and power to both our allies and the enemy. It shall similarly reinforce the strength of our position, and mitigate any further doubts regarding your allegiance.”

Jacaerys, cheeks visibly crimson, shifts in his seat, his eyes fixed on the ornate rug beneath him; knuckles grip the edge of the sofa as he hides some small breath of emotion. 

You find yourself pressing a tight-lipped smile towards the Queen, steadfastly ignoring the hawkish smirk on her husband’s face beside her. You let out not even a breath, hoping to the seven that this is not another dream.  

Her eyes scrutinize your silent reaction, laced with a concealed intrigue that sets you in mortification. 

“I would have expected you to show more protestation.” 

Jace finds himself before you do, mercifully. “No—” he stammers, his face a mix of relief and barely restrained fluster. “It’s... it’s a sound strategy. I see the...necessity.”

You notice the blush creeping up his cheeks, flush, pretty. You wish to press your lips upon the heated skin. 

You draw a steadying breath, casting such unseemly thoughts out of your mind. “I believe it a sound decision.” you say, your voice firm. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze is steady, “I know this coupling might not feel ideal,” she begins - you ignore Daemon’s stare once more, the smirk that refuses to leave his lips. “-but you have both spent the better part of your lives preparing to serve the realm–together.” She nods,  “It is a prudent match. You two are more alike than either of you would care to admit.”

Daemon does not hide the huff of amusement at the queen’s words; you glance at him sharply, but hold your tongue. 

“Th-thank you, my queen.” You nod, genuinely moved by such high praise, your mind still reeling. The incense is thick in your nostrils. Her words carry the weight of expectation, of hope; you find yourself drawing a deep breath. 

“There is more,” She adds, “But I think it best to discuss at council.” You can only spare a weary glance to Jacaerys, heart skipping a beat as you look into his eyes - the eyes that will one day be of your valzȳrys. Husband.

series masterlist. part four. taglist (strikethrough i cant tag): @useralba @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @chloe-petrichors @jottositto @uhnanix @knight-of-flowerss @lenadoerrer @saccharineseas @greenvita @honk4emoboyz @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @darylspersonalwhore @taestrwbrry @withjinkoo @realporcelainkat @burningwitchobject @meowmeowmau @bigolidioot @eleana-aerrin @miraakswhore @mckennah123feedback highly appreciated.

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Never Love An Anchor

by XylstGlitch

Tommy hates the cities and towns. Not because the people of such places had wronged him in any way, no. Yet they were all so boring and dull.

Every day, the same few guards walked down his windowsill, with the same polished shiny armor, with the same razor-sharp spears, with the same pace and speed, never sparing a glance at the child above. Not that Tommy wanted to talk with those stone-faced men anyway, nor was he allowed to.

It wasn’t his fault all of the townspeople never even dared to trespass nearby either. Who would want to wander around the mayor’s mansion, with the horrid dangers of being arrested?

In the end, he was just a small sparrow trapped inside a glided golden birdcage, the false skin of a phoenix draped onto his ratty dull feathers as a convincing mirage. That didn’t mean no one didn’t try to dye his feathers into more flashy colors to make that mirage real.

(Or, Tommy has had enough of his suffocating life, so he runs.)

Words: 2630, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Xylias’s TWB MCC 2023 Fics

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)

Additional Tags: Secrets, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson is TommyInnit's Parent (Video Blogging RPF), Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), HAHAHHAHAHHAH. im not sorry., Misunderstandings, Child Neglect, Neglected TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), phil is not getting the parent of the year award, but he kinda has an alibi tho :(, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), The Writer's Block Minecraft Championships 2023 (Video Blogging RPF), The Writer's Block MCC Lime Llamas, TWB MCC Event, TWB MCC Event Bingo But Fic, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirate Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Child Abuse, Runaway TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Title from a The Crane Wives Song, Fluff and Humor

[lilisette]

joining the thaemine brainrot train, have some thaemine headcanons and a hades and persephone au

and since this au draws inspo from the hades and persephone myth, there will be dubcon and kidnapping so beware, also suggestive themes but nothing explicit

thaemine in general never shows interest in things; ans the only time he feels truly alive is in the midst of battle, the urge to best his opponent and conquer them surging through his veins

its why he agreed to be kazeros' legion commander in the first place, to fight, to chase that high

honestly he would fight kazeros if given the chance, just to see what the archdemon is made of

but hes not stupid so he just lets it be. for now.

being the strongest out of all commanders can be a boring thing, no one dares oppose him, no one dares lay a hand on him, and being tasked to find the arks of all things, its safe to say hes bored

nothing held in interest and there was nothing to do, so when he meets mc the first time in feiton and actually feels something other than boredom, hes instantly intrigued

perhaps it was the way mc looked at him; instead of fear or contempt, mc was curious, eyeing him up and down before entering a battle stance

the encounter has left him wanting; wanting to understand what on arkesia was he feeling and why

said want quickly turned into a need, then into an obsession, and being obsessed over by a legion commander was never, ever a good thing

he watched mc from afar via his proxy, watches them fight his minions in the countless chaos gates that opened

something about the way mc moved ignited a fire in him, to conquer

not in the way he used to conquer his opponents no, but something else and he doesnt know what exactly and its driving him insane

until he sees mc get cut by his minion's sword, tearing up and wincing as they healed their wound, then he realizes that oh. oh.

