#it could also just be comfortable for them too who knows but i like this idea

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - your ideal type vs. your future spouse

hi dear reader! i thought of an idea where i could look into how you guys' ideal types compare to your future lovers. note that this is a general reading, so not everything will resonate with everyone! breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and let the rest flow. 𓆩♡𓆪

⋆˚࿔ pile 1 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

your ideal type

in your romantic partners, you're looking for a best friend.

someone you can cheerfully celebrate the highs in your life with. a person who will be able to bring you a sense of joy and happiness in life.

it's likely you want someone who's like your good luck charm. they brighten up your life in the most pleasant ways, and are able to provide you with the feeling of positivity and bliss.

you know when these special people enter your life, and all of a sudden everything becomes more enjoyable. because of their presence in your life, things are fun again.

you want someone who will be a source of inspiration, and support for you. a person who can uplift and motivate you in the most rewarding manner.

i keep getting this feeling, you'd want your person to be someone who has this profound impact, where just talking to them can ease your mind and light up your day.

you'd want to have a lover whose voice brings you comfort, whose encouraging words become your source of confidence, whose presence gives you the feeling of enjoying to be alive.

i can sense you seeking to find this comfortable feeling of home in your lovers. someone whose warmth can make you feel safe, and secure.

i believe you're a person who's very introspective, someone who's constantly on this journey of self-discovery.

therefore you'd like a partner who will be supportive, and accompany you on that journey; someone who will be your companion in life, and help you understand yourself better.

you'd like an individual who will help you heal, grow, discover and proudly embrace your best, most confident self. someone whose positive energy is contagious and helps you thrive.

you want your lover to be reliable and resilient. someone you can lean on with no second thoughts. who will be there for you no matter what. a person who will take you with everything that you come with, and still remain loyal and devoted to you.

a person who, although they're passionate, knows how to control their temper, won't be discouraged by tough times, and remain committed and persevering, regardless of struggles you might go through together. you want your lover to be a like a rock in your life.

you do want someone who is fiery, powerful, charismatic, self-assured, knows what they want. you're likely to be drawn to people who have fire energy; a strong presence. people who are aware of their worth, and whose attendance can't be missed once they step into a room. but you don't want your partner to be too full of themselves, overbearing, or too intense.

you want them to be mature, trustworthy and responsible. a person you can build a stable, comfortable and secure, but also playful and joyous relationship with.

your future spouse

so, one aspect which you'll probably like to hear; your fs is likely to be quite mature, possibly older than you in age.

they're pretty powerful, disciplined and steady. the first impression they have on people, is likely to be quite strong.

they aren't a person who's overly emotional at first glance, and moreso carry themselves in an emotionally reserved and controlled manner.

your fs for sure has strong leadership qualities to them. they're good at commanding attention and demanding respect from the people around them. it's the type of energy that makes everyone in the room shut up, once they speak up. to note, they could also be quite stubborn, and opinionated at times.

another significant aspect though, is that they're immensely supportive and generous towards their loved ones.

this is a person who's likely to have a heart that is much more compassionate than what meets the eye. someone who, although they aren't always immensely expressive when it comes to their feelings, has a true heart for people in need.

your future lover is someone who's giving and generous. i can see their love languages leaning towards the acts of service and giving gifts side.

this person has a strong sense of justice, they're likely to be very fairminded. they don't like disharmony, and will be there to help out the underdog if they feel like they're being treated in an unjust manner.

i can see this person surprising people with how nice they can actually be, because they usually seem so serious, more stern and intimidating on the outside.

this is also a person, who values harmony and stability in their relationships, especially in their family-life. a person who fosters an atmosphere, that's secure and comfortable. i can sense them possibly being closely tied to their families.

if you get to know this person in a deeper manner, you'll take note of how they exude warmth, and a vibe that's very inviting and comforting, when they're around the people they love. someone vibrant who can easily be the center of attention.

it's kinda giving the family's favorite son (note; their energy is quite masculine) who everyone runs to greet, once they enter the room. a popular, charming and well-liked person whose energy can light the atmosphere up in a lively manner.

what's interesting, is that i did get the four of wands for both your ideal type, and your future spouse.

so, it's highly likely for them to be able to fulfill this wish you have, of finding a person who not only makes you feel comfortable and at ease, but also genuinely happy. like you've finally arrived at home once you're in their arms.

⋆˚࿔ pile 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

your ideal type

you're giving me wise, mindful and cautious energy. it does seem like you are someone who prefers testing the waters before jumping into relationships.

you're likely to collect information on people first, before fully giving in.. as in getting to know them thoroughly. by doing that, you're trying to get a good understanding of their character, and whether you can see them being a valuable addition to your life.

there's this observant energy to you, where you can take note of the smallest details in people. you probably like it when others are also able to compliment you on the small things not everyone would notice, like e.g. the perfume you're wearing that day.

you value mental compatibility. you want a person who's smart, fun, quick-witted, clever. someone you can have interesting, thought-provoking and intriguing conversations with. discussions that range from complex and profound ones that make you reflect, to playful ones that make you laugh.

you like honesty, and transparency. you don't want someone who will beat around the bush, walk on eggshells, or give you any mixed and confusing signals. you desire a trustworthy person who can be straightforward, and open with you.

a big focus here, is on expansion and transformation.

you'd like a person who will help you explore, as well as expand. especially mind-wise, by talking about subjects that make you introspect.

i don't think you mind your lover being very different to you, whether that's culturally, ethnically, language-wise or opinion-wise. on the contrary, you seem to believe that views, beliefs or mindsets that are different to yours to a degree, can have significant impact on your life, and help you evolve, which is why you're likely to welcome it.

there just needs to be compatibility when it comes to the path you're aiming to go down in the future. in your eyes, there does need to be a certain alignment in values, objectives and intentions, in order for the connection to work out.

you want a partner whose existence, rather than becoming a presence that distracts you from the important things in life, will help you be more self-aware.

you want someone who can help you transform and thrive into your best self. a presence that finally makes things seem clearer, and helps you feel whole, happy, warm and complete.

it's this feeling of “being with this person feels right. this is who i'm supposed to be with. their presence is healthy for me and my journey. instead of sidetracking me from my life-path, this is a person who will be supportive of me, and willingly hold my hand while i'm trying to heal from the past and understand what's right for my own life.”

again, i don't see you rushing into your relationships.

you're someone who looks at healthy connections developing in a slow pace, but steadily.

you want a person who will be patient, conscious and consistent in the effort they invest into the maintaining the security of the relationship, and taking things step by step.

some of you might've gone through some negative experiences in regards to relationships; not just romantic ones, but human connections in general. this might've caused you to become more wary and careful about how to proceed.

at this point, you've become adamant on making sure you don't let anyone into your life, who will bring any unwanted and unwelcomed negativity, that only drags you down.

a lot of focus on true happiness and fulfillment here too. you desire a person who can enrich and brighten your life, and keep your spirits high. someone who brings you a sense of joy.

you want to make sure you're with someone mature, righteous and self-aware, who makes healthy choices in life, is sure of what they want, and doesn't play games.

what it boils down to, is you liking someone who takes the relationship as seriously as you do.

this pile is giving scorpio/virgo/gemini/mercury energy

your future spouse

so first of all, i can see your future spouse being air-dominant. they're definitely big thinkers; someone who mostly functions with their mind, and bases a lot of their decisions on logic and rationality, instead of their emotions.

this is a person who's likely to match your desire for intellectual stimulation. they're funny and clever, very witty. likely to usually be quite blunt, and at times a little playfully snarky in the way they express themselves.

this pile definitely gave me the biggest “bickering” vibes. i feel like both you and your fs, are people who showcase their affection by teasing and provoking. it's giving this couple who bickers over trivial and little things. to others it might look like you're arguing all the time, but for you, it's the way you express fondness towards each other.

this person has such a continuously running and active mind, that they can be prone to overthinking and at times, diving into some problems way too deeply.

this is someone who's quite charismatic and attractive, i feel like they're physically good-looking. luscious hair, nice skin. perhaps more tan. great and blinding smile. good figure as well, they might be athletic, or at least look that way.

this person seems to have been through some impactful break-ups or separations before, which have messed their confidence up to a degree and transformed them. there were certain things they needed to let go of, and move on from.

one insight i keep getting, is your fs being someone who's much more dedicated, devoted and loyal to their romantic partners, than one would think at first impression.

i kept getting so many swords, but i couldn't shake this feeling there's a different side to them deep down. it just moreso seems buried down right now; i don't see it having many opportunities to come out, since i believe they're on more of an independent streak right now. and focused on healing before getting into another commitment.

so when i asked if they're out for longterm and committed relationships, i got the king of pentacles. this card represents a masculine and solid person who's stable, reliable, patient, faithful. they might not be the most extravagant and lovey dovey affectionate partner out there, but their devotion lies deep.

it's quite likely for their venus to be in an earth sign, perhaps taurus, or fall into the seventh house.

they do have a strong sense of responsibility, and are more self-aware than one would imagine. this person might come off differently, than they actually are deep inside. many people might misjudge or misunderstand them.

the type of person who everyone would look at as a player, when they're not. they might have a fire rising, actually. their energy kinda reminds me of jimin from bts, who's a libra sun and mercury, gemini moon, and sagittarius rising.

your fs isn't someone who just recklessly acts on a whim with no consideration for others and blindly lives according to their selfish instincts; but a person who does reflect about the impact their actions have on people, and can easily feel guilty for saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

again, there is something which gives them this harsh honesty in their communication. it's likely they aren't good at sugarcoating or attuning their words to anyone's emotions, so they might unintentionally rub some people wrong at times.

they're probably not very emotional themselves, so they could have trouble empathising with overly emotional individuals.

they mostly try to rationalize their feelings, because it can just.. get too overwhelming. your fs can have issues truly understanding what's going on inside of them.

they also give me the vibe of someone who might have the tendency to care a little too much about what people think, and get overly attached to people's opinions of them, though they probably wouldn't really like admitting this.

because of this, they're likely to moreso deal with their inner insecurities on their own, and putting on a “happier” facade than what actually goes on inside.

your future lover definitely seems like a person who's out for marriage. it's likely that it's one of their main objectives when it comes to their love life. finally finding a person they can make that everlasting promise to, and swear their eternal love to.

both, your fs and you, seem to be on journeys of healing past wounds right now. you have the potential to offer each other a lot of understanding and acceptance, since you do seem to share certain similarities, which can make for a deep bond.

just a gentle encouragement for you to not lose sight of your track and keep standing strong and tall, on your own two feet.

i feel that the universe is lying out the path for you two to meet, when divine timing deems you as ready.

note for this pile: i literally had a dream the night after reading about a guy who matches the energy i got here so so well, they were very charming and craaazy handsome.. they were speaking on the phone about something while laughing and sitting on a couch lol this is for sure someone talkative

⋆˚࿔ pile 3 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

your ideal type

worthy to note that this pile immediately, even before reading, gave me water energy.

i also kept feeling like i have my head in the clouds and am in a daze, i couldn't concentrate and focus as well while reading. a lot of you might have strong water placements, or significant neptune aspects. perhaps neptune in the first house?

i also got a lot of pentacles here, so you might feel yourself being drawn to earth placements. (thought of jay from enhypen who's a taurus stellium with a taurus venus and cancer moon, could see his energy matching you guys well)

anyhow, what you're looking for, is a partner who's fully focused on only you. someone who's gonna make you their world.. spoil you with thoughtful gifts, shower you with attention, turn you into the center of their universe.

you might even enjoy some possessiveness, and like the thought of your lover becoming jealous and territorial of you. you like the type of person who protectively keeps you at their side at all times, e.g. doesn't let go of your hand in public. you desire this feeling of security; like you're in the safest hands.

you want someone who will help you realize your true worth. a person who will strengthen your self-esteem.

you know this thing when you're dating someone, and there's this feeling of.. “wow, how does this person love me so much? guess i really must be something special”

you want someone to love you in such wonderful and profound ways, that it makes you become more aware of your value. someone whose perspective on you, makes you adjust yours as well. someone who looks at you as beautiful, which makes you feel beautiful.

you like people who are willing to fight for you. someone who's courageous, and not afraid of arguing or getting their hands dirty for you. you desire a lover who will place themselves in front of you in order to protect you fiercely. it is kinda giving this k-drama boyfriend who beats up other men once someone looks into the direction of their girl, lmao.

you're likely to enjoy the thought of having an older and more mature partner. perhaps someone taller than you in height, and broader than you in their build as well.

you want someone emotionally intelligent, who's empathetic. a person who's a calming and gentle listener. a lover who's more in control of their emotions and can therefore be a reliable figure in your life, that you can comfortably lean on.

you're a person who enjoys daydreaming, idealizing, fantasizing. it's likely you've already pictured and imagined what you'd want your perfect partner to be like several times and enjoy dreaming of your romantic 🥰✨ love story.

another insight i got, is that you're probably someone who enjoys the idea of taking pictures of your lovers, or getting your picture taken. making precious memories, taking these cute “pov” boyfriend/girlfriend material photos of each other, and both of you making it your lockscreen. sweet little signs of affection like that are likely to melt your heart.

you probably enjoy the thought of walking through the streets of beautiful and idyllic places together, maybe paris or tokyo with all the cherry blossoms, and feeling like you're on cloud nine together with your lover. i got reminded of how hyunjin and felix from skz used to walk around paris together with their cameras in their hands, and take pretty pictures of each other, like this.

you likely just love gently descending into this dream, of how lovely it could be if only you could spend enjoyable days like this together with your prince or princess charming.

the current transit of venus in pisces is definitely heightening this pile's energy

one thing i will say though, is that i do believe you wouldn't want your partner to completely sacrifice and drop everything for you. you'd like to have a lover who's good at juggling multiple priorities. someone who has good time management skills, and knows how to take care of several different areas of their lives. though of course, you'd like to be a big priority, and have them all to yourself once you're able to with them. you desire an endlessly devoted person, who will absolutely reserve a special time of the day for you two only.

i can see you liking your lover's love language to be physical touch, giving gifts and quality time. you probably love the idea of getting these dazzling and fancy gifts, like couple rings.

your future spouse

this person is very well put-together. they definitely carry themselves in quite a self-satisfied manner. likely to even give off a slightly arrogant vibe to people. a little bit like a person who sees themselves as very important and special.

your future lover is likely to be someone who's pretty good at handling heartbreaks. they have a lot of inner strength and resilience. contrary to what it might seem like, i don't think this person has always had the perfect and flawless life full of sunshine and rainbows; they've just developed thick skin over time. they're quite immune to pain now, because they've been able to grow and transform from their heartache.

people on the outside are likely to see them as someone who always has their shit together, and is very blessed. but again, that's just because your fs is good at dealing with their problems in a graceful manner. they aren't the type to make their inner struggles very obvious.

they also seem like a person who's pretty perfectionistic, which is a quiet but heavy burden they might carry on their back a lot.

feeling this constant need to display themselves in the best light only, not being sure if they can ever live up to anyone's expectations. they're likely to be quite hard on themselves.

the type of person to obsessively check every picture that was taken of them, out of worry they came out looking bad.

they are giving me “golden child” energy. i keep thinking of family somehow. they might feel a lot of pressure from their families, or their closer environment, to be perfect.

however, they also do give me slightly spoiled energy here. they might've grown up in a very protected environment, and have therefore been more shielded from certain “real world” problems the “normal” person has to deal with.

they could either come from a privileged family, be in a privileged position, perhaps through fame or wealth, or have grown up with overly protective and smothering parents. some of them could also just be spoiled only children.

this is likely to have led to them being rather inexperienced in some areas in life. i don't seem them as very narrow-minded though, on the contrary; they do seem curious and interested, as well as open and eager to exploring new things.

this is likely to be a person who isn't from your typical circle. there's a high likelihood for them to be a foreigner. you could either meet them online, like a dating app or social media, or while you're on a trip overseas of some sort.

very central theme for you two; being immensely interested in getting to know each other, considering you're so different.

it's this thing when you meet someone from a completely different background or with a very different lifestyle to yours, and naturally get curious about a variety of different things.

it can get quite fascinating, i can especially see your fs getting excited to hear about your everyday-stories. there is a childlike innocence to them. like this cute and youthful glow in their eyes when they're listening to something that intrigues them.

they're someone who's quite excitable and energetic, especially when they get to do fun and adventurous activities.

very likely for this person to have strong fire placements. i'm getting a sagittarius or aries moon or mars, perhaps.

the two of you are likely to hit it off quite fast, the chemistry is amazing. though i don't see the energy being romantic right away, there's this vibe of you two just clicking very well. beautiful harmony between you and your fs.

you could text a lot, or regularly meet up at café's together.

i also get this snowy and cozy fall and winter atmosphere with warm coffee vibes for some reason. this could be a significant factor for some of you. you're welcome to take whatever resonates with you personally, and leave the rest.

meeting up with this person is likely to uplift you in a beautiful way. this warm, cozy and fuzzy feeling i'm getting, is likely to relate to how you guys will feel when around your fs as well. it will be so comfortable, the conversation will flow naturally.

the existence of this person is likely to make you feel renewed. life will just seem brighter, more beautiful and pleasant.

you could feel this inner contentment, that makes many of your problems seem less dramatic, now that you have this special source of light by your side.

your fs is likely to find the same warmth in you guys as well.

the sun in the end is such a beautiful way to end the spread; think of how the sun makes you feel. warm, comfortable. it's also very vital in energy and healthy for you. that's how the dynamic between you and your fs is likely to play out.

thank you for reading ᰔᩚ i'd love to hear you guys' feedback on what resonated for you

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! I recently watched the new Gladiator sequel and I’m so obsessed with the emperors, they’re absolute cuties<3 I was just wondering if you could write some headcanons maybe about being married to both of them, of course it’s fine if you don’t write about polygamy

Have a great day

My freaky gingers! Fred and Joseph did amazing as Caracalla and Geta in my opinion, my freaky little sadistic ginger emperors.

