#its so stupid and tone deaf

[shellji]

“vi fucking caitlyn in jinx’s cell was vi reclaiming her prison trau—“ shut the fuck up actually

[seventeendeer]

finally got around to giving carol and the end of the world a try and this is definitely the meanest possible takeaway from only having watched one episode, but christ it's really serving "chubby introvert brunettes are the most oppressed people in the world" right out the gate huh

[xuanelle]

for every joke you make about a character dying from cancer people who've have/had cancer or people who've known people who've had/cancer will likely see it and maybe you should reconsider making what you think is a silly little joke that is actually just insensitive

[barnbridges]

every time some western redditor calls wars "stupid" i want to punch them in the face. it seems that on liberal and left-wing circles on the internet, people now treat it like everyone's country is the top 5 largest countries on earth overlords from over the atlantic who decide to involve themselves in war and haven't had territorial disputes since their last fucking annexation, where for some countries our very existence and survival is based on war. our home is a byproduct of people who heroically lost their lives in war and have living relatives today. saying war is stupid is saying the peace i get to enjoy because thousands died for my country to exist is stupid. fuck you.

[u3pxx]

KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.

EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!

- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!

- “Sure is.”

DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?

YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”

DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!

YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.

INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.

ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.

HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.

KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”

YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”

LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”

YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”

YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”

KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."

He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”

EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.

YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.

YOU - “…”

KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.

YOU - “Kim?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.

YOU - “KIM!!!!”

uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt

(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)

also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes

[ventismacchiato]

O9 stuck with you — mile high club !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The universe had blessed you with great looks, an overflow of talent, and a great personality. But you couldn’t have it all, which was why your irrational fear of flying was a great target for your friends to bully you for. 

It was a great insecurity of yours, but you knew they meant well. 

You hadn’t slept a wink the night before as you started to accept your fate of sitting next to the higher evil for an entire flight – Scaramouche.

“Don’t look so down,” Venti tries to comfort, his mouthful of powdered donuts, “You can just sleep the entire time.”

“As if I would feel at ease sleeping next to him,” you mutter, “He’d probably push me off the plane.”

You spare a glance over to where Scara was seated beside his members, the other three loudly playing a game of UNO as he flipped through some manga with his headphones on. He looked up and caught your eye, raising a brow as you quickly avert your eyes. Unlike him you were unable to sit still.

“Alright, it’s time to board!” Jean says, shuffling through a stack of passports, she hadn’t trusted any of you to keep them on yourselves, “It’s a private plane so once everyone is settled we’ll take off.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Lisa laughed as she slid past Jean to start boarding with a face mask already applied.

You let yourself fall back and let everyone go ahead of you, fidgeting with your necklace as you ended up right behind Scaramouche.

The airplane cabin was a tight squeeze as you and Scaramouche were forced into a small space together. The plane was smaller than usual so it could land safely on the island and Jean had thought making you guys fly economy would get you ready for the harsh reality of the island. And just your luck, you had a window seat. Once you were seated you couldn’t help but give sporadic glances towards the glass. It didn’t look very strong.

Whenever you had to board a plane you usually had Xiao or Lumine beside you, and they’d let you grab onto their arm during takeoff. It was a stupid fear, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the anxiety bubbling its way up to your skin.

You were so out of it you didn’t even comprehend the man you hated was less than a few inches away from you, giving you judgemental glances as you kept wringing your hands and rocking back and forth in your seat. You hadn’t even called him ugly yet. Even he was confused at the sudden lack of hostility.

Scaramouche glanced at you with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief as he was in his seat beside you, “Get up,” he demanded sharply.

“What?” you mumble, not registering his tone as you start staring out the little glass window. God, how high were you guys going to fly?

“I said get up and switch seats with me. Are you deaf?” The forcefulness in his voice left no room for argument.

You hesitated, looking down at your shaking hands. “Really?”

Scaramouche huffed as he stood up, yanking you up from your seat and gesturing for you to move before taking your previous spot without a word.

“Thank you,” you sigh, feeling a bit of the tension in your shoulders release. Still too distressed to realize you were thanking Scaramouche out of all people. It was the equivalent to thanking the devil for world hunger in your eyes. 

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Don’t thank me. I did it because your shaking was annoying,” he grumbles, reaching over to grab your hand and wave it around to prove his point. 

As he took the window seat, he noticed your continuous anxious peeks towards the window. Without a word, he reached over and pulled down the window curtain with a decisive motion, blocking out the view that was making you more uneasy by the second.

The pilot announced that it would begin its takeoff, and you immediately felt your heart race, trying to control your breathing. Scaramouche, who had already hooked on his headphones, still couldn’t tune out your incessant fidgeting, 

With a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh he gently but firmly pushed your head between your knees. “Just stay like that until we’re steady,” he instructed, his tone less harsh than before as he kept his palm on your upper back. 

Once the plane leveled out and the turbulence eased, Scaramouche pulled you back up by your collar. 

“God, you’re pathetic. You better not throw up on me,” he said with an edge of irritation, but there was a hint of something else in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

Overwhelmed by fear and unable to focus on his insults, you instinctively grabbed his arm, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. Scaramouche glanced down at you, surprise flashing in his eyes. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for how to handle the situation.

With a sigh that spoke of reluctant empathy, Scaramouche allowed you to hold onto his arm. He didn’t pull away or complain, simply letting you grasp his arm tightly until you began to calm down. 

“Just… let me know when you’re ready to let go,” he muttered, his usual bravado tempered by a rare moment of patience as he turned his head away, burying it in his other palm. 

You nodded, still gripping his arm but feeling your fear gradually subside. After a few minutes, when you felt more composed, you slowly released your hold. The post fear clarity hit you hard.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, the gratitude in your voice palpable despite the strained circumstances.