he wants to see them in pain, crying, to push their limits and see how far he could go until mc looks at him in fear, wants to break their determination and make them submit to him

this obsession was kept secret and no one knows that hes following mc's move closely

kharmine and brelshaza may have an inkling of it since theyre observant but dont mention anything

actually if kharmine knew he would deliberately offer to kidnap mc for him as part of his schemes but we are not here to talk about that now

anyway. south vern.

by then brelshaza and kharmine wouldve noticed his interest, brel would watch mc closer to see whats so interesting about this ark inheritor while kharmine would warn mc about thaemine before letting them proceed

while the sidereals and everyone else was distracted by the opening of countless of chaos gates, thaemine disappeared suddenly

only to appear near mc and chaining everyone within range of him down

“you.” he would say, towering over mc and watching them struggle against the binds

mc still isnt afraid even when he drags a pointed finger down their cheek, tilting their face up towards him, if anything they are curious as to what would happen next and that drives him mad

with one smooth motion, he lifts mc and slings them over his shoulder, ignoring the shock gasps and cries to put them down

kidnapping mc to his realm and keeping them there to see how far he could go with mc

a hades and persephone au basically but lost ark and uh. yeah. they fuck a lot but thats for another post 🤣

[rexxdjarin]

ooo what about “im yours, completely,utterly yours” for boba fett😌🧐

S I N D A Y I N B O X M E M E

I love boba so much it’s not even funny. Maybe it’s bc we’ve gotten the newest content for him but like Tem Boba I love him so fucking bad I’m 😍😮‍💨😩🤤

“I’m yours, completely, utterly yours.”

“Boba…promise me. Please.” You ask him, sitting on his throne and looking around the room at the hundreds of beautiful women, of all different species at his disposal. For his choosing. Whatever or whoever he could possibly want. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that could be you. That that is you.

He looked down at you with an amused smirk from where he stood between your open thighs, his gloved fingertips easing up the exposed skin. The contact of cold leather gloves on your warm skin had you more on edge than you’d been in a long time. You could use a reminder of just how much the most powerful man on Tatooine needs you.

“Princess…who else…” He began to ask, but stopped as he saw you turn away from him in self-conscious annoyance. He could see right through you. With or without the helmet. He knew what you felt before you even knew yourself usually. His eyes shifted to the crowd enjoying his palace’s offerings and he understood. You didn’t want anyone else around when you were feeling unsure of yourself. You wanted him just for you. And most times, because of this new role he’d taken on for himself, he couldn’t do that.

But today was just a party and he could command anyone there to do whatever he wanted. Except probably Fennec, but she knew better than to test him when it came to men’s needs.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking up at him scowling as the gears whirled in his head to formulate some kind of plan or command. You couldn’t tell which. The gorgeous emerald dress you’d chosen to match his armor was heavier than you wanted to wear in this heat and although you were feeling a little neglected lately, you couldn’t deny the fire brewing in your belly for him now.

Before you could open your mouth to snap at him to pay attention, he scooped you up in his arms and spun around to take his place on his stone throne. You were sprawled in his lap suggestively, his hand inching up your thigh as he removed the vibro blade he knew you kept strapped to the garters you always wore.

A wicked grin drew across his face and he brushed your panties aside, his gloved fingertips connecting with your clit. Your eyes went wide as you realized what he was doing to you while no one was paying attention. He circled the bud softly, moving his head to let you rest yours in the crook of his neck.

“Boba…f-fuck…I’m..too loud for this.” You giggled, gasping as he increased the speed of the circles he was tracing along the bundle of nerves.

“Good. I want them to hear you. What I’m willing to be seen doing with you, my Princess. That way they’ll know I’m yours, completely, utterly, yours.” He chuckled darkly into your ear, his fingers slipping down through your lips and teasing the little hole.

“Yes…Boba…I’m yours. This little cunt is all yours.” You ramble as he works you up torturously, the wet sounds almost certainly loud enough to be noticed if someone walks too close.

“I know it is. Only I get you this slick. You’re my wet little slut, you know that? I’d never do this with anyone else but you. It’s only you. Gotta prepare you properly to take my cock, right? So I can watch you look so pretty as I make you feel good.” He’s whispering in your ear, his fingers plunging into you and curving against the front wall so hard you could cry from how good it feels. How much he could spur you on with just his words. How fucking weak he makes you.

“All these people here and I only care about you. This pretty fucking face and this perfect little pussy. Everything I have left of me is yours. I owe who I am now to you. Don’t ever forget that, mesh’la.”

You whimper his name in his ear, clinging to him while he draws out orgasm after orgasm from you on his throne where everyone can see but no one looks. He gives you every little pleasure he can while he’s busy. He’s never given anyone anything without guaranteeing something in return. No one except you. And that’s how you know he loves you most.