Being wanted by one sibling meant being desired by the other.

Geta and Caracalla shared everything, for nothing could ever belong to one of them as the other was bound to grow envious and want the same thing for himself.

So let’s say you were originally planned to marry just Geta or Caracalla, but the pair would abuse their power as emperors and demand that you were to marry both of them instead.

‘It’s the will of the gods after all.’ Geta would say.

‘And we wouldn’t want to displease them now would we?’ Caracalla would add with a cackle.

You had no say whatsoever but to agree to marry the brother emperors, which many didn’t bother to bat an eye of how curious a case this was, but again they too were under the belief that this was the will of the gods for the emperors to share a spouse for the betterment of their rule.

Both brothers thrive for your attention to be on them and they’d do anything to have it wherever and whenever they can, and all you could do was give them the attention that they so desire.

Hold them close to your chest, cradle them there and let them hear your heart and your breathing to smooth them in knowing that someone did love them, for being there for them as a safe haven from the frequent scheming of the senate and the betrayals and the constant needed to look over their shoulders to make sure no one was going to stab them in the back.

So being with you and held so closely like they deeply desired when before ascending the throne, made it all seem worth while if it meant being gifted the love that they so sought after in those they considered a close confidant within the senate, or just in general approval from the public they rule over.

Marriage life with Geta and Caracalla wasn’t easy, you didn’t expect it to in the slightest as you were constantly seen between the two emperors, draped in the finest of silks and jewellery they could find as to signal your beginning to them both, to show that you were on equal footing as your emperor husbands as your counsel was the one they often followed more often then not.

Does this mean they are rid of the concubines? Probably not and whether or not this was an issue for you is up for debate.

If it is then you’d naturally be questioning the loyalty of your emperor husbands in a fit of embarrassment and shame, not wanting to look a fool within your own marriage, especially not in front of the Roman public nor the senate that would try to whisper words of infidelity about Geta and Caracalla.

‘Am I not your spouse? You forced me into marriage with the two of you and yet you both still seek paid comfort.’ You’d spat as though it was venom in my mouth.

‘My love-‘

You’d glare at Geta who stopped short in his tracks as Caracalla watched you both with eerily silence.

‘If you are to seek paid comfort, then don’t expect none from me should you continue this route of self indulgence.’ You say before leaving the room, not once looking back as you returned to your shared chambers. Again you wouldn’t want to look a fool when your emperor husbands run to the arms of concubines, you were above it.

Let’s hypothetically say you have concubines yourself in retaliation, they’d unfortunately all be dead on the orders of Geta and Caracalla in a fit of rage.

Your marriage isn’t pretty nor romantic in the slightest, and I’m not trying to make it out to be like that, just only that your marriage to them both could be full of hypocrisy and jealousy and sometimes accusations of cheating would arise also as a result.

It’s a mess and wouldn’t get sorted unless your three are clear headed and clam enough to talk it out like healthy lovers should. And when it does get sorted, you all act as though everything that had come to this point of peace didn’t happen at all, as soon enough you were back to holding the emperor brothers again your chest as they slept.

Due to being their spouse you naturally had a target on your back, so it would be of no surprise that you were to be the intended victim for an assignation attempt by shadowy figures hiding their identities in the background.

Shadowy figures that wanted you dead as to kill any sort of morale the emperor brothers had by taken what’s theirs.

Let’s say you survive the attempt, make no mistake that your emperor husbands would be by your side immediately, anger and fury written as clear as day across their faces as they had you pressed between the two of them, they’d whispered hushed words into your ears about finding who did this to you and killing them publicly to show their intolerance to attempts on their spouse.

Your emperor husbands would make sure you were constantly guarded no matter what afterwards, killing those who didn’t do their duty and replacing them with new guards that would keep you safe when they were with the senate, or in the study.

They become insufferably clingy and overprotective afterwards that it felt suffocating to be in the same room with them being so close to you, it was overwhelming and they’d even have people test whenever or not your drink and or food was tampered with as extra precaution.

You understood their worries to an extent but if it’s been a good while since the attempt, then you find it unnecessary to continue such tight and overbearing conditions they had put in place. So it’s best to speak with them about that for paranoia had overtaken them both with the ideas that you’d be killed or taken even if they were to even dare blink.

Being married to Geta and Caracalla was chaos incarnate, discord and mayhem disguised in gold, jewellery and expensive silks and lavished lifestyles; a perfect facade to cover the true nature of their own unravelling beneath the mask they’ve made to get by as rulers of a powerful empire ever known.

[faithsotherhouseofchaos]

Is it possible, if you’re comfortable with it, to request a reader with a service dog where some fans kinda mean about her needing it and her boyfriend stands up for her and offers some much needed comfort? For Max or whoever you feel like doing it for?

Bailey the dog||Max verstappen x fem!autistic!reader

Summary — after some negative comments about Max’s girlfriend and her service dog max puts his foot and put an end to it.

Word count-1027

Being with Max Verstappen was a dream, but it came with its challenges. The Formula One world champion lived his life under a microscope, and by extension, so did you. Dating him had brought you joy beyond measure, but it also opened you up to the scrutiny of millions of fans, most of whom didn’t know you beyond the curated snapshots of your life they saw online.

You tried not to let it bother you—most of the time, you could shrug off the judgmental comments and cruel assumptions. But sometimes, the weight of it all became too much.

Bailey, your golden retriever and service dog, had been with you for years. She was more than just a dog; she was your lifeline. Whether it was helping you manage your anxiety or providing physical assistance on tough days, Bailey was always by your side. Max had accepted her instantly, treating her like family from the very beginning.

But not everyone was so kind.The latest storm of negativity had started after you attended a recent Formula 1 event with Max. The cameras had captured you and Bailey by his side as you walked through the paddock together, and while most fans were supportive, a loud minority had taken it upon themselves to criticize you.

“She’s so desperate for attention. Why bring that dog everywhere?”

“She looks fine to me. What does she even need a service dog for?”

“Max could do so much better. She’s embarrassing him.”

The comments spiraled from there, turning into an avalanche of baseless accusations and unwarranted cruelty. You’d tried to avoid reading them, but curiosity—or maybe a self-destructive streak—got the better of you. By the time you closed your phone, the words felt like they were etched into your skin, impossible to forget.

You spent the rest of the day on the couch, Bailey’s head resting on your lap as if she could sense your distress. You stroked her soft fur absentmindedly, the repetitive motion soothing your frayed nerves.

When Max came home from the gym, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

“Hey, liefje,” he greeted, dropping his gym bag by the door. His usual smile faltered when he saw the look on your face. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Max’s brows furrowed, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sitting down beside you, he gently tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t pretend. Talk to me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you hesitated. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but Max’s concerned gaze broke down your walls.

“It’s the fans,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “They’re saying horrible things about me. About Bailey. They think I’m using her for attention or that I don’t really need her. And they’re saying I’m embarrassing you.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Who’s saying that?”

“Just… people online,” you said, shrugging weakly. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Max said firmly. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you broke down against his chest. His hand stroked your hair, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s not stupid at all. People don’t understand, and instead of trying to, they judge. It’s cruel, and it’s wrong. But you are not embarrassing me. Not ever.”

His words were a balm to your wounded heart, but the pain lingered. “I just wish they’d stop,” you whispered.

“They will,” Max said, his tone carrying a determination that made you pull back to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to say something,” he replied, grabbing his phone.

“Max, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with conviction. “I’m not going to sit by and let people talk about you like that. You’re my girlfriend. You’re the strongest person I know, and Bailey is amazing. They need to know that.”

Before you could protest, Max opened Instagram and began typing. You watched as his fingers flew across the screen, his expression resolute.

A few minutes later, he showed you the post.

The photo was one of you and Bailey at the paddock, smiling at each other while Max stood beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The caption read:

“This is Y/n and her service dog, Bailey. Bailey isn’t just a dog; she’s a trained professional who helps my girlfriend manage things you don’t see. If you think you have the right to judge her for needing Bailey, think again. Kindness is free. Maybe try using it. And to the majority of you who support us—thank you. Your love doesn’t go unnoticed.”

He hit “Post” before you could say anything, setting his phone aside and pulling you back into his arms.

“Max, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you. And no one has the right to make you feel like you’re anything less than incredible.”

The post went viral within hours. Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, sharing their own experiences with service dogs and calling out the cruelty of the original comments. Some even apologized, admitting they hadn’t understood before.

As you scrolled through the responses later that evening, tears filled your eyes again—this time from gratitude.

“You didn’t just stand up for me,” you said, looking at Max. “You stood up for everyone who’s ever needed someone like Bailey. Thank you.”

Max smiled, pulling you closer. “You deserve the world, liefje. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”

Bailey barked softly, wagging her tail as if to agree. Max chuckled, ruffling her fur. “Looks like Bailey’s on my side.”

“She always is,” you said with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days.

With Max’s arms around you and Bailey by your side, you felt stronger than ever. No amount of negativity could take that away

[mindless-existence1]

Hiii!! I wanted to request a shadow x fem! reader who in the movie verse is a college student that found shadow and now partly takes care of him. Knowing shadow, he’d still be a loner but I’d like to think having an another younger female influence in his life could help him with Maria’s passing. I also think it’d be super cute if she taught him gen z/modern things. He’s just too precious in the movie omg☹️❤️

Authors note: I love Shadow he's my boy. Also I didn't come up with how they met so this is just them hanging out in readers apartment watching a movie together

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment in Green Hills wasn’t anything fancy—just a modest space with a small kitchen, a worn but comfortable couch, and a TV that sometimes acted up. But it was home, and apparently, Shadow thought so too.

The first time he came over, it had been an unexpected visit. You’d found him on your balcony, his crimson eyes scanning the street below like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You’d invited him in, unsure if he’d accept, but he had.

Since then, Shadow had started dropping by when he needed to escape the chaos of the world—or his own thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.

He was sprawled on your couch, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the dim light of the TV. You had a movie playing, some action-packed thriller that you thought he’d enjoy. But Shadow seemed more interested in quietly existing in the moment.

“Popcorn?” you offered, holding out a bowl as you curled up on the other end of the couch.He glanced at it skeptically. “I don’t understand humans’ obsession with this.”

“You say that every time, and yet you always eat it,” you teased, shaking the bowl slightly. Shadow’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, and he reached out to grab a handful.

As the movie played, you got caught up in the action. One scene showed the protagonists making a mistake that ended in a dramatic explosion. You couldn’t help but comment, “Oh man, those guys are cooked.”

Shadow’s ears twitched, and he turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowed. “Cooked? They’re not being prepared as food.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation. “No, it’s slang,” you explained. “It means they’re done for, like there’s no coming back from that.”

He frowned, clearly processing your words. “Why use a term that implies food preparation instead of saying what you mean?”

“Because slang is fun, and it makes language more expressive,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s just how people talk sometimes.” Shadow huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Humans are strange.”

“And yet, you keep coming here,” you shot back with a playful smile.Shadow didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the screen, but the corners of his mouth softened just slightly.

“Your apartment is… peaceful,” he said finally. Your chest warmed at his words. Shadow wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings, so every little admission felt significant.

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” you said, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “Even if you think popcorn and slang are weird.” He didn’t reply, but his crimson eyes flicked toward you for a moment, a quiet gratitude in his gaze.

By the time the credits rolled, you were explaining another piece of slang—this time, “vibe.” Shadow looked vaguely unimpressed.

“So, when someone says ‘good vibes,’ they mean a positive feeling or atmosphere?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.“Exactly!” you said, grinning. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

He shook his head, muttering something about “unnecessary complications,” but you just shook your head with a small smile. As the night wore on, you found yourself leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away, simply letting you stay there as the quiet hum of the TV filled the room.

In these moments, you knew Shadow found something he didn’t often allow himself: peace. And for as long as he needed it, you’d always make room for him in your little corner of Green Hills.

[ennabear]

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part two)

tutor!jayce talis x reader college au

content: reader recently decided to get a physics tutor...it's time for the first session with jayce talis

notes: walk with me and suspend ur disbelief in the actual physics talk...i have to make it somewhat believable that they're actually having tutoring sessions so i dug into the crevices of my brain for old physics topics that aren't too hard if you know them...if you don't..hopefully jayce makes sense LMAOOOO. but i will try not to do too much physics that it takes you out of it, i just want to build the tension and relationship. just trust me.

again mentions of neurodivergence/adhd references but that’s it really

word count: 1.9k

series masterlist

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Ekko was your longest friend—the closest one you had. He understood your brain even more than Viktor did, which was saying something. Since the day the two of you met in middle school, you became accustomed to one another. You knew each other like the back of your hands—which is why you knew he’d be so upset right now.

Immediately after leaving the student center, you scrambled to the dining hall. You and Ekko had a standing lunch date every day unless one of you said otherwise. There wasn’t always anything to say, but the idea of each other’s company comforted you—comforted him. He had been adamant that even if you two sat in silence, worked on classwork, or simply watched something on your phones, that the time was well spent.

Ekko valued these meetings in particular after his last girlfriend. You didn’t talk about Powder much…but he was devastated when she left town. The three of you had been friends for a long time…she’d abandoned you too. Acknowledging how much harder it may have been for Ekko was hard. You were forced to pick up the pieces and it started with daily check-ins over lunch. They stuck. 

You spotted him sitting alone, sipping on his drink through the glass. You tapped on it softly, getting his attention, waving.

He lit up when you approached the table, “Funny seeing you here.” Ekko looked at his watch dramatically, “Almost thought you couldn’t tell time for a second there.” 

“I am so sorry.” You moved to sit, pulling out the chair across from him. “I got caught up at the student center, needed a tutor for physics.” 

Ekko watched you reach and grab his bag on the table. He rolled his eyes knowingly—you were going for the fries of course. 

You continued, “Viktor recommended this guy, his lab partner.” 

Ekko nodded, “Thats great…but I’m also good at physics ya know?” 

“Oh yes, I totally forgot to ask my best friend to be my tutor. My best friend who knows I cannot stay on topic to save my life…wants me to ask him to be my tutor…so we can definitely not work on physics for the entire session.” You paused, a fry just on your lip, “Besides, I didn’t really have a choice.” 

“Okay first, I would be a great tutor! And second, what do you mean, didn’t have a choice?” 

“Viktor kinda just…led me there?” 

“So you didn’t have a chance to get yourself worked up and find a way to not go…great tactic on Viktor’s part.” 

There was a silence, but never uncomfortable when you were with Ekko. You smiled to yourself at that, and then about how surprisingly well the first meeting went. 

“He seemed nice…Jayce…my tutor.” 

Ekko reached into his bag, grabbing his sandwich. “Am I sensing a but?” 

“No, actually. He just seemed genuinely invested in me not feeling bad when it comes to sucking at school.” You paused, rubbing your hands in a napkin. “He said we could work on making it all seem more interesting…which I liked.” Ekko still hadn’t unraveled his sandwich, listening intently. You watched him observe you, but not speak up. “What?” 

He shook his head, “Nothing…that’s great.” 

The rest of your lunch was spent quietly recounting your days, not much of note happening otherwise. Eventually, you parted ways with an unspoken yet understood promise that you would see each other tomorrow. 

Your first session with Jayce was also tomorrow. That was on top of everything else you had to do. So much to be done…such little time, you thought. 

The following day came just as quickly as the previous had ended. You woke in a frenzy, almost always rushing to and from one class and toward the next. Then, to tutoring. 

You stumbled in, looking for any familiar face. You were met with only one, Jayce’s. He stood quickly, grabbing a folder and his bag before approaching you. 

“Right on time.” He turned, walking you toward a room off to the side. “This will be the office we use, I requested one with a white board.” He glanced back at you for affirmation before speaking again. “If you ever come for our meetings and don’t see me in the lobby, you can just come in here.” 

“Sounds good.” Your lip curled at your voice coming out more weak than you expected. You had to admire your own consistent ability to embarrass yourself, truly. 

He stepped back, allowing you to walk in first, again. “So…I printed these forms out for you.” He opened the folder, taking out some of the pages and spreading them on the table. “This is the basis for everything you’ll need to know about physics. There’s legends here, conversion charts, some of the greek symbols you’ll need to know, circuit diagrams, acronyms…everything.” You slowly sat in your chair, observing the filled pages. Jayce noticed you looking between the table and him with wide eyes. 

“This is a lot of information…” 

He finally sat down. “It is…but we have time to get you up to speed.” 

“But there’s these quizzes.” You looked down at the table, tapping a finger lightly against the wood. “Every week we have to prove we understood the concept and I am already weeks behind so it just keeps building on things I didn’t even understand to begin with. I don’t have time, I have to pass the quizzes so I can pass the class and keep my scholarship. If I lose my scholarship, I can’t pay for school and I’ll have to drop out. And all of this over stupid fucking physics and a professor who seems to want to ruin my life specifically.” You finally took a breath, “I can’t do this.” 