Scaramouche just huffed, turning his attention back to his phone. “Whatever, try not to lose it on me again or I really will throw you off.”

As the flight continued, the atmosphere between you and Scaramouche shifted slightly. For the brief few hours in the sky, he went easier on you.

It was odd to not be treated like dirt by him for once. Oddly nice. 

The island was serene at night. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore provided you with a soothing lullaby and a sight just as enchanting. You’d always loved the ocean, the crispy and fresh scent it brought you. You walked along the beach, relishing in the sensation of burying your feet in the warm sand in an attempt to clear your mind.

You couldn't sleep, the anticipation of tomorrow's filming gnawing at your nerves. The beach was mostly empty, save for a solitary figure sitting by the water. As you approached, your heart jumped into your throat, a rush of fear surging through you.

"Relax, it's me, dumbass," came a familiar, exasperated voice. Scaramouche.

"Great," you muttered, feeling your heartbeat slow to a normal pace. "Just what I needed."

"Can you go away? There's so much beach to sit on. I'm trying to have a moment," Scaramouche said, his tone dripping with irritation.

"You aren't the only one who can have an emo moment," you shot back, plopping down a few feet away from him. "Why are you even here?"

"Same reason as you," he replied, staring out at the ocean.

The silence stretched between you, the only sound the waves breaking on the shore. After a while, you broke the silence. "I could push you in right now, you know."

"I can swim, idiot," he replied, not even bothering to look at you.

“Another thing you can do,” you mutter, bringing your knees up to tuck under your chin. You look to your left to see Scaramouche drawing circles in the sand.

"Sometimes you don’t realize how good you have it," you whisper, but in the quiet of the night he hears it and looks over at you.

He scoffs, "You think I have it good? You're welcome to take my place anytime."

“I’m just saying, It’s annoying when you’re the only one I keep losing to,” you murmured. You needed to tape your mouth shut, at this point you were just giving him more ammo to fight you with. Your inferiority complex didn’t need any more reasons.

“God, you really are stupid,” Scara says, his tone dry. Before you could haul his ass into the ocean, he continues,

"Just because you keep losing to me doesn’t make you inferior," Scaramouche says so quietly you almost miss it, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you that stupid? If I'm the only person you can't beat, then that’s a win." He looks over to where you were peering at him, “Why am I even competing with someone as idiotic as you?”

You looked away, his words not sounding like spewed garbage once in your life. 

A few more minutes passed in quiet contemplation. Eventually, you stood up, brushing the sand off your pants. "I'm going to the kitchen for a snack."

"Why are you announcing it?" Scaramouche scoffs, finally glancing over at you.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

To your surprise, he got up and followed you. 

"Why are you so obsessed with me?" you grumbled.

"I'm literally just hungry, you self-absorbed freak," he shot back, but there was a gloominess to his tone that made you glance at him with a bit more curiosity.

You’d only stepped into the kitchen that afternoon during the tour, so you spent a good five minutes looking for hot cocoa powder as Scaramouche was no help whatsoever.

Scaramouche watched you with a judgemental eye as you dumped too much powder into a cup of milk and turned the heat on too high, causing the drink to froth and overflow. 

"That's gross," he finally said, pushing you aside and taking over. "You're doing it all wrong."

"Like you could do any better," you retorted, but you watched as he made the cocoa, and you had to admit it looked better than your attempt. He even found marshmallows and threw it into your cup, leaving his empty of it. He started walking back to the dorms, and not wanting to be left behind you trailed behind him, steaming mugs in hand.

You hissed as the heat permeating through the mug scorched your palms.

“You really can’t do anything,” Scaramouche drawls, taking your cup away from you as he went ahead of you.

“I don’t need you to hold it,” you huff, jogging to catch up with him.

As you entered the common area, everyone was gathered around, playing the board games that Yoimiya had brought. 

Childe looked up and grinned while rolling a pair of dice, "Hey, look, matching hot cocoa! How cute."

Lumine smirked. "Awww, you two are such couple goals!"

You and Scaramouche immediately started squabbling, your voices rising in indignation. "We're not a couple!" you both shouted in unison, glaring at each other.

“You guys are even in sync!” Aether sighed, “Goals. Literal goals.”

“Whatever,” Scaramouche huffed, placing your mug back in your hands and shoving past you all to head to his room.

“Awe, not going to join us for Monopoly?” Venti calls out.

Scaramouche answers by slamming his door shut.

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

sorry if u aren’t actually afraid of heights i wanted to include that scene so yn has to be a wuss sorry xx me personally tho i love flying

i hope i wrote modern yae well? i listened to a bunch of voicelines to figure out how her and scara wud interact in this universe 😭

please comment on the masterlist if you’d like me to use your user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — chat did we enjoy this chapter

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @kazuhasbabe

[nyursi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑!ㅤpart one.

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  in a series of successful heists, the infamous cat burglar is finally caught and is left with the mercy of his victims to decide his fate.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤdiluc, zhongli, heizou, (here, part one) alhaitham, dottore, and wriothesley (part two)!

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, degradation, tummy bulge, biting, breeding, impact play, petnames, hair-pulling, public sex, and more.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE DARK NIGHT HERO'S NEW QUOTA...

featuring impact play, hair pulling, exhibitionism, (semi) public sex, and diluc.

killing slimes and dealing with drunkards both day and night quickly became a boring routine for diluc. but he finds such creatures easier to deal with more than a certian eye-patch wearing man.

so when he hears of the burglar who causes trouble nation after nation, finally arrived in mondstadt, diluc can't deny his curiosity.

the name he made for himself was quite odd, never actually thinking a cat burglar would come to life. but life has its ways. and in the nature of life, it's only normal to take hold of this situation. diluc deserves a break anyway.

and now here he is; thrusting relentlessy into the warm heat of the damned 'cat burglar' who attempted to rob him. wanton whines of different octaves escaped your drooling lips, and claws extracted to find purchase on the cobble walls of diluc's manor.

"dumb boy, who were you trying to fool?" your sensitive ears twitched when diluc spoke so close—even more when he grazed his teeth light as a feather against them. "n- no one!" you whined, wiggling your hips.

a tip too tempting to ignore was given to you a while back, claiming that the house ragnvindr had riches to spare for little ol' you. too bad that mister diluc had a tip himself, though much more eye catching and valueable. as half of the mondstadt ladies would fume with jealousy, wishing it was them being split apart by diluc's cock. and not some nimble cat eared boy.

your eyes welled with tears when a stern hand yanked on the hair from your scalp, eliciting a humiliating moan.

god, everything about him is so... big!

from diluc's reputation, wealth, to his physical attributes, diluc as a whole was domineering.

cheeks flushed an embarassing red when your eyes met his, and your tail swished out of your control. "pl- please... 'm close!" such desperate pleads fell on deaf ears, as diluc had no intention to listen to your words.

he counted mentally, giving you time to shut up. and when you didn't stop your dumb begging?

"ahn!~" your eyes widened when a harsh smack landed on your ass, causing your whole body to jolt forward. diluc took ahold of your temporary weakness, and forced your chest to meet the cold stone wall.

with your hard nipples and swollen cock rubbing on such an odd texture, the pleasure of it all caused you to near an orgasm. "you moan so sweetly," diluc grunted, planting his hands on your hips roughly.

"it could compete with the grapes in this yard."

oh yes. was it too embarassing to mention that you never managed to sneak in his manor at all? what was a stupid kitty like you doing anyway, wearing a suspicious cloak and prowling about diluc's courtyard.

he seized you then and there.

it's too bad a 'skilled' burglar like you was caught before your plan was in action.

"but unless you want to get caught, i suggest you tone it down." your eyes fogged with lust as diluc shoved his fingers down your throat, coating them with your saliva.

then you came. harshly. your cum splat against the wall, and rubbed against your skin as diluc went faster. course, your little cock was still between your body and the stone, forcing you to take the pleasure that hurt.

diluc soon followed, covering your insides with a creamy white, one that you wanted inside you forever.

one thing you knew now; no money in diluc's manor would ever compare to the treasure below his belt.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

RE-AWAKENING OF THE GEO ARCHON...

featuring biting, breeding, double penetration, frottage(?), and zhongli (but morax).

it was no secret that the geo archon was the scariest of all. but with his charming looks, you somehow thought a similar personality would follow.

oh how wrong you were.

"please morax, have mercy on me!" you landed on your knees, body quivering as you felt morax's cold stare upon you.

he tsked, shaking his head. "weak mortals like you shouldn't be making the decision here." morax cooed at you with pity, running his rough palms over the top of your head.

an accident it was, really. for you to stumble upon his abode—and bask your greedy eyes to the glory of his shining hoarde. a large pile of gold and other trinkets was enough for you to trudge forward and grab an armful of wealth.

with your mind focused on the heavy riches you were carrying, your feline ears couldn't hear the heavy footsteps of this hoard's owner.

you were one of the unlucky few, as this den was ruled by the geo archon himself. morax.

"are you defective? surely these little ears of yours are much more sensitive than that of a humans." he mused, eyeing your trembling body.

an uncontrolled whimper broke your silence. morax was scary, definitely! but he was far too mean for your liking. but you had no choice other than to pray that he would forgive you.

"well," he started. anticipation built every second, and you were hung on his every word. "there is one way you could repent."

and here you were; laid limp in his arms. boneless as you eyed his large dicks, both erect and leaking. rubbing against your hole. you attempted to look away, but morax quickly took ahold of your jaw.  "don't look away, this is your own doing, boy."

morax nipped on your ear, making you yelp. "oh don't whine, that was nothing compared to this."

in a split second, one had slid in entirely, leaving not a single inch uncovered. he was buried to the hilt. and you were full. morax wasted no time and quickly began to find rhythm, while you haven't even adjusted to his size.

"a-ah! wait please!-" it was an odd yet pleasing sensation, morax's cock rubbed against places you've never touched before, making you see celestia. "m-moraaaaaaax!~"

uncontrollable tears dripped down your red cheeks when his other dick was forced against yours. he wrapped his hand against both, and began moving it up and down. squeezing your heats within his palm.

the size difference between you two made him laugh; saying something about 'it barely counted as a cock, and how it resembles a pathetic pussy instead.'

your hips twitched, mind reeling. mouth wide open yet no sound escaped when you felt air breeze on your leaking tip once again, as well as the similar pressure against your hole.

morax bit your shoulder, and at the same time he sunk you down on both of his cocks. "i knew it, a boy like you was made for this."

he plowed upwards and his hands brought you downwards, kissing your prostate in a harsh and quick manner, like he wanted you to orgasm quickly. "gh!- gonna... gonna cum!"

eyes squeezed shut and toes curled, cum spurted out and landed on your face. but morax didn't stop. not until he fucked you full.

"you're gonna be a pretty kitty knocked up," he said, taking an arm beneath your knees and forcing them to your ears. "pregnant with my eggs."

"i'll breed you again and again," morax grunted, in a final thrust his cum quickly flooded your insides. "until you learn not to steal."

it's a shame you can't get pregnant. but no worries, morax will make you feel like you could!

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

A DETECTIVE'S LUCKY LEAD...

featuring orgasm denial/ruined orgasm, dry humping, face fucking, and heizou.

you were a bit too confident in your abilities. it's not your fault! all of your previous heists were succesful, but it did make you believe you were untouchable.

so you didn't think twice sending a hint of your location to inazumas detective. not like he was gonna find you anyway.

that's what you believed.

and how wrong you were.