“I think you can.” 

Your eyes snapped up, meeting his. The look on his face seemed sincere—as if he truly believed in the statement. Hardly knowing you at all, he had enough faith that you could, in fact, do this.

“So,” he clasped his hands together. “What’s this next quiz on? What’s the topic for the week?” He got up, grabbing a marker from the white board’s small shelf. He looked at you expectantly, a brow arching as if to ask you again. 

“Vectors.” 

He nodded, “Okay, and what confuses you about vectors?” 

“Well, I feel like I’m pretty good at understanding angles. But as soon as we add in speed or velocity I am just…confused.” 

“Let’s start there.” He wrote the words speed and velocity on the white board in broad strokes, leaving space beneath each. “What is speed? Don’t think about it too hard.” 

“How fast something is going?” 

“Exactly, like a car.” He drew a makeshift car, and an indicator of both miles and kilometers. “Velocity is different.” He sketched a quick graph, a simple y and x axis and an arrow. “Velocity indicates the direction of an object.” His hand followed the trail of the arrow he drew, emphasizing that it was in motion. “So, velocity is the only one that actually would be considered when you look at vectors. Speed is just a number…velocity represents a change in position…which is what vectors do.” 

You grimaced at his attempt to make it make sense for you. The effort was appreciated, truly, but it didn’t stick. You feigned understanding, nodding your head in an attempt to get him to move on and explain more. This was common for you. Something wouldn’t make sense, but you wouldn’t want to hold everyone up, to be a burden. So you would sit in class, half listening, half in another world. After class, you’d be forced to scour videos about the very subject the teacher had spent class time explaining. Unfortunately that was a rabbit hole, too, as you would always end up on videos that had nothing to do with school. 

His eyes narrowed, not believing that your nod was enough of an indicator that you understood. “Come with me.” He moved to grab the papers for you, stuffing them in the folder and sliding them to you. You followed without a thought, trying to match his steady pace. He lead you to a nearby park down the street and sat his bag underneath a tree. You copied, placing your bag down beside his. It was impossible to not feel awkward, and yet, he persisted. 

“Okay stand here,” he pointed a finger to a random spot on the ground. Your feet stood perfect on the space where the asphalt and grass met, one foot on each side. “So just imagine that standing here, you are the bottom of a line graph along the x-axis. He moved his hand side-to-side, palm down, reminding you that this would be the horizontal line. Hotdogs and hamburgers. You remembered the silly phrase from elementary school. 

“Okay, standing here…x-axis.” 

He walked over to the grass side, “Okay, over here…in the nice green grass…this is positive.” He walked over to the asphalt, “I’m on your left now, on the asphalt…this is negative.” 

“…Okay.” 

He walked to mirror your position, one foot on each terrain. Then, he slowly stepped on the grass. “Without thinking about numbers, how would you describe what I just did.” 

“You…” Your brows furrowed, “You walked to the grass?” 

“Right, and that is-“ 

“Positive?” 

“Exactly.” 

In a split second, he darted over to the asphalt. “How bout now?” 

“You ran to the…to the negative?” 

He nodded, meeting you back at center again. He smirked at how quickly he’d even come up with this demonstration. “This is an example of how vectors work. When you think of me running somewhere, picking up my speed, but moving to the quote unquote ‘negative,’ this could also mean that from my original position-“ 

Your eyes lit up, “You moved backwards?” 

“Yup, or even down. On a graph, I mean.” He smiled with each word, amused by how you caught on to his unorthodox teachings. “But if I move slowly and to the ‘positive’ side?” He waited for you to answer.

“You…moved up or to the right.” 

“Just like a point on a graph.” He stood, hands on his hips. 

You were on the edge of every word he spoke, analyzing his every movement. You knew it was inopportune, but it was rather characteristic for you to lose focus right then. Jayce’s eyes were…interesting. Your first instinct was to say that they were yellow. When you looked closer you noticed the border of dark brown, the flecks of hazel and copper. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen. You got so caught up, you missed his hand coming up—leaving it lingering in the air. 

“What,” he questioned, “Do you not like high-fives as encouragement?” 

You chuckled, finally meeting his hand with yours. “I actually prefer snacks as encouragement, but this works.” 

It was his turn to laugh, then. It was short-lived. You followed his line of sight to see the same woman from the resource center, the one he’d been so enraptured by. Rightfully so; she was even more beautiful than you thought. The sunlight hit her skin just right, almost glistening. You gulped, somewhat intimidated by her presence alone. 

She reached you both, immediately giving Jayce a hug before turning to greet you. 

“Hey, how’s the tutoring going?” She nudged the man beside her, looking to you for an answer. 

“It’s going well,” you glanced at your phone screen, shit. “I actually should get going, but today was really helpful, thank you Jayce, bye.” 

You shuffled to grab your things as quickly as possible, avoiding the look of surprise on Jayce’s face. It didn’t really matter, though. 

Ekko was going to be pissed, again. 

part three

[noxitsnox]

if we get too closе, would it be okay?

hyun-ju x gn!reader - highschool au

summery: hyun-ju came out to her- now ex- girlfriend who spread the rumor around the whole school.

tags: trans/homophobia (the word tr**ny is used one (1) time), bullying, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff i promise, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i am obsessed it's not fair. this is pre-t but i'm still going to use she/her pronouns for hyun-ju <3 also english is not my first language and this isn't proof read, so i apologize for any mistake. @exactlyinfp

hyun-ju didn't want to go to school that day. her girlfriend, ex girlfriend now, broke up with her just because she trusted her, because she didn't want to hide anymore and she believed that her girlfriend of almost two years would understand. but she didn't. she called her all kind of names and blocked her everywhere.

she hoped this was where it ended. that they could just ignore each other and keep living life as it is. it would have been so much easier that way. but the moment she entered the school hallway she knew something happened. the looks she was getting were strange, full of hate. definitely not the looks you receive when you just broke up. she tried to ignore it and walked to her class with her head down.

it was early. a lot of time passed before some of her classmates entered the room. maybe it was better if they stayed outside. their chatter died down as soon as they saw her. one of them, who was seated next to her, took his desk and dragged it as far away from her as possible. “you're sick”, he said under his breath. “stay away from me.”

she stayed silent as the realization hit her. if he knew, everyone else did too. fighting tears, she forced herself to keep cool.

slowly people filled the room. everyone ignored her, even her so called friends looked at her with disgust. only y/n seemed to be acting as if nothing happened. maybe they didn't know about it yet. they’ll turn their back to you like everyone else, she thought.

“oh hyun-ju, how are you?”

y/n waited for an answer that never arrived. so, with a sad smile, they spoke again. “it's fine. you don't have to talk with me. you have my number in case you change your mind.”

———

for the rest of the week she ignored everyone. she was barely alive.

every morning she entered school feeling like a criminal. her locker in the changing rooms was filled with insults. some guys even tried to push her on the ground. that was the only moment she reacted. she could ignore words, but physical aggression was were she drew the line.

every night she cried herself to sleep, wishing she had someone on her side, someone to talk to. her family didn't know about what was happening in school and she hoped for it to stay that way or she wouldn't even have a home anymore.

it was on saturday afternoon that she lost it. she was out, getting some groceries for her mother at the local market, and she saw her ex with her friends. she tried to hide before they could notice her, but she wasn't fast enough.

"oh god, isn't that that tranny you used to date?", one said pointing at her.

"don't say that out loud, please. what will people think of me?"

hyun-ju ran away without even taking food from the market stall. she kept running until their voice became indistinguishable echoes.

she sat on the side walk and took out her phone, looking for y/n contact. she started crying, the tears blurring her vision.

their words came back to her. you have my number in case you change your mind. were they serious? she hesitantly called them, hoping for the best.

y/n didn't take long to answer and for that she was grateful.

"hey, you called!"

"i- yes... listen can you, can you come here?"

"oh hyun-ju, you're crying? is everything okay?"

"i don't even know anymore. please, just come here." and with that she hung up the phone, quickly shared the position with them.

she hugged her knees as she waited.

———

y/n was happy that hyun-ju called, even if the situation wasn't ideal. even though they weren't intimate, they cared about her and it made them sad to see her suffer. especially if she was being ridiculed for something beyond her control.

y/n tried to get to her as fast as possible. they went out in their sweats without bothering to put on something nicer. they didn't like the idea of hyun-ju seeing them in that state, but they also realized that they had to put vanity aside at the moment.

as soon as she saw y/n she got up and hugged. they remained in that position for a while. hyun-ju cried and cried while y/n rubbed her back, doing what they could to comfort her.

"sorry... i don't know why i did that", she said as she let go of them.

"you don't have to apologize. do you feel better now?"

"i do, thanks."

an awkward silence fell until y/n suggested they start walking with a wave of their hand, "do you wanna talk about what's happening?"

"i just want to forget about it. can we talk about something else?"

"oh sure", y/n looked at her and smiled. "do you wanna hear about this manga i'm reading?"

a/n: i realize that for an xreader the reader is barely there 😬 sorry. let me now if you liked it!!

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

wait did I say 16 or 18? I meant 18 for the Oscar request please the “Silly me to assume that you would care.”

I fucked up +:ꔫ:﹤

Prompt: 18. "Silly me to assume that you would care."

𖦹 op x reader ₊˚⊹♡

𖦹 angst + fluff ₊˚⊹♡

masterlist ☾☼

it had started after hungary. you had noticed it, but decided to wait for oscar to approach you. he never did.

there were way too many people online who said that oscar's first win wasn't deserved, that lando had gifted the win to him. it was a fucked up strategy call, and lando and oscar had both agreed on it later. but, the amount of fans who blamed oscar for the radio conversations between lando and will during the race was putting a weight on his shoulders that he didn't need.

there were some who hated on his teammate as well, for not spraying oscar with champagne on the podium, but lando had. oscar knew he had. just like oscar knew that lando didn't blame oscar for the fucked up race they'd had.

but, it got worse, when he couldn't get pole positions, and he tried his hardest for a win. he got p3 or p2 but never good enough for p1. he was losing himself in his work, and you could see it. you tried your best to let him know that you were there for him, you came for more races, you cheered for him from the paddock itself. you hoped and hoped and hoped that your presence would be enough for your boyfriend.

the pressure kept getting worse, affecting his relationship with his own teammate as well. oscar was so desperate to prove himself, that the risky move he made in monza had only led to a mclaren 2-3 instead of a 1-2 as planned. you had watched oscar beat himself up about it, and you had watched the team principal scold oscar for the move as well.

he had confided in you later that lando and him had spoken about it, and that his teammate didn't blame oscar, which just made him feel worse. but, before you could offer comfort or advice, he had fallen asleep. on the other side of the bed, far away from you. that's when you noticed the ache in your chest for the first time.

when oscar got his second win in baku, you had been overjoyed. you stood with nicole at the parc ferme, cheering for your boyfriend. you were immensely proud of oscar, and you knew he was too.

he had rushed over, celebrating with his team, and even hugging his mom. you were right beside them, but he hadn't hugged you. he hadn't even looked at you. that's okay. he was full of adrenaline. he probably didn't notice you standing there. that's okay.

of course, you got to congratulate him later. you hugged him, and he hugged you back, before someone stole his attention, and without a second glance, he left.

the ache in your chest returned.

thats okay. he was a winner. he deserved the attention he was receiving.

you'd only hoped that it would be better from then on. that he wouldn't feel so much pressure, and he would make time for the two of you again.

he didn't.

andrea had asked him to help lando in the world drivers championship, and oscar hadn't been keen about it. he hated the thought of giving up a position, no matter who it was for. he deserved to have wins under his belt, and he was also a racing driver. but, again, lando and him had spoken about it, and cleared out what lando expected from him as "help" and what he didn't want oscar to do.

you had found out about that through social media. not directly from your boyfriend.

the ache was back.

that's okay. he'd been busy.

it was a few weeks later when it all came crashing down.

it was your birthday. you knew oscar was busy at the mtc, so you organised a candle light dinner with his favourite and your favourite. you hadn't had the chance to speak to oscar throughout the day. he was busy working, and you didn't want to disturb him.

you had put on your brand new dress, and you looked beautiful, if you said so yourself. you were proud of yourself, and you were excited for the night.

you sat in different positions, trying out which one was the most comfortable, and which one would make oscar smile. you eventually settled with just sitting on your chair of the small round table where everything had been set.

you checked your phone. 7 p.m. you smiled. oscar must be on his way.

but, 7 turned to 8, and you slouched in your seat, looking out the window.

and then, 8 turned to 9, and you became to play games on your phone.

9 turned to 10, and you slipped off your shoes and started watching a random show on netflix to pass the time.

by the time, 10 turned to 11, you sighed, giving up hope. you stood up, ready to change out of your outfit, when the door opened. you were so tired, you didn't even want to greet your boyfriend, or acknowledge him.

you just quietly made your way to your suitcase and pulled out your pajamas.

"what's this? did i miss date night?" oscar asked, confused, as he kept his bag inside the cupboard.

"no." you responded curtly, not even looking at him as you made your way to the bathroom.

"i didn't have anything in the calendar for a date night," oscar said, looking at his phone.

"cause it wasn't." your tone was flat, and oscar could tell something was wrong.

"then, what am i missing?"

you didn't respond, and instead changed out of your dress and into your pajamas quietly.

as you exited the bathroom, oscar asked again, "y/n, what am i missing?" he was starting to sound annoyed, but you didn't care.

before he could ask again, because you refused to respond, you just didn't have the energy, your phone rang. it was your sibling, and you let out a little smile.

answering the call, you put it on speakerphone as you folded your dress neatly.

"hey, birthday girl!" your sibling said from the other side.

you laughed at the excitement, a little bit of joy in the pit of sadness you had found yourself in.

"happy birthday! you're so old now!" you laughed again.

"thank you," you said softly, tears brimming your eyes.

"what are you doing now?"

"oh, just heading to bed. it's 11:30 here, and i'm exhausted from celebrating all day," you said with faux enthusiasm in your voice.

"alright, alright, im gonna let you sleep. good night! love you,"

"love you too," you said back, and then hung up the phone.

"y/n," oscar started.

you didn't respond. you just started packing up everything you had set out.

"i'm so sorry i forgot. we've got the constructor's and we're all really focused on it-"

"it's fine, oscar. it doesn't matter." you said, just wanting to sleep.

"we're under a lot of pressure, you know that. you knew what you were getting into when we got together, you knew this is what my life is like," oscar argued.

"yes, oscar, i knew." you pulled back the covers.

"then, why are you so mad? why can't you be more understanding of it instead of being all passive aggressive about it? i made a mistake! i'm sorry! what more do you want me to do?" oscar burst out.

the tears finally fell as you shouted, "nothing, oscar! i don't want you to do anything about it because you haven't been doing anything about us for months now!"

"thats not fair-"

"not fair? really, oscar? was it fair when the only things we spoke about was the races and the team and your teammate? was it fair when you didn't even notice me cheering for you at the parc ferme at baku? was it fair that half the things i now know about you or your team or your formula one life, i find out through social media?" you screamed.

oscar looked away.

"was it fair that i had to organise my own birthday dinner, and buy myself presents from you, only to be forgotten?" you whispered, the tears falling onto the duvet as you stood by the bed.

"i'm stressed out, y/n, i need to focus on my career, i need to focus on the championship. you know that." oscar said.

"of course i know that. i always know that. but, do you know that i got an award at my university? do you know that i've gotten my dream job back home? do you know that i've been requesting they let me work from home so that i can follow you around and be the dutiful wag?"

"you never told me any of that! how am i supposed to know any of that if you never tell me?" oscar yelled.

"i did, oscar! i sent you pictures, i texted you first thing! all i ever got was a fucking thumbs up reaction. you didn't even have the decency to type out a fucking congratulations!"

"yeah, well, i'm busy with my career too! you're not the only one who's got things going on in their life, y/n! i've got to focus here completely!"

you scoffed, sniffling a little. you nodded. you picked up your phone and your wallet and a jacket. "you're right. you should focus on your career and your life. you do that. silly me to assume that you would care about mine."

you walked out, slamming the door. tears streamed down your face, and you walked to the elevator where you wiped your face. you asked the receptionist for a room, whichever they had available for you for the night. with the key in hand, you walked to that room. you pulled the duvet back, and settled in bed, and you slept in that new room.

you ignored your brain reminding you that oscar hadn't followed you, hadn't texted you or called you.

you ignored your brain, and you let yourself sleep.

the next morning, there was still no texts from oscar, and you rubbed your chest as the ache grew. ignoring it, you checked out of the room, paying whatever amount had to be paid, and went back to the room you and oscar shared.

opening the door, you realised that oscar had already left for the day, and willing yourself to not cry, you began packing your suitcase and picking out your outfit for the day.

you weren't going to sit in the hotel room all day. your flight back home was tomorrow, and you were going to explore the city. yes. that's what you were going to do.

you packed a small bag, and got all your necessities, and you spent the day roaming the streets and eating food from vans, and enjoying. you couldn't remember the last time you truly enjoyed like this.

of course, a huge part of you wished that you could feel this with oscar. you desperately wanted to. but you couldn't. you weren't sure where your relationship with oscar stood at this point. you wanted to make it work. you loved him. you wanted him to be your endgame.

but at the same time, if he wasn't going to give you the same efforts or the same affection, then would it really be worth it? you had some self respect. you weren't going to let him push you around or anything. you needed to be viewed and valued as an equal, and you needed to be supported and cherished.

you knew that a conversation with oscar would make or break your relationship. the two of you were rational adults. all that was needed was a serious sit down conversation.

by evening, you had seen everything that you wanted to. you had decided to have dinner at the hotel itself, in the comfort of the bed and your pajamas. you had bought little gifts for all your friends and family and oscar's family, and yes, for oscar as well. you could pack quickly while the food came, and then get a good night's sleep. that was a good plan.

as you unlocked the door with your key card and entered the room, you stopped short.

oscar stood on the other side in a casual formal attire, your dress from last night laid out on the bed, a candle lit dinner behind him, and a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand.

your mouth opened to say something, ask something. but you were at a loss of words.