"what? didn't think i'd believe your little trick? with a slimy cat like you as my target, i have to take every given opportunity." heizou sighed, as if he was disappointed in you.

currently, he had you pinned with your back to the wall of some random abandoned building.

"you really had me stressed, you know? what do you have to say for yourself, kitty?" he looked into your eyes, smirking when you couldn't answer.

you were ashamed. even more so when shikanonin had begun to grind against you, your clothed cocks twitching with pleasure from the friction. "mmngh..." your eyes averted to the ground.

heizou grabbed you by the thighs, bringing you up. in a quick reaction, you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist. this allowed him to grind i to you harsher, hips moving in a tandem. "i can feel a wet patch down there, what a slut you are. i bet you dreamed of getting caught!"

"no! i-i didn't!" you shook your head violently, tearing up from both his mean words and thrusting. to prevent any moans to leak out—you bit your lip.

with every second that passed by, your erection quickly fought against the tightness of your pants. "aww, you're hard?" heizou cooed, flicking the tip of your cock.

"ahn!~" you flinched when he continued his assault on your dick, non-stop flicking and slapping, causing your back to arch from the wall. "he-heizoou! nooo!" mindless babbles with tears in your eyes from the painful pleasure, a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine.

but as quick as that feeling came, it quickly went as well. you were left heaving from the ruined orgasm, tail curling around heizou's arm.

"stop whining, naughty cat burglars like you don't deserve to cum." you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, as well as fabric falling to the floor. "but if you're really thaaat desperate,"

he paused.

the detective grabbed the top of your head, and forced your face against his bulge. "then suck, like a good kitty."

with a determined fevor— you suckled on the delicious bulge through his boxers. soon taking his hung cock out, and wasting no time taking it into your mouth.

you slurped, and hollowed out your cheeks, using your tongue to trace every vein down heizou's impressive shaft. but he was too big. you had barely taken in half of it! and that wouldn't do.

"you really are useless, aren't you?" heizou sighed and took matters into his own hands (literally.) he grabbed the back of your head, and pushed his hips forward. making you swallow the whole thing.

"mngh!" the both of you grunted, heizou sighed out in pleasure, feeling his cock head reach the back of your throat.

the waterworks flooded when he began to thrust in and out. you felt the heaviness of his dick on your tongue everytime he moved, and archons was it amazing. hearing heizou moan and even whimper because of your mouth sent butterflies to your stomach, and you wanted more.

so despite the trouble you had breathing, you pushed on to bring the detective to his orgasm.

work hard to get the delicious, savory, creamy, and rich milk from heizou! it'll cure your sore throat right away.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

[lewdimagines]

𝓞𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄 (18+)

pairings : jake kim x reader, gitae kim x reader

content warning ⚠️: nsfw head canons. . .

JAKE KIM :

he definitely is nice and romantic.. the way he gives off lover boy is so mbejwgsjeh 😍😍, he is the type man to caress you and lead you while slowly but harshly pounding into your hole and whispering soft praises in your ear.. calling you his good (boy/girl) and how your taking his cock so well

he kinda gives off like prob..8 inches def a shower not a grower 🎀 he definitely has top 5 prettiest cocks but his cum is prob not as tasty as others since he mainly eats like ramen n stuff..please give this boy some fruits and a correct diet 😭‼️.

bonus…

jake had you in a big spoon position..its been like this for minutes probably hours even! You couldn’t keep up with this mans stamina not knowing how much times you had even came around his girthy cock, as he hit your sweet spots with every thrust forcing loud moans from your vocal cords “ please..jakee feels too much its too much baby~! “ he would kiss your tears rolling down your face as his thrust sped up slightly making you squeal out in overstimulation pulling out another orgasm from you “ shh..just take my cock pretty thats all im askin you to do baby. “

GITAE KIM :

THE TOTAL OPPOSITE FROM JAKE

js mean and rough :(( never gives you a break esp if you guys are dating/married he just wants to be in your hole all the time, how else is he gonna relieve his stress anywhere else? Its hard managing a cartel and being so hot, he is such and i mean SUCH a red flag

Soon as you say no to him he will throw a big fit making no other choice for him to fuck your throat and degrade you in how stupid you are and how you dont even compare to those street common whores.

9 inches. YEA HE IS BIGGER THAN JAKE AND SO WHAT 🤬🤬‼️ He is a grower at first you’d be relieved on how he is a average length..but as soon as you start gridding your hips on his lap at the club he is dealing at you felt something way more than average against the fat of your cheeks. ( he is a ass man )

he only is romantic when youre dating him!! If you’re js some night stand he is gonna be rough and aggressive to you all night not even giving you a break.

bonus. . .

“ GITAE- SHIT! “ your screams and moans would bounce off the club restroom his hands bouncing you back on his cock, plunging his hips into yours making wet slapping noises “ maybe if you..didnt tightened the fuck up this would be fuckin easier, right? “ he said his tone being menacing and rude your walls tightening up on his walls as you squealed out more your hands gripping on the bathroom sink. Your legs quivering as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g spot. “ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE “ your begging would fall deaf on his ears as he roughened up his thrusts pulling you back by your hair “ let me see that fuckin face yea? “ you could only nod bring to dumb to know what to say as your legs quivered pulling out an orgasm from you

[ichorai]

little dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

part two ; water dragon.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; he was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest.

words ; 5.8k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), fantasy, established relationship (married), pregnant au

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex, tiny bit of oral (f recieving), breeding and praise kink, pregnancy/childbirth, vhagar cameo, aegon being a menace, foul language, aemond being a good husband/dad unlike his own father, so sorry if the valyrian grammar isn't completely correct ;-; if anyone gets the bert & ernie tully reference you deserve a million dollars

main masterlist.

It happened in the dead of night. When the winds quietened to but a feathery whisper, when the moon shone white and gold and silver, when the fires in the hearth of your chambers had waned to a soft orange glow.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” he whispered against the flushed skin of your neck, traveling downwards to softly kiss along your clavicle. His voice was gravely and rich, soaked with honey and ocean salt. The sapphire within his eye glinted with the dim lighting of the sparse candles scattered around your chambers, and you craned your head to press a kiss upon his scar, your nose slotted against his cheekbone. 

My love was what he’d said—you didn’t know much Valyrian, still trying your best to study during your free hours, but your husband called you that often enough for you to recognize the affectionate words. 

One of your hands was buried within his silken silver hair, tugging in tandem with his swift, fluid motions. The other clawed down his toned back, leaving angry red trails in its wake. A strained cry fell from your kiss-swollen lips as you rocked your hips against his. 

Aemond held your waist in a tight grip, thumbs brushing against the sides of your ribs with every stroke of his throbbing cock within your slick, heated cunt. His lips, his tongue, his teeth—all blistering, scorching, searing with need. 

“Sīr sȳz syt nyke, ñuha embar.” So good for me, my sea. He was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest. A guttural groan tapered his voice to a close when you clenched around him, his susurrating praises mumbled against your breast sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. His rapid, desperate string of Valyrian fell upon deaf ears, buzzing with pleasure. Stars colored your vision a blinding white when one of his hands relinquished his hold on you to snake down your abdomen, pressing his long fingers against your clit.

“Aemond!” you just about sobbed, legs curling around his waist to pull him closer. You were insatiable, cracking your eyes open once more, a thin film of tears warbling over your widened gaze. “Oh, please, please—!”

A gasp caught in your throat as he thrust into you with more power than before, but froze once he was completely sheathed within your throbbing cunt. “Please, what? Have I fucked you stupid already, jorrāelagon, hm? Dragon got your tongue?” he hummed in mild amusement, regarding your beautiful, sweaty form with a hungry, lustful expression, eyebrows cocked as he waited for your answer. 

Part of you wanted to snarl at him, tell him to keep moving, but the other half of you wanted to cry and plead and beg for his cock.

Knowing your husband, he would’ve been quite pleased with either. 

“I want you to finish inside me,” you breathed out, lips brushing the shell of his ear, eyes half-hooded with want. “Fuck me full of your cum, valzȳrys.”

His cock grew impossibly harder within you, throbbing almost painfully—whether it was because of you calling him husband in his native language, or because of your devilish tongue laving upon a sensitive spot on his neck, he couldn’t quite tell. Expression hardening, he grabbed at your hips and yanked himself out of you, before flipping you onto your stomach and swiftly breaching your entrance in no less than three seconds, earning him a shriek of surprise which winded into a litany of breathless moans and blubbering pleas. 

And yet, he remained still, cock stretching you out so deliciously well—but he wasn’t moving. You sobbed with frustration, burying your face into the feather-pillow in front of you, muffling your desperate cries. Aemond’s growl thundered through his throat, and he slid his hand into your hair and tugged you up flush against his chest, so he could hear your obscene noises loud and clear. His free hand creeped down between your trembling thighs, where his middle finger only barely grazed over your clit, despite your fruitless attempts to buck your hips up to meet his touch.

“Ask me again nicely, ñuha embar,” he whispered, placing a loving kiss to the side of your temple. “In my mother tongue—you remember all those lessons I gave you, no?”

You wanted to curse at him. Your Valyrian lessons with him were the very last thing on your mind at the moment. Thoughts hazy, you murmured out a bit shakily, “Kostilus, qogralbar nyke, Aemond. Ta… Tatagon iemnȳ, kostilus.” 

Please, fuck me, Aemond. Finish inside, please.

He hummed in satisfaction as he pressed sweet kisses along the curve of your shoulder. He gently pulled out and began to roughly thrust back up into you as soon as you moaned out, “Nyke jorrāelagon ao!”

I need you!

A broken sigh tumbled from your throat when he finally began to fuck you just the way you wanted, knowing that your climax was drawing near. You had no chance of lasting when he began to circle the pads of his fingers against your clit. 

“Iksā sīr sȳz. Sīr, sīr sȳz, ñuha embar,” he said, chest rumbling with each word. You feel so good. So, so good, my sea. “Avy jorrāelan, avy jorrāelan, dōna ābrazȳrys.” I love you, I love you, sweet wife.

You preened with his praise, arching your spine and pushing your hips back to match his quick pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, of your arousal rang loud and true throughout your chambers, bouncing off the stone walls and ricocheting back to you, heat spidering over your skin upon hearing your own lust. 

“Tatagon syt nyke,” he growled, motions growing erratic and hurried. Cum for me.

With one final moan, you collapsed against him, cunt spasming tightly around his dick as you toppled down from the edge, pushing Aemond over the brink as well, spurts of warm cum painting your cunt. Despite the both of you already coming down from your highs, Aemond rocked into you a couple more times, kissing your sweaty hairline over and over again as he showered you with muted praise. The sticky substance dripped down the insides of your legs once he gingerly pulled out of you with a low sigh. He reached down to collect it and abruptly stuffed his cum-slickened fingers back into your cunt, wrangling a sharp intake of breath from you.

He chuckled lightly, pulling his hand back out and dragging his tongue over his finger to taste the filthy mix of your essence with his seed, before winding his arm around you to allow you to do the same. You whimpered around his fingers, sucking on the digits slowly—Aemond could feel his cock growing hard again. 

With a pleased hum, he languidly set you back down on the bed so he could lay beside you, pulling his hand away from your mouth with a lewdly wet pop. 

“I love you,” you croaked, throat parched and voice hoarse from all your moaning, an utterly blissful grin stretching your swollen lips.

Aemond cupped your face within his palms and pressed a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. “And I you, my dear sea.”

MOON ONE.

“It’s been a moon since you’ve bled, my lady,” your handmaiden, Lailena, commented, a knowing excitement to her gaze. “Could that mean…?”