"i fucked up." oscar started.

his voice broke you out of your trance as you entered the room and closed the door behind you, locking it.

"i fucked up really bad. i got so lost in my own thing and trying to make a name for myself and prove to people that the expectations they set for me are true, that i-"

he took a deep breath, trying to find the words.

"-i treated you like you weren't important. but you are. you are so important to me, and i hate myself for ever making you feel like i don't care about you, because really, you're the only thing that keeps me going every day. i'm sorry, y/n. i've been a shitty boyfriend, and i'm sorry that i needed you to tell me that for me to realise.

"i promise, i'll be better. i'll do better. you're it for me, and i made this mistake once, i'm not going to do it again." he finished, his chest heaving.

"okay," you said. you didn't know what else to say really.

"okay?"

"okay," you nodded, with a small smile.

"okay. do you maybe wanna have dinner with me and pretend that it's your birthday?"

you bit your lip to hide a smile, as you walked over the bed, picking up the dress. you made your way to the bathroom, stopping in between and leaning up to press a soft kiss against oscar's lips.

"okay,"

"okay."

he smiled, and you thought to yourself that everything was going to be okay now.

✩♬₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

i hope you enjoy this! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[celestiamour]

since you asked for hyun-ju ideas, here am i 🙂

Imagine being her girlfriend and finally managing to hype her up to wear something more feminine for a date (like a dress or a skirt), only for that confidence to be shattered by some strangers on the street ;((

so, after a bit of comfort, you just need to prove how they were wrong, and show your sweet girlfriend how nice you think she looks on that outfit *wink wink*

ft. cho hyun ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyping her up to go out wearing a skirt for the first time┊0.7k words

contains: fluff with suggestive content at the end!! gender dysphoria & insecurity but mainly euphoria, established relationship, reader is shorter

➤ author's note: i went off prompt and didn’t do smut for this one because i really just wanted to focus on her gender euphoria moment, so sorry (also this is my first time writing for a trans character centered around gender identity! my knowledge mainly comes from having an ex girlfriend who was trans and told me about her experience, but if i got anything wrong or need improvement for something, please tell me so that i can improve and do hyun-ju justice!)

she stared at herself in the mirror, almost in disbelief at first at the reflection looking back at her. it’s insane how a little bit of makeup and stylized outfits could completely transform her appearance, the magic being something she’s heard about plenty of times but has only been able to witness at this moment. her fingers nimbly adjusted her hair, brushing it back before pushing the front stands forward to frame her face, and then flying to her pleated skirt to straighten it out. her heartbeat was all over the place, both from the happiness of finally feeling like herself and from the anxiety of planning to go out in public like this.

hyun-ju paused at the thought of that, looking back at herself and suddenly focusing on all of her insecurities again— the more masculine features that other people would point out and whisper about from her face to her frame. she looked at her bare legs and found the contrast with the dainty piece of cloth too stark to ignore, finding herself crossing her legs and wondering if she should just wear pants like she usually did.

self-consciousness started to consume her entire being and thoughts about it not being enough raced across her mind, taking in a deep breath and considering just taking it all off to stay in for the night. the last thing she wanted was to get harassed by some assholes on the street just for trying to be herself, especially when she knew you would yell back at them and a fight was very much possible as it happened in the past before ending with you in the hospital for a broken wrist (the other guy was in a much worse state, but she still didn’t like the idea of you getting injured or possibly even arrested for her behalf).

“babe, are you finished changing?” you called out and broke her out of her thinking, but you entered before she could say anything. she cringed slightly and closed her, feeling embarrassed until she heard you gasp in pure delight, “oh, you look so beautiful!”

the heat radiating off her cheeks from being sheepish quickly changed to that of being flustered, “r-really?”

“of course!” you took her hands into yours, spinning her around like she was a princess wearing the most luxurious ball gown ever crafted even though it was bought at a local mall, “i knew this outfit would look good on you, it really is your color!”

“right, i was just worried it looked weird…” she felt a little stupid expressing her concerns, but she knew you were understanding, “i just feel like… i don’t know, i feel like i’m too tall to wear something like this…”

“being too tall isn’t a problem! personally, i would kill to be your height and to have your legs, and i know plenty of other people would too. it’s a trait that lots of top models have, so you don’t have to worry about anything!”

your words made her crack a smile, feeling the initial confidence flood her and your arm wrap around her waist as her gaze returned to the mirror once again with both of you admiring her beauty. seeing herself in your light was always enlightening like she was a completely different person in the best way possible, and she was so grateful to have you as her girlfriend to pull her out of her negative thoughts. 

“well, we better get going. if we stand here always just staring at how pretty you are, i might not be able to control myself and we’ll be home all night,” you teased, standing on your tip-toes and kissing her carefully on the lips so as to not mess up the tinted gloss.

“i don’t think i would mind that…” 

“don’t tempt me now…” the fluffy atmosphere became charged with a familiar tension with your touch lingering on her skin, one of your hands traced up her thigh with sinful ideas forming on how you could mark up the unblemished skin and ruin the makeup you wanted to preserve a mere few seconds ago.

after a few seconds of heavy silence, you finally pulled her to join you on the bed, all teasing smiles and lust, “well, we can just order an uber instead of walking, we can spare ten minutes. that’s all the time we need, isn’t it?”

[star-suh]

Happy-ly Ever After: The Spa

Ricky Shen x Male Reader

an: last part of the happy spa trilogy, also i became lazier so i won't be writing content warnings anymore 😭

—

yn hasn’t had sex for a long time due to university assignments so when the opportunity appears, he takes it but first he has to get ready for the occasion. he decides to visit a famous spa that is said to have the most pretty and gorgeous people in the world. “i have to make sure if that’s true” he mutters while locking the front door.

the bell on the door rings, alerting the receptionist that someone just arrived, “hey hello, my name is matthew, how can i help you today?”. “hello, i want a massage and some uhmm… depilation.. y-you know where” yn says embarrassed. matthew lets out an almost quiet laugh, “sure buddy, let me guide you to the locker rooms so you can change your clothes and then go to this room” he hands him a card with a number on it, “enjoy” he smiles at yn.

yn nervously awaits for the person who’s gonna service him when the door creaks open, revealing a tall and handsome guy. “good afternoon, my name is ricky and i’m gonna be in charge of you for the rest of the day” he confidently says, “so a massage and a depilation.. wax?” his question being responded with a little yeah from the client.

the massage started, ricky made sure to put enough body oil so the movements of his hands were smooth, pressing the right pressure spots, relieving yn from the stress.

“how are you feeling mr. ln?” the masseur’s hands kneading the skin as if it were bread dough, moans coming out of his mouth “it feels so good mr.” he praises “the best feeling. i feel as if i’m on top of a fluffy cloud”. yn completely relaxes on the mattress, his body glistening with the yellow and white lights around the room. “okay, time for waxing” unexpectedly ricky slaps yn’s ass making him gasp in surprise, “what?” he says looking around. “you asked for it, ricky pulls out the card matthew gave yn before, a massage and a depilation you know where” ricky hides the card on his pant’s pocket, “the wax is ready man, so sit on all fours or whatever position your comfortable, what matters is that your ass is wide open for me to do a good job”. ‘why’s he smiling like that? yn thought, ‘he seems like he enjoys this type of work’. yn obeys but he just sits with his legs on each side of his body, near the mattress edge, his ass wide open and hole visible for ricky who makes a wow with his mouth and bit his lower lip.

he starts spreading the wax with a device that leaves a thin film of it on yn’s ass, ricky just needs to peel it and ta-dah the hair is gone. he continues repeating the process all over yn’s ass until it’s completely smooth, “something special for tonight?” ricky asks, sensing the reason for the waxing. but yn was too embarrassed to answer, after all he has his ass in front of an unknown’s face. “tough crowd huh” ricky murmurs, continuing doing his job. yn hears when ricky puts the device on a table near them and think he can go already but ricky’s hand grips his left ass cheek hard stopping him from stepping outside the massage bed, “i’m not done with you mr., it’s the turn of your hole to be waxed” despite his smile yn could sense ricky was getting annoyed by his actions. ‘don’t worry yn this is just the last part�� he says in his mind and as if ricky had read his thoughts he mutters an ‘it’s not the last part’.

yn’s hole clenches on air while being smeared on the wax, this time ricky was using his hands, with gloves of course, he then peels the film of wax in little chunks until it’s gone completely, once again repeating the process until all is clean and smooth. at this point yn has given up, he was now face down ass up, his hole clenching right in front of ricky’s face, “look who’s being cute all of a sudden” ricky pours some cream on his hand and smears it on yn’s ass, he starts to pretend as if the hole was yn’s face, talking to it. sometimes his hand slips right above the pulsating hole disguised as accidental touches, “sorry” he mutters everytime it happens. yn was getting aroused, the same as ricky, who’s bulge started to appear on his silky pants. yn’s dick gets hard, the mere thought of someone as hot as ricky doing those types of things to his hole clouds his mind. ricky blows air from his mouth directly to yn’s hole, it clenches on it. as if he was being hypnotized ricky slowly moves his face closer against the other, whispering sweet nothings to it, his mouth opens, it was watering, eager to taste that ring of muscles. finally his wet tongue mets with it, he licks a strip from his balls to his hole, “fuck” he couldn’t hold it anymore, latching his lips on the needy hole, draggin’ his tongue around and inside it, ravaging it completely. “mr. rickyyy” yn tried to push his head away from him but to no avail, ricky just replied with a moan indicating that he wasn’t planning to stop. the masseur’s hand grabs yn’s dick and closes around it, moving it up and down, “look at you, already dripping” ricky mentions when he touches yn’s wet tip, precum dripping of it, he use it to slick the shaft and make it more pleasurable for yn.

yn leaned on his back and holded his legs, knees near his chest so ricky could keep doing wonders with his tongue, “why are y-you doing this?” yn asked, curiosity getting the best out of him but ricky responded with a simple “it’s my job, i have to make sure i did it well. not a single hair so i think i did a good one” he winked and resumed his rimjob.

minutes passed and ricky has still his face buried on yn’s ass but this time he was jerking off too, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to pull his dick out. “just put it in already, please” yn begged, he wanted to feel something bigger and thicker, ricky’s tongue was not enough for him. “what about your date from later at night?. thought you were doing this for them?”, ricky rubs the puckered hole with two fingers then introduces them and moves them in a scissors motion to open it more, “i don’t care just do it” tears threatening to spill, overwhelming feelings taking over him. “say less”.

ricky’s thick cock pummels its way, its big head opening his walls so deliciously that yn moaned loudly, asking for more, the veins around the cock scrapping yn’s walls so damn good. “ufff tonight’s situation gonna eat good” ricky jokes, positioning his hands on yn’s shoulders to pound harder. the bed moved in a rhythmic pace, squeaking caused by every thrust. “you fuck so good” yn praises, driving ricky even wilder. he discards hispants completely, his bottom half completely naked. he lies down on the bed too and position yn on his side, slapping his shaft on the other’s back entrance, “ready?” he asks, “yeah” yn responds quickly. “i’m not gonna hold back” ricky adds, “i don’t give a fuck”.

his balls slapped against the other while still shoving his dick, “i’m not gonna stop until your ass remembers the shape of my dick and would only accept mine, no one else's. sorry for your situationship”. ricky bites yn’s ear and then lick the back of his neck. yn manages to be on top this time to ride his masseur, with his hands on each side of his hips, guiding him, “you like it mr. ricky?” he sits hard “am i your best client yet” yn says pouting, with doe like eyes that immediately rolled back when ricky hit on his sweet spot, his tip scraping around it, the pleasure expanding throughout his whole body. ricky likes how feisty yn tried to be, “yes mr. ln you’re the best cockwhore i’ve ever had”. yn stops the riding session, he just sits with ricky’s dick still inside, he starts to move his hips and hump on him with all the strength left on him, this caused his hole and therefore insides to contract so tight that ricky came instantly. yn’s inside being flooded by ricky’s sticky spooge, the liquid went down ricky’s shaft and balls, dripping on the mattress, ricky gasped for air, still holding yn’s hips while riding his high, “fuck this was indeed the best fuck. i’ve never had someone to make me cum so easy” ricky praises, he stands up to clean himself and then yn.

“thank you for today, hope you enjoyed it fully” ricky thanked yn while waving goodbye, “hope i can have you here some time soon”, yn turns around and smirks at him. trust, this is not gonna be yn’s last visit to the spa, the happy ending spa.

[nowimjustastranger]

Omgg the dimension in the stcmo au where Stanley destroys his own dimension with Stanford and the dead twins in it is fkn killing me 😭 He was fully ready to die with the world, seeing that his world (the kids) had already ended anyway :(

How do you think Stanley died in the other dimension, where Stanford and the twins survived but he didn't? I also really wanna know what their reactions were to meeting each other again or if their memories were altered or not!

I love this AU to death and beyond, please never die 😔🙏

Honestly, the possibilities are endless in terms of how exactly Stan goes out (destroying Bill in the process).

And as for the relocated Stan...

Stan hit the ground and, for the first time in his life, he just stayed down. That tiny voice in the back of his head that had kept him going all these years had finally fallen silent, leaving him to drown in his overwhelming despair. He didn’t care to pick himself back up again. There was no point.

His kids were gone. Snuffed out before they could even live their lives. His brother, who he had just brought home, killed with the press of a button. He was pathetically thankful that he hadn’t been the one to activate the doomsday device, he didn’t think he could’ve lived with himself knowing that he had killed his big brother with his own hand.

Not that he had been planning to survive the explosion, which was another matter that he was just too worn down to address. Honestly, he didn’t really give a shit about the mystery man or his intentions. Even so, he should be furious that the mystery man kept him from joining his family, but he was hollowed out by the realization that he was the only one left.

Why was he always the last man standing?

He couldn’t bear to go another day without Mabel’s smile. The girl had bullied her way into his heart and carved out a space for herself, bringing enough love for the both of them with her. His sweet girl who loved glitter a little too much and drew trouble to her like a magnet, the girl who saw a sad old fuck and reminded him that life was worth living with every joke, every kind word, every laugh, every hug.

How could he possibly face another day without Dipper’s laugh? The boy had snuck into his heart not long after his sister had gotten comfortable, settling down like he had simply always been there. His brave boy who reminded Stan so much of his brother and himself, a strange amalgamation of both of them. Their best qualities put into one body.

Had he told them that he loved them? Even once? Had he ever uttered those words to his kids?

Did they die unsure of how much they meant to him? Did they die doubting that Stan loved them more than anything in the entire universe? Did they die quick or slow? Did they die scared, wanting their Grunkle to protect them from a cosmic bully? Did they die wishing that they’d never met him? Did they die cursing that they ever came to Gravity Falls–

His kids had to know that Stan would’ve given anything, struck any deal, endured any torment, killed anyone he had to so long as it meant that they got to be happy.

Stan didn't even realize he was crying until he pressed his forehead against the ground, shocked back into his own body by the soft rasp of greenery against his face. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs, hands fisted into the grass as he wailed his grief into the soil.

Grief for not telling Soos that he was like a son to him. Grief for not thanking Wendy for putting up with his shit. Grief for not telling Dipper that he was proud of him. Grief for not putting Mabel’s insecurities to rest before they could fester. Grief for waiting for a fucking ‘thank you’ instead of just hugging his damn brother like he had longed to do for the past forty years. Grief for not spending more time with all of them while he could.

As Stan’s pathetic tears finally dried up, a sound was carried on the breeze, every muscle in his body locking up as he raised his head. His brain stalled like an old engine, wide eyes staring off into the thick foliage. He was half convinced that his mind had finally fractured and he was hallucinating even as his body moved, scrambling to his feet to race through the forest.

Even if it was just a cruel trick of his mind, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not when it was his kids. And certainly not when his kids were crying. In no world could he ignore the sound of the niblings' distress. If they needed him, he’d be there. Easy as that. He would sooner light himself on fire than let them think that they couldn’t come to him with their problems, his discomfort with feelings and emotions could fuck right off.

As he got closer to the origin of the sound, he could actually make out words. His heart stuttered in his chest as he pushed himself faster and faster still because they were calling for him. They were wailing his name like two scared little kids lost in a big world that was too cruel for the likes of them. So, he answered their desperate call, just like he always would.

“Kids!”

Stan charged through the brush, erupting into a small clearing with three people standing in it. The first figure he recognized immediately as his brother, whose arm was raised to aim a triangular gun at Stan’s chest. The niblings were hidden behind him, clutching the fabric of his slacks as they peeked at Stan with huge wet eyes. Stan stumbled to a stop, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Surprisingly, no one in the clearing broke the silence, a voice ringing out from a sturdy branch in a nearby tree.

“It’s not a trick, Stanford.” A heavily modulated voice spoke as a dude in flashy getup stared down at them from his perch. In the blink of an eye, another gun was drawn from Ford’s trench coat, pointed at the man that Stan had been manhandled by earlier. His face was set with grim determination, but there was a telling shake to the hand that aimed the gun at Stan.

“You better start talkin’ or I’ll come up there n’ beat some answers outta you.” Stan demanded, sparing a glare for the stranger. He must’ve followed Stan here, which meant that he had also seen Stan blubbering like a pansy earlier. Great.

“The Stan of dimension F9-2 took his own life to defeat Bill, leaving your dimension without a Stanley Pines. Stan from dimension C40”0 was the only one to survive Weirdmageddon, his world destroyed by his brother’s last-ditch effort to kill Bill, leaving him without his family.” The stranger explained, gesturing to each brother in turn as he addressed them.

“So, you… brought him here?” Mabel tentatively piped in with a sniffle, poking her head out more, and Stan had to swallow the urge to tell her to keep out of sight. Now that he was getting a good look at the trio, he was noticing the differences, like how Ford was wearing the same suit that Stan himself currently had on, except it was far less tattered.

“I did.” The stranger confirmed with a slow nod and the niblings shared a look, communicating with just their eyes. Stan remembered when he used to do that with Ford, way back when their only worry was if they could get one last game of pirates in before they were called home for dinner. Stan hadn’t been that close to Ford since middle school, back before a yawning chasm of distance opened between them.

“Who are you?” Ford growled, his eyes narrowed as he shifted most of his attention to the stranger, who tilted his head in a predatory manner that made the hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. Stan let his arms slowly drop down to his sides since the gun that had been aimed at him had been lowered slightly, Ford clearly prioritizing the bigger threat.

“A concerned third party.” The stranger said, not missing a beat before he shifted his weight to fall backward. He disappeared in the blink of an eye only to reappear right behind Stan, who squawked in alarm and outrage as one hand seized the back of his neck while the other pointed a weird gun behind them to open another colorful gateway. Stan threw an elbow back at the stranger, who caught it with practiced ease after swiftly holstering the gun.

“But if you’re unwilling to house him in your dimension–” The stranger began, before being unceremoniously interrupted by two small bodies darting out from the safety that Ford's body provided and throwing themselves at Stan.

“No! You can’t have Grunkle Stan! Please don’t take him away!” Mabel wailed with no small amount of terror, her tiny arms struggling to fit around Stan’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Dipper was no better, quite literally sitting on Stan’s shoe in order to cling to his right leg with all four of his limbs while he begged the stranger to let Stan stay with them.

“Hey, hey… I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Stan soothed, voice lowered to a low rasp as he abandoned his effort to get the bastard behind him to let go in favor of getting a hand on each of the kids. One of his hands went to Dipper’s head while the other pressed against Mabel’s hitching back, the two pressing into the contact like they were starving for it. Stan turned his head just enough to level the visor of the stranger’s helmet with a dark look, daring him to disagree. “Right, pal?”

“Depends on him.” The stranger retorted, pointedly nodding at Ford, who had taken to aiming the gun directly at the stranger’s helmet. Thankfully, the portal had closed on its own, shrinking out of existence, and as a result, Ford’s posture had visibly lost some tension. Stan figured that it was because the kids had been in danger of going through with him had the stranger followed through with his threat.

“My brother stays.” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, something bordering on manic in his eyes. Stan noticed that Ford’s hand wasn’t shaking this time, his aim perfectly steady. Stan wasn’t sure why this stood out to him until he recalled that Ford’s hand had been trembling earlier when he had the gun pointed at Stan, which was far more shocking than it should’ve been.

“If you ever hurt Stan… I’ll be back and you will never see him again.” The stranger warned, drawing the weird sci-fi gun in a dark blur and firing it off to the side, smoothly stepping into the swirl of colors before both the stranger and the portal were gone. Stan stood there dumbly, staring at the empty space where the portal used to be until his attention was redirected to the warm body that crashed into him.

Stan yelped as he went down in a heap of flailing limbs, instinctively struggling as strong arms wound around his body. However, Stan froze when he heard a choked sob, blankly staring up at the cloudless blue sky in utter disbelief as Ford broke down in tears. Ford’s face was buried in the crook of Stan’s neck, his glasses digging into skin, but Stan didn’t care because he was clinging to him and the kids just as tightly.

And if his eyes were wet and his cheeks damp, it was just allergies.

[bisexualbrainrots]

I've been thinking about these two, and like, it intrigues me how the weight of their experiences and some core elements (most likely) added to the breakup.

Like, just from canon alone I see that Tommy carries some weight on his shoulders from the person he used to be and his journey regarding his sexuality. He did hurt others by engaging in bigoted behavior in the past (and changed, which is good!). He probably spent at least a decade in the closet, figuring who he was and suffered from a comphet that made him almost marry a woman. Plus he's been out for less than 10 years and (possibly) didn't feel comfortable enough with himself until he got a clean slate. And he probably didn't have support when he came out, but that's a headcanon. I think this made him project that onto Buck, even if he didn't mean to.

And Buck's journey is nothing like Tommy's (from what we've seen).

Buck definitely carries wounds regarding his self-worth, he is somebody who thinks he's both too much and not enough. He didn't grow up in a supportive household, and the only person who did support him left. His sexual awakening, from what we saw, was a very different experience than what he's used too. He had people with him, he was immediately supported and told it didn't change how others saw him. The weight of his sexuality looks to be light, there seems to be barely any struggle, unlike Tommy. And I think it made Buck underestimate how bad it probably was for Tommy before.

Adding to that, there are also other elements to them that led to this mess.

Buck is impulsive, acts without thinking and doesn't grasp the consequences of his actions until they blow up on his face. And Tommy seems to act on self-preservation, he guards himself from danger and pain and acts on it. And it plays against them.

I think Buck's self-worth issues hit hard when he learned about the engagement, but not for that in itself.

I remember he actually looked intrigued when Tommy said he almost married a woman, and it wasn't until he knew it was Abby that he was put off and spiraled (side note: I hate the way they decided to canonize the Abby theory). It was that idea that if Tommy hurt someone Buck loved, then who's to say he wouldn't do the same to him, someone's who's "too much"?

I also think Buck's impulsivity set off Tommy's self-preservation alarms. Add that the (possible) projection he put onto him and it's no wonder Tommy ran, because, if he has hurt people before then who's to say Evan wouldn't do the same one day? If Evan's pace is fast then who's to say the relationship won't be too?

It's just, ughh there's so many layers I could peel off from this but it's also very much a stretch in my head.

Anyways, thanks for reading this? I don't know if it made any sense but hey, it doesn't really need to.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

The MOMENT I laid eyes on that rollbar I thought "Huh! How Caterham-like!", lol. Turns out I know my favorite car well.

Funnily enough, the Caterham Seven has been given a sleeker body before, by Caterham themselves no less, and this new year marks 21 years since that happened. And given the result was named Caterham 21, and specifically because Caterham had been making Sevens for 21 years by then, this would be a very funny coincidence if I hadn't planned it.

Okay, there is to say the name may also have been influenced by the goal of making something like the legendary Lotus Eleven racecar...

...but enough dwelling, let's get you a picture of what this thing looks like!

Oh, what's that there?

But that's my blogpost on it I wrote eight years ago, on the news section (bafflingly) of automotive publication Car Throttle!

"Wait, you wrote published automotive articles eight years ago?"

Well, not really.

See, Car Throttle did have an articles section, but at heart it was a car-centered social media platform. There were larger, more structured posts in the "Blog" community, and the editors sometimes picked the better ones and shared them in the Official Featured Articles Of The Staff Whose Job It Is To Do This section. And a couple of my posts were picked, which at my then tender age of [too young for unsupervised internet networking] was an inconceivable honor.

But then at some point they decided, I believe to quote the chief, their attempt "to make the Facebook for cars" was ill-conceived, because "the Facebook for cars was already Facebook", and the platform pivoted to just being a news outlet. And, infuriatingly, pretending they never were a social to begin with. Forget preserving the posts, we weren't even given a tool, a deadline, a warning for archival. Posting ability was removed and everything was just hidden and hushed away slowly and gradually enough to frogboil away all attention before deleting all those posts I and countless others poured heart and soul into.

Except the Editor's Picks - a layout change could make those look like proper articles and pad their offerings. Clicking the author name leads to a cryptic "Forum" section. No mention of upvotes -embarrassing memories- but the comments are there, they make it look like a visited website. Who's this blank circle? Can't click the username. Who are they tagging? Page wasn't found. How do all these commenters seemingly know each other? Good luck googling them. Now visit our shop.

So, in the spirit of fuck that, here is that article remastered for Tumblr - a platform that, for all its ills, refuses to shut its doors in the face of all sense and all the internet rowing against its model of a free, unalgorithmic feed where all forms of content are welcome.

Fair warning: you'll need to be up to speed with the story of the Seven itself. Here's the link again - last chance!

Caterham did something other than the Seven? Yep. This is the 1994-1999 Caterham 21, the only other production Caterham. It was pretty much a more comfortable, everyday-use Seven.

What's with that crazy silver look? That's the aluminum prototype. The production version was made out of fiberglass, and looked like this:

Hold up… Why do those taillights look familiar? Well, you know how it is with small sportscars... and when the design team cruised the motorway looking for lights that would suit the design...

And the parts sharing doesn't end there either.

And what about the interior? Was it comfortable? More than the Seven, of course (in the end, that was its goal): It had more creature comforts, such as proper doors, actual glass windows (which, as a trade-off, didn’t roll down), a dashboard that actually looks like the product of design work, and a soft-top you closed rather than assembled. Though comfort was still one of its weaker points.

Why so? Isn’t it a lot wider? Where did all the extra width go? Well…

Yes, this is for real. You could have a football match on those sills.

Engine-wise? UK car industry experts are waiting for me to say it - and indeed, the almost stereotypical Rover K-series engine (found from the Land Rover Freelander to the FSO Polonez and a wealth of little British sportscars in between) was offered either as a 1.6 (offering 1or as a 1.8.

Oh, yeah, and it had one of those cool forward-opening bonnets, since the whole front was a single piece so good luck with any other way.

Any specs? Plenty.

The 115hp 1.6 reached 60mph (for yankees, that's the same) in 6.4 seconds and carried on to 118 (for non-yankees, that's 190km/h). That's a pretty low top speed, but these cars were always oriented towards acceleration and lower-speed roads. If you wanted more though, the 1.6 Supersport upped the power to 138, lowered the 0-60 to 5.8 and reached 131 (210km/h). The 1.8 started at 122hp but its Supersport variant developed 138... and the Supersport R 190, rocketing to 60 in 4.5 seconds. But those are very rare.

How was the sound? Better than a Viper’s. At least, according to Mike Rutherford from this Men and Motors segment from 1998. If you want to spare yourself some ear-piercing music, skip to 2 minutes for the bold claim and some chatting with Jez Coates (Caterham’s technical director) about how they managed that.

How did that power get to the wheels? As standard, it had the Ford Type 9 transmission, the one you’d find in a MKIII Capri or a Sierra, though a Caterham-made six-speed gearbox was offered as an option. It also had a limited-slip differential, of course.

So, how was it like to drive? Probably better than the Seven: the chassis was 50% stiffer, the wheels were further apart and the suspension was tweaked for a better ride. And while it was bigger and heavier than the Seven it was based on, we’re still talking about less than 4 meters and 1500 pounds (for Europeans, that's about 1800 euros at today's exchange- wait no).

Oh, and then there was the GTO, a racing version with the Seven R500's 1.8l engine. Some specs? 230 hp, 0-100 in 3,8 seconds, and all in 1994.

And, as if it wasn’t mad enough already, it later received the Levante’s V8 - supercharged to 500 hp! In a car that weighs not much more than that in kilograms!

Wow, what a cool car! How come it failed to replace the Seven? That was never its goal! The production was already meant to be limited to 200 cars a year. Which of course, multiplied by the five years it was sold-

Lightnings strike. Thunders echo. Typhoons blow. Lotuses handle. But their quest to revive the Seven's ethos called for much more than coasting on that fact of life. They pushed aluminium manufacturing itself to new bounds to create a chassis less Seven tier rigid and more seven times that. The engineers' pursuit of lightness was so absurd that their own electric window mechanisms were lighter than their supplier's manual ones. The result was a beautiful mid-engined sportscar with proper development budget about as light as the 21 and only £200 more than its base version, which it beat in 0-60, top speed and being preassembled. Yeah.

It was the raw British performers' iPod. Compact, light, capable, yet refined, simple and comfortable to use... a great enough product to push its brand away from the edge of hasbeendom and towards a new renaissance, ushering in a boom of its category... which was really more a boom of just itself, given how few other real beneficiaries there were.

Sure, you could buy a Morgan if your tophat stayed on during sex. You could buy a TVR if your views on ergonomics aligned with The Joker's. You could even buy a Creative Nomad Jukebox. But then, you'd still probably want a car with a radio to plug it into. So, while yearly Elise production, targeting 750, peaked at 5000 (or, spot the theme, seven times that), not 50 Caterham 21s were ever produced. Of which just two were Supersport Rs. I told you they were rare.

But that still doesn't explain it, does it? Sure, the Elise might've made it redundant at best and even stolen its spotlight when first showcased in '95, but the 21 still had a full year when the Elise was but a rumor, so surely, at least for the briefest while, there was room to shine for the idea of a plusher take on the cheap, basic British sportscar recipe, ri-

Yep. The 1989, or 1990 depending on your address, Mazda Miata. The iPod of the British sportscar. And no, I'm not refuting my first use of this analogy. The original concept behind the Miata was putting the ethos of the traditional British roadster in a package so usable the everyman could have it not just as their weekend car but as their only car. The original concept behind the Elise was updated because of pesky regulations to, ugh, have doors. We are talking about two very different levels of commitment there - and by extension two very different breadths of potential customers. To clarify: the uproarious success of the Elise led to the production of a whole 55 thousand between its every variant when production stopped in 2021. That's half of all cars Lotus ever made in its seven decades. In 2016, Mazda produced its millionth Miata.

Yeah.

And sure, the 21 was much lighter and faster than the Miata, but those who wanted that enough to both pay a £3k premium and put up with an unreliable, temperamental handmade British car, but not enough to go for the even lighter and faster Seven were evidently... not enough.

Which is a shame, really, isn't it? However much I may love the Seven's looks, I'm not blind to them being... let's use "polarizing". To have something not just more conventionally attractive, but also much more approachable (you know, things like knowing you won't have to frantically fiddle with two dozen buttons if it starts to drizzle) could, for the right person, not just make the proposition more appealing, but be what pushes it into the reign of justifiability.

Right, it sucks for those people! Now that it’s a rarity, prices must be sky-high… Well, you’re about to be pleasantly surprised: those Caterhams you saw above are actually up for sale, and with prices that rival used Sevens, too!

Okay, that was eight years ago, but from what I've been able to tell any time a 21's gone on sale since then the price has closer to the first figure than the second - when not lower still!

And that's the end of the article, engagement prompts aside. That transition from small edits to a whole new section was pretty jarring, eh. Writer improves after third of life. More at 7.

Anyhow, here's your first post of the year - and here's to one more year here on Tumblr, making the kind of content every other social platform welcomes as merrily as the plague.

Thank you all for sticking around for it. Means a lot.

Scoperta, 2024, by Camal Studio. A sports car based on the Caterham Seven is to be offered by Turin-based design studio. The cars will cost €150,000

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

When You Were Mine

Summary: You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter, the proprietor of one of the most frequented pleasure houses on the street of silk. On Prince Aemond’s thirteenth name day, you strike up a friendship that is everlasting, developing into something far more sweeter as you grow into adults.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: smut (p in v sex, oral- f receiving, female masturbation), mentions of sex work, loss of virginity, angst, talk of character death, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 8K+

Author’s Note: First time writing in second person. I always felt a little unsettled on how Aemond lost his virginity. This is a more tender take on it. This also got a little away from me, so the length is just a bonus. I may write again in this world if anyone is interested! 

Dividers done by: @firefly-graphics

You are the daughter of the madam. 

Everyone in the pleasure house has respected the presence of your tender life running about the house asking for sweets and spinning about in your silk dresses. You have many mothers here who dote on you. You are a prize, a little sweet prize pulled from your mother’s womb when she was just aging out of tending to the needs of the gentlemen in this place of pleasure..

Your mother makes sure you are in bed before anything truly lewd begins during the evening, but as the years weigh on she can not keep you still. You are too curious about the work she does. Of course she keeps you safe in her chambers. Her services have not been called on for many many years, whatever that is to mean. 

You play alone at times, though the younger girls seem to be keen to keep you company between their little dances and performances. Your mother checks in on you making sure you are fed and well taken care of. That you have enough toys to play with or sheets to color on. 

You are brushing your doll’s hair under your mother’s bed. Sometimes the candlelight is too bright and warm. Underneath the bed feels like a little cave for you to hide yourself. 