In truth, you haven't told anyone about your pregnancy just yet. Nobody knew except you and the maester, who’d sworn himself to secrecy with a kind, understanding smile. It’d been a couple days since you found out, and you were still trying to find a way to tell your beloved husband. In the meantime, you were enjoying the peaceful privacy of knowing that it was only you who knew of the babe growing within you. No doubt when the news would inevitably break out, Alicent and Aemond would be hovering over you like overprotective hawks. 

Not being able to contain your smile, you grasped your handmaiden’s hands within yours. “You’re not to tell a soul, Lailena. I still have yet to inform the prince.”

Your handmaiden mimicked locking her lips shut, a beautiful smile etching across her features. “I am so happy for you, my lady. If you need anything—anything at all, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, my dear,” you hummed, patting her cheek affectionately. You had a soft spot for your young handmaiden—having stopped her from being sold into a whorehouse against her will at the ripe age of ten-and-two. “Will you please draw me a bath? I’d like to wash the day’s labor off of me.”

Not ten minutes later, you were sighing in relief as you sank into a tub of warm water, the heat a relief for your tense muscles. You let your eyelids slide shut, lolling your head against the bath’s edge. 

A familiar pair of hands settled upon your bare shoulders, and you didn’t have to look to know that it was your husband coming to check in on you.

“Rytsas, ñuha jorrāelagon,” he hummed, kneeling by the gilded tub’s edge and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. Hello, my love.

“Aemond.” You shifted so you could face him, the water sloshing about with your movements. Nervousness was eating away at your insides, and you thought that no time would be better than now, where nobody else would bother you. “My darling husband, I have something to tell you.”

For a brief moment, worry flashed across Aemond’s expression, afraid something was wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing bad,” you reassured him, a soft smile hanging onto the corner of your lips when he leaned forward to rest his forehead over yours. “At least, I hope it’s not.”

He remained mute, wordlessly urging you to continue. 

“I am with child.”

There were exactly three seconds of silence, presumably Aemond taking time to fully comprehend what you’d just told him. And then, a rare, beautiful smile overtook his usually impartial expression, his heart skipping over several beats with the realization that he was going to be a father. 

“You’re not jesting, embar?” he whispered, nose nudging yours. “Because this would surely be a cruel joke.”

Mirroring his growing elation, you let yourself beam brightly, craning your neck to kiss him properly. “I’m not jesting, Aemond,” you murmured, trailing your lips up to freckle kisses over the marred skin of his scar, and around his eyepatch, which you itched to yank off. 

“My love,” he said, struggling to find words for how he was feeling. Overjoyed? Shocked? Scared? “This is… you’re so… wonderful. This is wonderful. Avy jorrāelan. I love you, more than anything—and our little dragon.”

You scoffed, pulling away from him with raised brows. “Dragon? You forget I am a Tully, dear husband—they will be half my blood.”

With an affectionate roll of his eye, Aemond lifted his hand to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Alright, alright. Half-dragon, half-trout, then.”

“Fire and water.” You nodded in satisfaction at the compromise, your jubilated smile stolen away with a kiss from your sweet husband.

MOON TWO.

Aemond felt the bed shift as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress. A small noise of discontent rumbled in his throat as he propped himself onto his elbow, vision still adjusting to the darkness. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered, voice still gravely with slumber, twinged with confusion. “The hour is still early, my love. The sun has yet to rise.”

You hummed, leaning down to kiss his cheek, before rising onto your feet, shrugging on a silken green robe. “I have a sudden craving for honey cakes. I’m going down to the kitchens to see if they have any left from yesterday’s supper.”

“Now?” queried your husband, seeming partially miffed, and partially amused. He roused from the bed himself, sliding on a loose tunic so his chest wasn’t bare, and followed you out of your shared chambers and into the hall. “What brings about such a queer craving? You’ve never been particularly fond of honey cakes before.”

Subconsciously, you rested a hand on your stomach. “It must be the babe. I’ve been having the strangest cravings the past few days. Around a fortnight ago, I wanted to have nothing but apple fritters—those ones with cinnamon glaze, you know? For a while, everything else made me feel sick.”

A ghost of a smile graced Aemond’s lips. “I remember—mother said you were looking rather green at the mess table.”

You scowled at the memory, which spurred Aemond to huff out a laugh and tug you closer into his side. 

“My little dragon is a picky one,” he murmured, glancing down to where your hand hovered over your belly, still having yet to show physical signs of the pregnancy. “This is a good thing, ñuha dōna embar. They must already know their worth.”

Once in the kitchens, a part of the castle neither of you had ever ventured in before, Aemond scoured around for the blasted honey cakes you craved for so badly, and found them in a small container on the highest shelf. He pulled them down and handed one to you, grinning ever so softly when you didn’t even give yourself time to properly thank him before shoving one into your mouth and moaning around the pastry. 

Aemond kissed your temple and took a bite of his own piece of honey cake to appease your pleading urges for him to try it, even though it was far too sweet for his taste.

MOON THREE.

 You were beginning to show, and Aemond couldn’t be happier.

“Our dragon is growing,” he’d say every morning without fail, a prideful gleam to his eyes. “And you have never been more beautiful, dōna ābrazȳrys.” Sweet wife. 

That afternoon, he brought you down to the dragonpit where Vhagar was nesting with her brand new clutch of eggs, wanting to introduce his little dragon to his much larger one. You watched with wide eyes as her bronze, spiny tail curled around four scaled eggs, each a different shade of copper. It was a miracle that a dragon of her old age laid a clutch of eggs at all, much less four of them. 

“Do not be afraid, embar,” he whispered, noticing your stiff movements and your hesitant steps, despite the brave facade you tried to hold on. “Vhagar will not hurt you.”