The curtains flutter, you can see it from your cozy position. You can hear the soft music drift through. The curtains expose the darkness outside your mother’s room. Part of you wishes you could watch what happens outside these walls, but you know it isn’t safe. 

She has said it is not safe. 

The boots are heavy on the ground, dragging like the steps of boys. Your mother’s delicate laced up flat sandals also peak through, stopping steadily in the room.  

“I shall return soon, my prince.” You can see her lean close to the black clad leather studded feet. “Please make yourself comfortable.” 

The curtains flutter again as your mother’s quickened steps leave. You are left alone with the shifting boots and the prince attached to them. You lay on your stomach tucking the doll with pretty knotted hair close to your heart as if shielding her from the dirty feet. You try to control your breathing so as not to alert the boy who now is pacing back and forth at the side of the bed. He settles on the bed, close to you swinging his legs nearly hitting your forehead. 

You give out a small whimper when he does make contact with your curious skin. 

He stops. 

He settles to the floor. 

He looks under the bed lifting up every silken sheet. 

He is a Targaryen prince. 

He is the very definition in the stories the young women have told you when your mother is busy entertaining and you require a bedtime tale. 

He has pale freckle peppered skin. His hair is a blinding white blonde that is nearly silver. You can see one eye, a lucid liquidly blue, but the other eye is covered with a brown leather eye patch. 

This is Prince Aemond Targayen. 

“What are you doing under here?” He demands in a voice most princely. 

You are annoyed by how he is treating you in your home. 

“What are you doing here?” You hiss with narrow eyes. You hold your doll closer. 

Immediately you see him flush. His face reddens bright as the summer sun. He stammers, but can not seem to muster words that make sense. His grip on the sheets speaks for him. 

He is nervous. 

“Come under here. You can hide from her.” You say pulling at his shirt feeling only a little sorry for him. 

He folds into the suggestion quite quickly. 

You suspect he does not want to be here. 

He perhaps would like to be anywhere else in the world. 

The young Targayen prince shifts closer to you under the bed. His breath is hot and bothersome. It smells like cake, sweet strawberries and strong vanilla. It makes you wish you were a princess. They must get all sorts of sweet treats every day. 

“I didn’t want to come. He made me. My brother.” He nearly pouts, tucking his hands under his head as he lays on his side looking at you. “Is the madam your mother?” You merely nod. “Did she forget you were here?” 

You look over the prince. 

The young prince is your age. 

Perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age. 

You smile as you shake your head. 

“She knows I’m here. She never brings anyone here.” 

It takes a moment for him to realize what it all means because he does not know your mother as you do. 

He is meant to be your friend. 

“Hold, Nymeria.” You thrust your dark haired doll at the prince as you crawl further under the bed. 

There is a small stack of tomes you have kept here. You pull one forward tickling the well worn pages full of colorful illustrations about war, love, and dragons. You pull it to the princeling who is running his fingers through the doll’s knotted hair.

 “Will you read to me? Or better yet teach me to read for myself? I want to know what’s in these books.” 

His eye brightens, exchanging the doll for the tome. He struggles to open it under the bed, but manages. He thumbs through it as you watch with rapt curiosity. Many of the women that work here do not know how to read and make up tales from the pictures inside. You know this because the stories are different then when your mother opens the tomes. 

She can read quite well. 

“Yes, of course.” He looks over the words and begins to open his mouth. He squints at the page. “It is dark down here. Perhaps,” He looks upward then to you with a small glimmer of happiness in his bright eye. “We can read by candle light. Above?” 

The question is one of asking. He wants to know if it is safe to return to the world outside your secret cave. You are so desperate to hear the stories your mother has not told you yet that you scurry to leave the darkness and head into the light. 

You both settle on top of the bed. 

Sometimes you forget how hard the floor is when you are on the dipping mattress. The princling takes off his boots slowly, careful to put them side by side. Before he settles on top of the bouncing bed as you eagerly await him and the tome, he pauses. 

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen.” He holds his hand out to you very formally. 

You shake it stating your name. When he hears it he smiles. 

Perhaps he would like a friend as well. 

He crawls to the bed, settling the book heavy between you, spread out wide in yellowed dog eared pages. He runs his fingers over the words indicating to you that it is a table of contents meaning it is a list of all the stories within the book. He reads out all the story titles to you, making sure you see each word and letter. He speaks slowly as well, not in a way that is to make you feel inferior, but a way to ensure that you may soon be able to read along. 

He is teaching you. 

He is allowing you to select a story to read, together. 

“That one!” You declare when he reads out a title about an ancient warrior queen. Your mother always told you that tale was too violent, but you always secretly looked at the pictures. They were red soaked images featuring bodies being ripped apart or drowning in sea battles. 

“I thought you may like that one.” He smiles as you hold your doll close to your chest, the namesake of the tale Prince Aemond is about to tell. 

He turns to the middle of the book. The pages are heavy, but he seems not to struggle. Perhaps he reads all the time. He seems very good at turning pages and reading the words on each page. Even the most difficult ones you do not know the meaning of and ask about each time. He seems to have an explanation ready at hand. He seems very happy to explain the words to you. 

You decide you like Prince Aemond very much when he does not mind explaining to you the meaning of ancient words for different weapons. You even grab some paper to allow him to draw what they look like. He seems very engaged and elated to draw you a morningstar. You decide that if you were going to go into battle that would be your weapon. It is very pointed. 

Page after page you are taken over by the story and transported to ancient times with long fought battles. The prince interjects his own insight as he has begun to train himself. You are convinced he will make a fine warrior someday. He down plays himself saying he is still learning. 

“I will not be as grand as Nymeria.” He flushes a bit running his fingers over the beautiful illustration of the fair and fierce queen. 

“But you have Vhagar.” You point out. “The largest, oldest dragon, nothing would stop you in battle. You have fire at your command.” 

He blinks at you swallowing. 

You wonder if you have said something wrong. 

Perhaps he does not want to be reminded of the dragon. Maybe he is afraid of the beast. She is quite large and fierce. She can not even be contained in the confines of the dragon pit; she is so cumbersome. 

You think that could easily be a lonely life for her. 

“Does Vhagar get lonely?” You ask tilting your head so your hair falls sideways. “Like us?” 

“I am not lonely!” He starts to close the tome, but you stop him. 

“Wait, apologies, my prince.” You pull the cover open. He does not stop you. “I didn’t mean to think you were lonely, I was merely wondering if . . . well . . . Vhagar is different. She is large, too large for the dragon pit so perhaps she is sad without other dragons.” 

“She has me.” The princling confirms pressing the pages flat. “And I have her. We are not lonely because we have each other.” 

You think that is sweet. That a dragon and a boy can find comfort in each other. You look to his eye, the one covered in leather. There is a rumor that the Gods took Prince Aemond’s eye and replaced it with a dragon. 

“Do you miss it? Your eye?” You are thirteen and do not care if you are asking too many questions. You are truly curious. 

“Sometimes, yes.” He shrugs. He runs his fingers over the bottom of the patch, over the reddened scar. “Hmmm,” He looks at you. “You won’t be scared I think.” 

You are not confused by what he means. You immediately know. He holds the patch itself. The prince hesitates as if thinking better of himself, but then continues. He pulls it off revealing the scar fully. It travels through the eye socket in a red meaty scar. In the eye’s place is a perfectly reflective blue sapphire. You blink, a smile spreading across your face as you shift closer. 

You do not think it grotesque as many maidens would. 

Instead you think it -

“It’s beautiful!” You say it louder than you meant to. Your heart warms at his tender and relieved smile. 

“You really think so?” Prince Aemond asks so tenderly you are sure they are the sweetest words any boy has ever formed together. 

“Of course. It suits you.” Your fingers twitch to feel. 

“Yes, please, go ahead.” His words stumble out. 

You are unsure. You suddenly remember yourself in this moment. 

You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter. 

You are not meant to intermingle with princes. To ask to be taught to read. To listen to his perfectly crafted voice. You are not meant to demand things like seeing his worst moment etched in a devilish scar. You are not meant to be so taken by the placement of the sapphire in his missing eye you feel giddy. 

You certainly should not be touching his face. 

But he asked. 

He begged you to touch his scar. 

So you do. 

Your fingers run softly like a ghost, a whispering wind over his brow. The wound is deep. It is healed in ridgid places feeling like little bumps and tears. The skin feels cool under your fingers. Your pads are about to fully trace the dip to his socket when the curtain flutters. 

Your mother says your name with a shout. 

“You should not be touching the prince!” Your mother pulls her robe tighter around herself marching to the bed. 

“I asked her too. She was only obeying me!” The prince is quick to defend you. 

His new friend. 

Your mother looks between you then at the book on the bed. There is a ghost of a smile that comes to life fully at seeing you and the prince behaving as children should. 

“Have you found friendship in each other?” Your mother sits in front of you on the bed looking at the pages of the story you should not be reading. You flush in apology, eyes downcast. “I am not mad. You are thirteen. You will know of violence in this world. That I can not shield you from my precious dove.” She plays with your hair, sharing a soft private moment with you. 

“Prince Aemond was teaching me to read.” You say fluttering your lashes innocently. Your mother continues to stroke your face, contentment on hers. 

“Is that so?” She asks and gives you, her precious daughter, a sweet kiss on the forehead. “It is the young prince’s birthday. He is now thirteen. His brother believes him to be a man today.” 

You see your mother purposely not looking at the prince, but you do. You see him look down shifting uncomfortably. He plays with his fingers, lacing them then unlacing them, together then apart. 

“Is that why you smell like cake?” You ask with a tilt. 

It seems to melt his nervousness. 

“The maids made me strawberry and vanilla. A small one just for me. Mother forgot I do not like chocolate. Aegon likes chocolate.” He is ready for an explanation. 

“I like strawberries and vanilla too.” You declare exchanging a smile with the prince. 

“Madam Sylvi?” The princling asks lacing his fingers together. 

“I will tell your brother lies. You only need to confirm it.” Your mother says. 

He nods. 

You are unsure what it all means, but you know you will understand this someday. 

“I shall stay with you two a while longer to keep up appearances, but please, my prince, continue to read to my darling daughter.” Your mother brushes her fingers through a chunk of your tangled hair. “She has a sharp mind that is not meant for this life.” 

There is a sadness in your mother’s voice as she looks upon you. 

She has always told you she wishes for a better life for you. 

She wants you to read, to explore, to be doted on by someone special who loves you. 

“What shall we read next, little dove?” Prince Aemond shifts closer to you. 

You smile at your new friend as he smiles back proudly showing his unclothed eye. 

“Read me a tale of dragons.” 

Aemond is a frequent visitor of your mother’s house of pleasure as the pair of you grow into adults. His brother thinks he has clung to the taker of his virginity when in truth the middle prince has not lost it. 

He did not lose it that night to your mother like so many whisper over. He does not lose it anytime he comes to the pleasure palace. The prince remains chaste and a gentleman. Instead he comes seeking a different kind of pleasure. 

He comes seeking you. 

His little dove. 

At first he would bring books and ancient tomes from the library in the Red Keep. He would read you stories about ancient battles and prophecies. He would teach you how to read out the simplest words aloud and sound out the more difficult titles. When you have mastered the skills of reading he listens to you read aloud. He is prone to putting his head in your lap as you play with his growing long straight strands. Most nights he falls asleep listening to you name dragons and their riders aloud sometimes sleepily listing them along with you. 

When you have mastered the common language, he begins to teach you High Valyrian, the ancient language of Old Valyria. It is a difficult language to learn especially since it takes you so long to learn how to roll your tongue with the exotic words. He has squeezed your face so many times to assist you in the language that your jaw has begun to hurt. 

You began to learn a few words and even some phrases.

Every time he hears you speak in the ancient lanaguage he swells with pride. 

It is much like every time you read a story to him. 

He has taken to removing his eye patch every time he enters the room, your mother’s room which she keeps you hidden away in. It has become your hide away with Aemond. He has only recently insisted you drop the prince title when referring to him. 

“The whole world sees me as a prince, little dove.” He touches your face as he says this. “With you I wish to be Aemond. Only Aemond if it pleases you.” 

You are not sure he knows, but it does please you. 

It pleases you greatly to be his friend.

It pleases you greatly that he wants to share his singular name with you. 

While Aemond has grown into a talented, well educated and well trained noble prince, you have developed into a lively beauty prone to intelligent conversations and feeling music enrapture you. Your body is now well settled from growing your lush curves and bountiful bosom. You know yourself greatly and have confidence in your looks. It causes some patrons to ask your mother for you. 

“My daughter is not a whore.” Your mother tells them. 

They keep asking hoping for a different answer. 

One day the prince hears someone ask for you. 

They offer a hefty sum, a giant coin purse. 

“She is mine.” Aemond tells the man asserting himself forward in a way you have never seen him.

He pulls you quickly into the privacy of your mother’s quarters. There is bubbling rage that makes his fists open and close. It is similar to when he was a boy, lacing and unlacing his fingers. 

“Aemond.” You call out settled on the bed. 

“No man will ever touch you.” He says through gritted teeth. 

He is pacing. The anger makes your body hum with gratitude. He has protected you. With his declaration he has ensured that no one will ever ask to bed you again. You are still pure. Your mother has made sure of that and now so has Aemond. Your prince. 

“Someone will touch me someday.” You inform him. 

His head snaps to you. His eye is wide with sudden realization. You are not an innocent little dove anymore. You are a woman grown. A beauty that is sure to bring a kind and gentle man to your door. If not your beauty, your beautiful curious nature is too sweet not to have a man falling in love with you so surely he would do anything for you. 

“Do you want to be touched?” He looks you over. There is a shiver that runs through your body to your core. 

You want to say you want him to touch you. 

“I want you to touch me, Aemond.” You were never good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

It is like the first time you met. 

You forget yourself. 

You are Madam Sylvi’s daughter. 

You can not demand to be touched by -

“Where?” You see him. You truly see him now. His living eye begins to tear. The joyous kind of an echo of a tear reflects in his eye. His sapphire eye nearly comes alive as well as he kneels before you. “Where do you want me to touch you?” It is a near panic as if you will change your mind. 

Your heart is caught in your throat as you hear his needy question. 

You do not know. 

You do not know the answer, yet it floods out of you like a possession. 

“Everywhere.” 

The panic rolls off of him still. He does not know either where he wants to touch you. You part your legs for him wearing a lovely white silk gown that looks nearly grey in the fiery candlelight. He slots his head and torso between your thighs. Aemond’s hand moves the soft fabric on your right thigh up to reveal plush dips and curves of your skin. 

He runs his hands over it squeezing you gently before he dips his lips to kiss you. 

There. 

On the softest part of your legs you feel a prince’s lips, your prince’s lips tickle you. 

They are wet. 

You are wet. 

“Aemond.” You say his name as his kisses trail upwards. He is giving your thigh open mouthed kisses as he kneads your flesh, hungry and thankful. 

“Ñuha jorrāelagon.” You are taken over by how good his kisses feel running up your thigh. It pierces straight to your core that your mind struggles to translate the phrase. 

My love.

It is not right. 

But it seems so very right. 

Feels so very right. 

His fingers tease the crease between your thigh and pelvis. He is so very hot and heavy in breath, licking at the peak of your mound. Your small clothes cover you there. You can not think if you prefer them clothed or if you would rather Aemond peel them away from your sweat drenched body. 

“Ñuha dārilaros.” My Prince.

Your pronunciation is not quite right as you feel so many emotions and physical sensations right now your High Valyrian pronunciation is the furthest thing from your mind. You are trying to stop from falling back to the bed, legs spread like the whore your mother claimed you not to be. 

Perhaps you are only a whore for Aemond Targaryen. 

“Renigon nyke.” It is better. It is desperate. 

Touch me. 

“I would spend the rest of my days obeying that order.” He says smoothing his hand on your upper thigh. He peers up at you. He watches you try to catch your breath. He watches how much you want him. How much you have always wanted him. 

You realize that now. 

There has been a growing infactuation starting from that very day he peered under your mother’s bed. It started out as simple friendship. Two lonely little children misunderstood by the overarching world. With the years, with understanding each other, it has churned into more. It has become something grand and wide spreading, a warm feeling in your chest that is now spreading between your legs. 

“Hmmm . . .you are wet.” He hums. 

“I am sorry -” You flush embarrassed but his lips are on your soaked small clothes suckling before you can respond. 

Instead you shutter and feel like someone has taken your breath from your body. 

You have never had so many goose pimples in your life. 

“Wet is good.” His fingers are now palming your core through the fabric of your small clothes.. “Wet means you enjoy what I am doing to you.” You nod. 

You remember a book he brought to you about bodies, sex, and arousal. You had been too nervous to read it in front of him, but he had kept it close to his chest. You realize now he probably studied it for a moment such as this. 

“Would you like to kiss me?” Your heart flutters at the question on your lips. 

Surely a prince would not like - 

He kisses you before you have a chance to change your mind. 

You never would. 

He holds the back of your neck threading his fingers through your beautiful locks. His lips are so soft and inviting. Your lips part in a little gasping breath. He moves his lips, opening and closing them to take you in. He’s so warm. His other hand remains on your trembling thigh as he kisses you with the need to never stop. You welcome him trying to meet his passion tenfold. 

It is not a prince you are kissing in this moment. 

It is your friend. 

It is your Aemond. 

Yours and yours alone. 

In that moment you belong to each other and nothing else matters. 

You welcome his small touches. 

The pair of you are not as intense as the night he claimed you as his, when he kissed your thigh and kissed you with such need and fury it made your lips ache and burn red. Both of you had kissed so hungrily that night your lips were too sore to do anything else. You and he just laid side by side watching each other, giggling at the giddiness of the moment. 

You hold hands as you read to one another. He takes care to stroke your cheek gently when he looks upon you. He whispers words you do not know but begin to learn in High Valyrian. 

Gevie. Beautiful.

Ñuha prūmia. My Heart.

Ñuhon. Mine.

You wonder if he has always been this taken with you. 

He tells you truthfully when you ask. 

“I have always loved you a little. It has grown so deeply since that first day.” 

Perhaps you understand this more than anyone. 

He leaves you in small chunks of time when he is overtraining his body to show off to his nephews who are to return. The nephews who belittled him and gifted him a pig as a dragon. You have not ever been teased, but can imagine his pain. You see his pain in the form of a missing eye. An eye one of those nephews took from him. 

You understand his desire to be as sharp as a knife. 

He wants his body to be ready should they ever try to belittle him again. 

You are happy to give him over to the training. 

But so very sad when you do not see him for months. 

You are more sad that you are missing his touch. 

Instead you experiment for the first time. You attempt to touch yourself as he touched you. You start by journeying up your thigh. You trail soft kneading touches. You imagine they are his hands. 

Where else would you want him? 

Everywhere. You remember saying

You can not fathom him on any other part of your body that would feel better than his lips sucking on your small clothes. Perhaps maybe on your core directly. You blush thinking as you stroke over your small clothes. You bring your fingers to your lips sucking on them. It will make it easier to pretend it is his tongue on your core. 

You dip your fingers under the fabric on your core laid back spread on the bed missing your friend, hoping the next time you see him you can ask for more. You stroke yourself, finding the wetness of your fingers causes you to sigh. You find a small bud between your core and tease it gently. 

You arch your back at the feeling it gives you. You leak wet hot arousal between your fingers. 

Your mother shouts your name entering through the curtains. 

Your face flushes embarrassed as gravity settles you down from your high. 

You wipe your wet fingers on your dress and squeeze your thighs together hoping it will ease the pulsing you still feel. 

It helps very little. 

“Do not be embarrassed of pleasuring yourself, daughter.” This perhaps makes you more embarrassed. “It is a natural thing to wish to feel pleasure.” 

You look down at your fingers slightly pruned from your desire. The release you felt was incredible and exhilarating. Perhaps she is right. Feeling good, as good as this, is a marvel. 

“I have come to share some news. Your prince is looking for Prince Aegon. He was just at the door now. He said he would visit soon.” She pauses looking at you, taking your hands softly. “There is a rumor the king is dead.” You feel saddened. Aemond did not speak much of his father, but the loss will surely devastate him in some way. “They speak of putting Aegon on the throne.” 

You slip your hands from your mother’s. You know what this means. There is to be a war. The king’s firstborn would not stand to see her half-brother on the throne. 

Battle lines will be drawn. 

Houses will be fought for. 

Marriage pacts . . .

He was not betrothed. 

Young, dashing Prince Aemond Targaryen was a free suitor.

A pawn to be used should houses need a push from one side to the other. 

It is not the thought of Aemond going to war that frightens you, but the idea that he may share a bed with another woman. 

That he may take a wife. 

“Oh my sweet girl.” Your mother wipes tears that you did not know were there from your face. “Come here, my little love.” She embraces you as silent tears fall from your sweet innocent face. “It is troublesome to fall in love with a prince.” 

You think this is true. 

Days after King Viserys’ death, Aemond arrives on a stormy night. 

You are on the bed propped up with pillows. You read through a book on Aegon the Conqueror considering how he took two wives, both sisters. He arrives in your mother’s chambers, to you, soaked to the bone, water running off his leathers and through his long flat hair. His eye patch is already abandoned, the sapphire reflects the flickering candles. 

“Aemond.” You whisper closing the book. 

You have known him too long not to notice the sad confusion in his face. 

“I did not mean it.” It is the boy you hear. The one who laid with you under your mother’s bed. The one who taught you how to read. That boy is scared. 

“Come here, my love.” You shift to welcome him onto your lap. He crawls onto the bed in damp clothes. 

“I did not mean it.” He grabs onto you as an anchor. The soft part of your thigh is so warm and welcoming that he nuzzled his face there. 

“What didn’t you mean? Tell me, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You are done chasing away how you feel about him. You love him, it is too plain to see. You stroke his hair in the most loving way you know how.

“Lucerys.” 

You already know what has happened. 

You already know blood has been drawn in such a short time. 

You do not pause as you pet his damp hair. He nuzzles you close. 

“It is alright. It will be alright.” You assure him. You must assure him. Not because it is your duty as a smallfolk to bluster your prince, but it is your honor as his friend, his love. Whatever he is to you. 

Your heart. 

“It will not be.” He holds onto your thigh as though you might stop your sweet embrace as he speaks. “I am to be married.” 

This causes pause. 

Lucerys’ death was not devastating to you. He had hurt your prince so you felt nothing for the boy but disdain. It is no matter to you that he is dead. 

But a marriage . . . 

Your heart grieves for a future you were never meant to have. 

“I do not wish it.” He says snuggling you close. He breathes in your scent. He clings to you for comfort in this miserable moment. You ease him. It is what you know how to do. It is what you want to do by petting his soft hair and pulling him closer to your body. “I want you. I only ever want you.” 

Out loud he appears to be a grieving boy in need of physical affection. 

In your heart, you hear it differently, you hear true undying desperation to have you. 

“I want it to be with you.” He turns to lay on his back looking up at you. “My first time. I do not want it to be with the Baratheon girl. I want it to be with you, ñuha prūmia.” He reaches up to stroke your face. His thumb trails over your lower lip, plump and ready for him. 

You could never deny him. 

You will never deny him. 

You are his heart. 

He is your heart. 

You reach down and kiss him. His lips are wet with need and hunger to finally take you as he wants. You want him too. You have envisioned this moment in your deep sleep. Dreams of Aemond nude and wanting before you make you wake with your hand between your aching thighs. He pushes upward, entangling his hand in your hair and one hand at your waist. 

You whisper his name, eyes floating over him as he kisses you lightly then deeply as if his survival depends on making you feel so incredibly good. He strokes your hip, lifting up the side of your pale green layered silk gown. His hand strokes your backside feeling the wide curve of your ass. He presses flush to you against the soft mattress and propped pillows. 

It is when you feel him. 

Between his legs is a sword at the ready. 

“You. Are. Hard.” You say each word with small gasps as he kisses your neck laying on top of you. 

“I am.” You can feel his lips curve into a smile at your collarbone. “It means I desire you.” 

You feel your body shiver at this thought. 

He wants you. 

You find his hand at your hip guiding it with yours to your aching core. It is as soaked as his heavy leather coat. 

“I want you too.” You show him. He strokes you there and you feel too much pleasure soaking you more. “Let me undress you.” 

His coat falls to the side. Your fingers slip against the buttons of his tunic. He helps you in frustration, nearly ripping them off in a harsh pull. You stifle a laugh at his eagerness. He lavishes you with kisses, open mouthed and needy. You feel his tongue slip inside your mouth. It is so hot and so is his skin. It is as if he is burning up from the inside with desire. 

“I need you, my darling dove.”  

Your hand palms his hardness through the leather pants. You admire his torso for a moment stroking the length of him. He is well toned, muscular. His wide pecs and deep abs make you gasp. He leans forward threatening to kiss you again, but you lean back marvelling at the site knelt before you on your mother’s bed. 

“You like what you see then? I have been hoping that when we were ready to make love that my body was to your liking. It is another reason I have been training so hard.” 

You feel a deep devotion to him in this moment. 

That he would spend so much time on his body to please you. 

Just you. 

“You were sculpted by the Gods.” You trace your fingers over his abs stroking along the dips of his hips. 

“I was sculpted for you and you alone, my little dove.” He cups your cheeks seeking your kiss again. He is sweet and well practiced now with how to kiss you. 

He is so happy now after being so taken with guilt over the death of his nephew you wonder if he is truly okay. 

You feel selfish kissing him back. 

You feel wrong for wanting him to never stop wanting you even if he is to marry another. 

“Say you want me ag-”

“I want you. Jaelan ao.” He says before you can finish. 

You press down his trousers. He stands to reveal his naked body to you. You have never seen a nude man before, but you are sure no other man looks as Aemond Targaryen does. He stands proudly as if he knows his body is a work of art. You have already been admiring his torso. 

Why not admire the rest of him? 

You sit on the bed letting your eyes fall to the part of him you had been too bashful to lay eyes on. You are in the midst of exploring him fully. You must look at that part. His hardness stands straight, long and thick. You see he is smooth at his base where his balls hang low. He strokes himself proudly, smirking. The tip of his cock is leaking. 

You think it is because his body needs you so badly it is weeping. 

On instinct, you spread your legs. 

He watches you nearly panting. 

“Would you like to see me?” 

It is a question you know the answer to. 

You watch his cock twitch, up and down as if an invisible force is causing him to stir. 

He steps forward eager, but cautious in case you are nervous about revealing yourself fully. You are nervous. You have never been naked in front of a man before. You ease yourself looking to his sapphire eye. He has exposed himself time and time again to you. 

Surely you can show him your tits and not flush? 

You stand and turn away from him. Your neck bends forward as you shift your hair exposing the clasp around your neck. You feel the pads of his fingers there. It is there you realize he is trembling. Uneasily with a few fumbled tries, he undoes the clasps letting the bodice of your gown fall forward exposing your tits to the cool air. 

Your nipples peak to life in the coldness. You instinctively go to cover them, but he stays your hands. He is easy with them, a gentle kind of ease. He moves to knead your breasts. You say nothing because his hands, while cold from the rain, are so good squeezing at your fleshy fat before rolling your peaked pink buds between his fingers. 

“Aemond,” You sigh, leaning back into him. You touch his face from behind bringing him closer as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Take the rest off.” 

He kisses behind your ear, a lingering beautiful kiss. 

His hands move from your well massaged breasts down further. He glides them down your torso to your hips. They still hug the silk dark green dress with little gold lace. He pulls it down over your wide hips. He pushes himself at the curve of your bottom and you feel that he is harder than you remembered. 

The dress pools to the floor. 

You are as exposed as he is. 

You are the same in this moment.

You feel his face from behind you as he continues to kiss your neck and hold your body to his. 

“I want you to be my first too.” You tell him. It is a secret you have kept close to your chest. “I dream about you, Aemond. I . . .” You can not bring yourself to say it, but you do. If you do not say it now it will fester inside you until you leave this world. “I love you, Aemond Targaryen.” 

He does not stop kissing you. 

He only whispers. 

“Avy jorrāelan tolī.”

You turn in his arms. Tears edge his bottom eyelid. You kiss them away holding his face. You repeat the words in High Valyrian, the same tone and cadence as his confession. He leans forward kissing you. He can not stop telling you he loves you, in either language. 

“Make love to me.” You instruct him feeling that his kisses are suddenly not enough. You hold his face seeing how his desire matches your own. “I want you inside me.” 

He lays you down gently on the bed. His kisses press to your lips. His tongue continues to explore your mouth. Yours is eager to explore his. You are eager as you spread your legs for his member to slot between your thighs. You feel the leaking head caressing your core. 

“Will it hurt?” 

You do not like pain. You know that your core is tight and his thick throbbing length is supposed to fit inside you. 

“It may be uncomfortable.” He strokes your hair softly. “If you need to stop, just say so. I would never do anything to hurt you, my little dove.”

You believe him.

You nod feeling ready for him. 

“I . . .” He pauses looking down at your face, your body, your cunt. He teases you with long lithe fingers, stroking your slit making you whimper. “I should like you a bit wetter before I enter you.” 

His face moves downward trailing feathery kisses between your breasts then further down making you shudder with anticipation. He looks up from kissing your belly as if asking for approval to journey further. You bite your lip and nod. It takes all your power not to push his face where you need him. 

He is at your sex. 

He is between your legs. 

Aemond licks your slit long and slow. It has the desired effect. You grow wetter letting out tiny pleased gasps. Your sex pulses with need. He kisses you there where he is needed most. His tongue pushes past your folds letting his lips suckle and drink you in. The slurping noise is quite lewd, but it makes your body soak around his lip. Your hips dance upwards as his hands grip your thighs in place. He presses little circles on your soft inner thigh. 

“Aemond . . .” You grip the sheets never wanting him to stop. You have never felt this good or loved in your life. You fear you will never feel this good again. “Don’t stop.” You want to beg him to keep his tongue inside you, but instead he finds that bud. 

Your body quakes. The tip of his tongue swirls around the bud. You can nearly feel it throbbing. It needs friction. He wraps his lips around the little pearl suckling. 

You can not see. Your eyes screw shut. 

The pleasure. 

The pleasure rides through your body, from core to toes to head. You cry out to the Gods. You cry out in undeniable euphoria.You feel yourself come undone and back together again. Your legs shake. Aemond holds you to the bed, grounding you as if you might float away to the heavens. He continues despite the unending pleasure you feel. 

“You enjoyed that.” He is smiling proudly, his tongue still lapping against your core despite how you feel yourself coming down from the euphoric high. You simply nod. “I am glad. I believe you are ready for me.” 

You shift to rest your head more firmly on the pillows. Aemond helps. He fluffs the pillows and makes sure you are comfortable. He strokes your core making sure you are slick and continues to kiss your lips alternating between sweet and searing passion. 

You are ready. 

You want him.

You need him. 

His tip brushes the hairs at your core clustered wet in your arousal. You sigh feeling the girth of his tip. You know it may feel uncomfortable, but there is nothing more you have ever wanted in your life then Aemond Targaryen’s cock rutting itself to completion inside you. 

“Hold me for comfort. I am here for you always. You are mine. Ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

He is careful when he enters you. There is much discomfort, but no pain. The stretch is easy with how wet he has made you. His tip squeezes inside your core making you gasp with perfect desire. You hold under his pits to grasp his shoulders as he continues to push inside you. 

He watches your face to make sure you are alright before pushing in further. 

You feel him. 

Gods, do you feel him. 

He can not help, but ease himself further until he is flush with you. His magnificent well defined torso is crushed against your soft womanly figure. You hold him for dear life. He nuzzles his nose into your hair and neck. He bottoms out inside you. 

You feel all of him now. 

You nearly cry with how good it feels to smell him, to touch him, to taste him, to have him inside you. 

“I love you.” You say again. “Always.” 

“I love you.” He says looking upon your sweet face, innocent and in love. “I wish to move. To truly make love to you. Tell me if -” 

“Yes, please, fuck me.” Your words are not sweet, but desperate. 

You want him to know he can be a bit rough if he likes. 

You think you may want him to be. 

His thumb wipes across your bottom lip, a loving gesture. 

He begins. 

Aemond moves inside you thoughtfully. Out half way then easing back in. His eye is settled on your face, watching for any signs he should stop or signs of true pleasure. You know all he sees, all he hears is your pleasure settling inside you. His breath is soft and needy against your neck as he slowly fucks your cunt. 

Your hips rise to meet him. 

Want him. 

More. 

He takes the sign. Aemond begins to rock his hips deeper. His cock is moving at a much quicker pace. You stretch. You feel yourself expand around his cock. It feels like nothing else you have ever felt. You hold him close as his hips begin to snap, pounding into you. You can feel you may bruise, but you do not care. His breath is heavier now, panting as he fucks you. You cry out louder moans of pure bliss. 

“Yes! Please!” Gods, he feels good. So very good. 

His cock twitches inside you. 

He is moaning now. 

It is as if he has silenced himself this whole time, but now can not control it. 

“I am there.” He calls out with a grunt. 

You feel your core pulse pulling him in deeper. 

“Fuck, you are milking my cock! I can not hold on. I can not hold on!” He grunts out snapping his hips like the beating wings of a dragon. 

You cry out hearing him let out a loud noise, a mixture of your name and cries of passion.  

He spills his seed inside you. 

You feel warm as you rake your fingernails across his back feeling the wetness spill from you. You call out his name as you feel undone underneath him. 

His name is like a prayer. 

If you say it enough he will be yours. 

He tenderly says your name against the shell of your ear as you feel him grow soft inside you. 

You lay as one, he deep inside you. 

You draw circles across his back in comfort. 

He nuzzles against your hair. You can feel his wet lips against your neck in small kisses. 

“You are mine.” He whispers to you. “Even if I am to marry another. You will always be mine.” 

You think that is true. You think that has always been true. 

You have experienced something special with him. You have taken the virginity of Prince Aemond Targaryen. He has taken your flower. You will never forget this moment. 

As you lay there in each others’ arms you know soon you will part. Perhaps he will never return to your bed. Perhaps he will constantly return to you. He is to be married. He may be. He may break off the engagement. 

It is a future not yet set in stone. 

You know that you will savor this moment in time. 

When you were his and he was yours.

[drdemonprince]

Can u talk about the process of replacing your desire for unhealthy relationship dynamics that were sexually exciting with desire for explicitly negotiated kinky sex? or do I just need to wait for the essay lol

It's not actually in the piece but now that you mention it, it could make for a really strong narrative turning point.