At the sound of her name, the dragon lifted her head, bright green eyes shifting to her master, then to you. She huffed out a small plume of warm smoke in greeting.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” commanded Aemond, placing a hand on her snout and gently urging you to come closer. “It’s alright, love. She can sense the dragon inside you.”

Still a bit tentative, you shakily lifted a hand and laid it beside Aemond’s, stroking the warm scales of her large nose. Emerald eyes shining, Vhagar’s chest rumbled, and she dipped forward ever so slightly, slotting her hot muzzle against your belly, as if acknowledging the babe inside you. 

Aemond smiled, his one eye creasing at the corners. “She likes you.”

“Though I have never been more petrified in my life…” you began softly, patting Vhagar’s snout and grinning widely, “I like her, too.”

“What do you say we pick an egg for our little dragon, hm?” asked your husband, commanding Vhagar to stay as Aemond led you to the beautiful quartet of shiny eggs. 

MOON FOUR.

You leaned against the intricate stone railing of the balcony attached to your chambers, breathing in the fresh morning air. You had woken up early—much earlier than you usually did, unable to fall back asleep because of the baby constantly moving inside you. 

Not too long after, your husband stepped out onto the balcony as well, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Neither of you said anything, perfectly content on basking in each other’s comfortable silence. 

His hand laid upon your slightly rounded stomach, rubbing gentle circles over the thin fabric of your sleeping shift. The first birds of the day chirped as the sun rose, spilling golden light over the two of you. 

You leaned back into him with a pleased sigh. “Helaena has asked me to come watch the twins today. I’m rather excited for them to meet the babe.”

Humming, Aemond nuzzled his nose into your cheek. “I’m excited to meet my little dragon, as well.”

MOON FIVE.

Since you’d been having trouble sleeping as of late, Aemond found that fucking you to exhaustion was one of the few ways to get you to sleep soundly throughout the night. It was either that, or he could read philosophical books to you in Valyrian. 

And though he quite enjoyed reading to you, the prince much preferred the former option.

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he hummed deeply, bordering on a growl, thrusting back into your sensitive, slick cunt. My beautiful wife. “I’ve fucked you full hundreds of times and yet you always want more. I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything, sweet embar.”

A low moan slipped from your throat and you desperately pulled his face to you, your lips meeting in a feverish manner. He grunted into your mouth when you clenched around his lengthy girth, nails raking angry red lines down his shoulders to the middle of his back. 

“Aemond!” you cried, bucking your hips up to meet his, lips parting in a tantalizing manner. 

Your eyes slipped shut with the overwhelming pleasure, but Aemond grasped your chin, softly grunting out, “Keep them open, love. I want to see you when you come all over my cock.”

The intense eye contact made your body flush with a certain heat, hurtling you ever so close to your climax. Your husband snuck a hand between you to draw slow circles on your aching clit, and you were abruptly slammed into your third orgasm, the first two stolen from Aemond’s silver tongue and long fingers, respectively. 

Utterly spent, you trailed kisses over Aemond’s cheek, up to his scarred eye. He had slowed down to a gentle rock, cock still stiff and aching within you. “You can move, Aem,” you whispered, placing a tender kiss to the very tip of his nose. “I want you to cum inside—I want my cunt to be dripping with your seed.”

And he groaned at your lewd words, dipping back down to meet your lips once more, all teeth and tongue. His breath hitched as he began moving once more, your soaked core feeling like absolute heaven. 

“Mmh, fuck!” he growled, emptying inside you, catching himself with his elbow when he collapsed, thankfully before he could crush you or the babe. “So good for me, dōna embar.” 

A low whine emitted from your lungs when he slowly pulled out, holding your legs apart to observe his spend leaking out of your fluttering cunt. 

Much to your simultaneous dismay and pleasure, Aemond just couldn’t resist, swiftly moving down to drag his tongue from your cunt up to your clit, grumbling an expletive at your taste. 

“Aemond!” you yelped, flinching away with overstimulation, lightly swatting at his shoulders with a laugh. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me,” you said, grinning when he moved back up with an apologetic smile, dark sapphire glinting with the flickering candles lit about your chambers.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You taste heavenly.” Finally, he settled back onto the bed behind you, pulling you flush against his chest. “Get some rest, Y/N. I plan on tasting you on the morrow. Perhaps you can ride my face again.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you murmured in response, not having listened to anything he’d said, already drifting halfway into sleep. 

You slipped into a deep slumber with Aemond’s arm protectively slung over your baby bump.

MOON SIX.

You were grateful that you no longer grew sick at the sight of a regular supper. You weren’t quite sure how long you would’ve lasted on honey cakes and apple slices alone. 

Dinner that night was a warm, peppered vegetable stew with loaves of steaming bread to mop it up with. There were other courses, such as honey-glazed venison, and slow-roasted pork belly—the latter of which Aemond avoided entirely despite Lucerys’ hushed giggling from across the table. Initially, he’d wanted to stride across the room and strangle the smug expression off the younger boy’s face, but one look at your stern, disapproving countenance made him hesitate, before begrudgingly digging back into his food.

He was to be a father soon. What example would he set for his child if he were to go about beating his nephews every other minute?

Lucerys was not the only one who stirred trouble at the table that evening. 

Rhaenyra and Helaena were pleasant for the most part, querying about your pregnancy and giving their own advice from their previous experiences. Baela and Rhaena were also kind to you, eagerly asking if you had any names picked out for the babe. You told them that you haven’t yet thought about it, sheepishly smiling. “If you have any ideas, I’m more than willing to listen,” you told the younger girls, which made them beam brightly with excitement. You didn’t know the two nearly as much as you wished to, but you were willing to try and build bridges between the steadily distancing sides—bridges that Aemond, as much as you loved your husband, was keen on burning. 