It started by me cheating on my abusive partner with kinky people! I realized at some point during a two-year relationship in graduate school that was extremely toxic that I was so addicted to my partner because I was getting off on the control he exerted over my body and life. I wanted to get away from him, but I felt utterly dependent on how he made me feel, and he was already cheating on me...so I hopped onto OK Cupid and started flirting with some people.

It made me feel good, it made me feel like I could live on without him and build a new life for myself. I had a few fairly vanilla hookups with people at first, and it didn't do much for me, but one of those casual partners became a lifelong friend. Then a sexy, bombastic stand-up comedian who was just coming up in the local scene slid into my inbox, allured by the fact I described myself as shy. He was pushy and hyperconfident, which I liked. And when he asked me what kinks turned me on in bed, the truth came spilling out: Dom-sub.

(I wish I'd had the gall to tell him hypnosis, which had been a lifelong fetish of mine. This guy would prove to be fascinated by rare and niche kinks, but I was too ashamed of my hypnosis thing to tell anyone at that point).

The stand up comedian started domming me after that. He'd make me pay for his cab, throw me over a chair, finger me, and fuck me in the ass hard while biting my back and leaving massive welts. The sex was incredible. But he was also an egotistical 21-year-old with an active heroin addiction (he swore up and down to me that the drug 'wasn't a big deal'), and he started fucking me without a condom without my consent, which was traumatic and to this day is the reason I rarely receive anal sex. Ultimately he became controlling and jealous of my other (abusive) primary partner, and he left me, and then died of a heroin overdose after sending me a few more stray messages recounting good old times.

It was a mess. But I learned a lot about myself through this encounter, and practiced articulating what I wanted for the very first time. I was mistreated, but I also had incredibly hot sex that I still revisit in my mind's eye. I know for a fact that this stand-up comedian reviewed our own chat messages shortly before he died, and that he remembered those times fondly too. I feel bad that he died so young, and was so lost and confused, and I wish that he could have survived long enough to get better and make amends.

After that experience (and after escaping my primary abusive relationship), I got into a very safe, vanilla relationship for many years. I was too traumatized for anything else, and the gentle, passive boyfriend that I found was very healing to be with. But eventually I did get bored with the sex, and his lack of emotional availability, and became profoundly depressed. It was around this time that I started taking Sam-E , an over-the-counter anti-depressant supplement whose side effects include increased libido and a kind of dreamy headspace. On impulse, I started searching for erotic hypnosis play websites one day.

I met several hypo-kinky partners on the site I found, a now-defunct chat site called Sleepychat that would pair hypnotists with hypno-bottoms. One of them was a truly skillful, communicative, and caring partner who built a whole complex hypnotic architecture and series of safeties and triggers in my mind. We are still friends. I had lots of play with lots of people, and started attending a hypno kink convention that just so happens to occur in the Chicago suburbs. I became gradually more comfortable acknowledging my kinks to people, and made lots of hypno-kinky audio files and stories. I had other Doms and owners, and had lots of wild sex here and there. Still, my serious, long-term vanilla relationship limited me.

I only really started searching out formally kinky relationships in earnest in 2021, after ending that vanilla relationship. I've been pretty firmly embedded within a variety of kink scenes since. My taste for hypnosis led me to regular D/s, and to leather and bondage, and to pup play and furry stuff. I've really come alive in the last handful of years. I've learned so much about myself and the many scenes, met so many people, had so much great sex and so much mid sex and been in all kinds of wonderful and toxic and off putting and funny dynamics. This aspect of my life only keeps getting better, and I'm excited for lots of new experiences this year!

damn i just about gave you a full essay right here

[wemalyri]

could you do enhypen reaction to ur self harm ?? I loved ur last post

pairing: hyungline!enhypen × gn!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort warnings: feeling guilty, obv self-harm, brief description of negative feelings and thoughts + personal tw for each member w/c: 640+ a/n: thank you for your request!! sorry that it took me SO long(( (it's been in my drafts since august just so yk :/)e also I did only hyung line I hope you don't mind. I tried to mention and describe different reasons and situations. some members include sad endings and feeling of hopelessness. I know that if you're deep down in this even words of your loved ones might not help. if you have this problem pls remember that you're not alone( take care of yourself properly! also sunghoon one is kinds crazy, sorry for that !!! likes and reposts are welcomed !!!

Heeseung

tw: comparison to others, jealousy, toxic perfectionism

You hadn’t seen each other for a few months. The reason of it was Heeseung’s job. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t stay with you all of the time. Three months of tour felt like eternity. However, it was finally over and now you could see each other again. Heeseung promised you to come over as soon as possible but you didn’t expect him to do it so fast. Forgetting yourself, you ran to the front door and opened it with a bright smile. Heeseung immediately hugged you, holding you tight. His hand held your head, burying your face in his chest. “Gosh I missed you so much…” He inhaled your scent with a loud sound. “You smell like home.”

You playfully giggled and pecked his lips, looking at him. He pulled away to explore your appearance with a smile, but it immediately faded as his gaze fixed on your thighs. “Y/n…” He whispered with fear, not believing his own eyes. 

Upper side of your legs were covered in scars, recent ones. You absolutely forgot to cover them, too excited to meet your boyfriend. 

Yes, Heeseung was perfect for you but that only made your self-esteem worse. You always thought he was too good for you, you never were on the same level. Heeseung wasn’t just an idol, he was a goddamn ‘ace’. Perfect at everything, you never noticed his bad habits, selfish thoughts or actions. He was like an angel fallen from heaven, someone who would never match you. This is what you thought. And when he left on tour you knew he wouldn’t be able to control or see new scars if you left them. Every time you got jealous, you would blame yourself for this feeling, making your mental statement even worse. Negative feelings were too much to handle but you were too embarrassed and ashamed to share them with Heeseung, knowing pretty well that even his sweetest words wouldn’t help you. This is how you found a way to express everything you felt, punishing yourself for not being flawless.

Your eyes looked down, searching for a reason of Heeseung’s worried expression. When you saw your scars, you felt ashamed and guilty. 

“It’s nothing.” you answered, trying to sound casual.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Heeseung’s tone of voice was serious. It felt like you had never seen him with such an expression. His eyes met yours and you could see a deep worry and hurt in them. “Why have you done that?..”

You felt guilty. You didn’t want to hurt him with your words but you didn’t want to lie to him at the same time. “I…didn’t feel well.” The reason you named sounded so stupid that a sense of shame washed over you.

Heeseung’s expression didn’t change. It seemed like your words didn’t convince him at all. “You could call me… text me… anything but not that.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You have a busy schedule, I don’t want to wear you out even more.” 

“Y/n… It wouldn’t hurt me as much as this.” You went silent for a second, biting your lip.

“I didn’t want to complain to you, okay?” It felt like you didn’t understand each other at all.

“Baby, that’s not complaining when you tell me about your feelings. That’s normal. I’m your boyfriend, you don’t trust me enough to share your thoughts?” You didn’t say anything as tears welled up in your eyes. Heeseung immediately stepped closer, pulling you to him. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as the last hope. He pecked your head, whispering. “Tell me when you don’t feel well next time, okay?” You slightly nodded, thinking that maybe it will help you to go through this. At least, you decided to give it a try.

Jay

tw: ED, fatshaming (reader to themselves)

Jay is the best cook you've ever known and everyone always says that they're jealous of your luck. Your boyfriend cooks for you everyday, he never fails to make sure you're eating well even when he's tired. However, for you personally this obsession with good meals never was for the best. Your relationship with your body never was the simplest one and even though Jay and you dated for a while, you managed to hide it from him. However, at the last time something went wrong and your boyfriend started noticing what attitude you actually had to food.

One day you were having a meal at your apartment and of course Jay cooked. Again. Sitting next to your boyfriend, you were picking at food. 

“Is something wrong? You don't like it?” Jay asked, looking at you through his eyelashes with concern. 

“No, everything's fine. Just not hungry.” You managed to say, trying to sound casual. Jay's eyebrows frowned and he pulled chopsticks away. 

“Are you sure? You haven't been eating well lately.” This question suddenly made you annoyed. You didn't want someone to talk about your eating problems, so you tried to change the topic. 

“Just not hungry.” The same words left your mouth and it made Jay confused even more. Something definitely was wrong and he just couldn't understand what exactly. 

“Y/n, I know something is wrong. Don't try to hide it from me.” Jay's tone was serious and it only irritated you even more. 

“I said I was fine!” You striked the table, that made your sleeves of shirt roll up and show off your scars. Jay looked at your wrists and his sight immediately catched those parts of skin you were hiding from him. Fresh scars were relieved for his eyes, blooming on your hands. 

“Y/n, your hands…” Jay spoke quietly in disbelief. Your eyes immediately widened in realization. He saw them.

You rolled down your sleeves, hiding marks of the hatred to your body, eyes looking down.

“How long ago did you make it?” Jay asked seriously, clenching his fists. He didn't hear an answer from you. “Why?..” For a minute that you were staying silent, a lot of different thoughts ran through his head. Weren’t you happy with him? Was he a bad boyfriend? Why did you hide it?

“Jay, it's not your fault.” His flaw of thoughts was ruined by your quiet voice. “It's just… me.”

He absolutely didn't understand. His eyes looked into yours with desire for more explanation. He was begging you to talk about it. 

“I-I don't like myself. My body. And I feel even worse every time you try to feed me. I'm fat. I can't let myself eat that much.”

Of course, he was so stupid all of this time. You had always been eating purely. Once he even noticed you judgingly looking at yourself in the mirror. And he did nothing.

“Gosh, I'm so stupid…” Jay hid his face in his hands, rubbing the forehead, trying not to bunch his head under the table. 

“No, you're not. I never talked about it. You were just being a good caring boyfriend.” You saw how awful he felt and it made you feel guilty. 

He quickly stood up from his place and you could see his watered eyes, when he slipped his hands away from his face. He approached you, gently pulling your wrist to the side to examine you. “Did you hurt yourself anywhere else? Are there any more scars?” 

“No, Jay.” You settled him down with your voice but he didn’t seem to believe you. “Really. That’s all.”

Jay slightly sighed, closing his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry.” You stood up and placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling even more guilty. 

“You shouldn’t apologize to me. You should apologize to yourself.” Jay looked mad but this expression on his face was actually hiding his concern. He looked at you and was met with your sad puppy eyes that made him want to hug you. His hands pulled you to him and he pressed his lips to your head. 

“I know…” You mumbled into his chest. “I just can't. I don't want to.”

“Baby… do you hate yourself that much?” Jay asked looking into your eyes when he lifted your chin up. Your eyes watered, giving him a clear answer. “I'm sorry…” He whispered. “I'll make sure you'll love yourself.”

You slightly shook your head in resistance but didn't say anything, ran out of energy. Jay patted your head, kissing your forehead, and while looking into his eyes full of love you thought that maybe he will keep his words. 

Jake

tw: reader can’t express their feelings, bad experience in sharing problems

Jake always was clingy towards you but it never was the problem. His hands almost always were wrapped around you, no matter if you were in public or not, you would feel his touch on your back or shoulder.

One day you had a movie-night and Jake was clinging onto you as usual. Wrapping hands around you, laying his head on your thighs, caressing your skin, he almost touched your recent scars that were covering your shoulder. Everytime Jake moved or shivered you would slightly flinch, avoiding contact between his hands and your scars under the shirt. 

Suddenly, your boyfriend pulled away from your thighs, holding onto your shoulder and you immediately gasped. “Ouch!”

Jake looked at you with worried eyes, pulling his hand away and holding it in the air. “Sorry! Did I grip too hard?”

You sighed, looking at him. “Yeah, a bit harsh. But it's okay.” Jake's gaze switched to your shoulder, covered with a shirt. He slightly pulled your sleeve up. “I'm sorry… There might be a bruise now. Let me look.” You immediately flinched from him. He didn't have to know about your scars. 

“No, it's okay.” Jake's eyes switched to your face with worry. 

“Baby, I'll just look…” He gently placed his hand on yours and you looked away, giving up. You knew he wouldn't leave you alone. Insisting would only cause more questions. 

Jake's fingers slowly pulled your sleeve up and his eyes widened. “Baby… what is that?..” Now he could see your recent scars that were blooming on your skin. 

There wasn't a certain reason why you did that. Sometimes negative feelings were too much to cope with and you, the person who had never been learnt how to take care of yourself and let your emotions out, would express everything, hurting yourself. You knew it was wrong but the thought of sharing your feelings with someone was too strange. Of course, you had tried. But it always ended the same. People would say you complain a lot and you would shut up, regretting letting out true feelings. But this time it was Jake. Jake who was your boyfriend, Jake who would never let himself hurt you. 

Your eyes watered with a feeling of despair but you didn't dare to meet his gaze. Awkward silence took the air away, not letting to breathe. However, tension in the room suddenly disappeared with Jake's gentle voice. “Hey…” His fingers tilted your chin up. Jake’s worried eyes met watered yours. “Where are they from?..” 

He looked so genuinely concerned that you couldn’t confess you were the one who did that with yourself. You bit your bottom lip, holding tears that started welling up in your eyes. There was no response. Jake started realising what your silent answer meant and his world faded away.

“It wasn’t you, right?..” he whispered, scared of his own words “You wouldn’t do that to yourself?…” Silence was making Jake go insane and he called you by your name. 

“Y/n?..” his hands held your, slightly squeezing them “Please, say something. I won;t judge you, I swear.”

You looked in the corner of the room quietly saying only a few words “That was me.”

Jake’s jaw clenched but he managed to ask “Why?..”

“I don’t know… I wasn’t… feeling well…” your voice was slightly shaky. Jake leaned close to you, making sure you could see everything in his eyes. 

“You have me. You can always share with me, you know that, right?” 

“I don’t want to complain to you. You don’t know what you’re signing up for.” you warned him, recalling your past experiences. 

“I don’t care. I want to make sure I’m doing the best I can to make you happy.” Jake saw your slight smile and leaned even closer to peck your lips before wrapping hands around you and whispering in your ear “Can you do that for me? Next time you feel bad… Tell me, scream at me, yell at me. As much as you need until you get rid of wanting to hurt yourself.” 

You caressed his hair pulling him closer and whispering “I love you, Jake.”He smiled, replying with the same soft words “I love you too.”

Sunghoon 

tw: self-harm in details, blood, low self-esteem, anxiety, jealousy, reader has REAL mental problems… (this one is crazy fr)

You knew Sunghoon pretty well as much as the fact that he only seemed to be cold. When you first met him, you thought he hated you for something or just didn’t like you, but after a while you found out you were wrong. Because of his cold appearance it’s hard to say what he’s feeling or thinking about. Still, you’ve loved him the way he is. However, your anxiety and self-esteem suffered the most in your relationship. Not because Sunghoon was too cold, but because you were afraid of doing or saying something wrong. Mental problems and fears took control of you and sometimes it led to hurting yourself. 

Sunghoon went out with friends. You were absolutely fine with that until it started being late and stars covered the dark sky. Sunghoon didn’t answer your calls, didn’t reply to your messages and you started worrying too much. Was he with other girls? Did he lie to you about his feelings? 

Minutes with these thoughts and attempts to call him again and you already found yourself in the bathroom with a blade in your hands. Fear of losing Sunghoon and hatred to yourself led you towards irrecoverable actions.

Consumed by your feelings, you didn’t notice the sound of unlocking door and footsteps of your boyfriend. He was surprised by not seeing you greeting him in the hallway and suggested you were sleeping. As Sunghoon carefully headed towards the bathroom he stood still in the doorframe, seeing you with bloody hands sitting on the cold tile. His eyes widened in fear and he ran to you, holding your shoulders and turning you to him.

“Y/n! Are you here? Do you hear me?” he enquired with fear slightly shaking you. 

Your eyes shoot opened “Hoon? What are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean? I came home as usual. What’s happened?..” he looked over you with worried eyes “We need to take you to the hospital.” 

Sunghoon started lifting you up but you stopped him lightly tapping his shoulder. 

“No… It’s okay…” You weakly smiled, tears on your cheeks becoming dry.

“It’s not okay. Your wrists are literally bleeding…” You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm but hysterical notes in his voice were telling the opposite. Sunghoon laid you on the bed and called the ambulance with shaky hands.When the call ended the room went silent. 

“We need to stop your… blood first” He hurried to the bathroom for some bandage to negligently stop your blood. Fortunately, cuts weren’t deep.

“I thought you wouldn’t come…” you mumbled watching Sunghoon treating your wounds.

Sunghoon looked at you with confusion “Why did you do that?.. I don’t understand…” His voice was quiet, your heart breaking into million pieces. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered reaching for his cheek. “I thought… I thought you lied to me. You weren’t answering my texts and calls…” Your thumb slowly caressed his skin, wiping away a lonely tear that escaped from his watering eyes. Sunghoon gently took another hand of yours in his, rubbing the knuckles.

“My phone was discharged…” 

Oh. That was so stupid of you. How could you overreact so much?..

“Oh… I didn’t think about that…” The room went silent again. 

“Y/n, please… I’m begging you. Never do that again. Okay?..” Sunghoon’s pleading voice broke the silence. You hesitated before slowly nodding. “I don’t want to lose you like that.”

Your eyes watered, you started realising your mistake and what you did, what could happen. “I’m sorry, Hoon… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The room was suddenly filled with a syren of the ambulance that flew from the opened window.