Alicent was silent for most of the time, only pitching in every so often to make passive-aggressive remarks to Rhaenyra, and occasionally trying to compliment you with a strained smile. As Aemond was her most beloved child, she’d always wanted to be closer to his dear wife, but found it troublesome to bond with you when you were so very fond of Rhaenyra. 

The men at the table, on the other hand, were an entirely different story. Jacaerys and Daemon quietly spoke to one another, but were rudely interrupted by Aegon spilling wine all over Jace’s lap. He drunkenly proclaimed it to be a slip of his hand, a mere accident—but everyone at the table knew he’d done it on purpose. Jacaerys was visibly stiff, but held his tongue, fist clenching and unclenching around a silver fork. 

“I pity your betrothed, I really do,” simpered Aegon to his nephew, hiccupping as he downed some more wine. The rest of the chatter at the table halted to watch the drunken Prince blubber on further. “How will you please her in bed if you haven’t the faintest clue where to put your cock?”

“Aegon!” Alicent admonished sharply, eyes wide and jaw set.

The eldest Prince waved his mother away, standing up abruptly, brandishing another chalice full to the brim with alcohol. You briefly wondered where all these cups were coming from. Then, Aegon rounded his gaze on you and Aemond at the other end of the table. “See, my dearest brother has figured out how to do it! Look, his wife is all round with his first child—perhaps the next could be mine. It matters not which Targaryen fucks you, it’s not like you can tell the difference when the babe comes out. Your Tully whore of a wife probably wouldn’t even mind, brother! I’d bet all my coin every guard in this room has sullied her already!” 

In a blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, lips curled into a snarl. Alicent also stood up, glancing between her two boys worriedly, afraid a fight would break out. 

You were the last one to rise, placing a hand on Aemond’s arm. He seemed to soften beneath your touch, glancing back to look at you briefly, nonverbally making sure that you were alright.

You shook your head, glaring harshly at Aegon, before turning on your heel and marching out of the mess hall, leaving a portion of your dinner largely untouched. 

It took everything within Aemond not to clamber onto the table and throw his fist into his older brother’s arrogant, drunken face. He longed to resort to physical violence—after all, Aemond was taller and stronger and quicker than him, and would easily best his brother in a fight. But his urge to be by your side was far greater, so he settled with scathing words and a lingering threat.

“You are a foul excuse of a brother, Aegon. If you ever dare to insult my wife again, I will carve out your tongue myself and feed it to my dragon.”

With that, Aemond stormed out of the hall, strides quickening so he could catch up with you. On his way out, he faintly heard his mother trying her best to patch up the situation, rambling in a panicked fashion, “Aemond doesn’t mean it, Aegon. Sit down and finish your supper, will you?”

Aemond rolled his one eye. He’d meant every last word of what he said. 

When he finally caught up to you, you were already in your chambers, gently wiping the dampness of your frustrated tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, tugging you into his chest and stroking the back of your head. “My brother is a drunken fool. Do not take his crude words to heart. He is not worth your tears.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond,” you murmured into the fabric of his tunic, blowing out a calming sigh. “You didn’t have to follow me, though… you didn’t get to finish your supper.”

He blew out a mildly amused huff. “Neither did you, dōna embar.” Sweet sea. How you adored the affectionate nickname he called you. “I love you. And I would follow you to the ends of this world if I had to—even if it meant missing a bit of supper.”

It felt as if your heart was melting through the confines of your ribs, and you could only lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You are everything to me, my darling Aemond. I love you, too.”

MOON SEVEN.

The baby was kicking again. Nonstop, for the past three hours.

You glared down at your swollen belly, before uncomfortably shifting on the bed until you were sitting upright. The babe kicked once more, as if sensing your annoyance. You couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. 

From beside you, Aemond looked away from the thick history tome he was reading and tilted his head. He’d thought you were already asleep. “The hour grows late, ñuha jorrāelagon. What troubles you so?”

With an exhausted sigh, you laid your head upon his shoulder, and Aemond immediately shut the book and placed it off to the side. 

“The babe,” you said, threading your hand with one of his and tracing shapes along the back of his palm. “They haven’t stopped kicking since I got out of my bath and I can hardly sleep more than a few winks. Though, I can’t say I can complain—Lailena says the ones who kick more will grow to be strong warriors.”

A small, satisfied smirk flitted over your husband’s sharp features. “Of course they’re kicking around—they’re a dragon after all.”

“Trout-dragon,” you reminded him, a soft smile to your lips. 

Aemond barked out a laugh. “Dragon-trout.” His free hand came around to place it on the center of your belly, and he sucked in an astonished breath when he felt the baby moving around beneath his palm. He met your eyes, shining with pride and adoration—for both you and the babe within you. “They’re a true Targaryen. We’ve never been too keen on sitting still.”

“So this is your fault,” you bit out, drawing yourself away from his shoulder to narrow your tired eyes at your husband. “I just want to sleep!”

His purple iris glinted salaciously. The hand on your belly began inching further down between your legs. “Maybe I just need to tire you out, hm?”

“No, I’m already so very tired,” you murmured, melting beneath his touch. Immediately, Aemond retracted his fingers, cupping your face and pressing sweet kisses over your heavy eyelids. 

“I’m sorry, love. What can I do?”

With a grateful slant of your lips, you settled yourself into his side once again. “Read to me, please. You have a very beautiful voice—it’s especially soothing in Valyrian.”

Humming, Aemond reached over to grab the history tome once more, flicking it open to where he’d left off. 

The Prince began reading the tale of Aegon’s Conquest out loud for you, his Valyrian effortlessly smooth, like pure honey to your ears. Not even three pages deep, you had already given into the alluring promise of sleep, cheek smushed against his shoulder. Aemond kept reading anyway, placing a hand on your belly, certain that his child could hear his low voice.

“One day you and I will be in one of these books,” he told the babe, a wistful smile on his face. “And our great, great, grandchildren will be reading about us and the many adventures we’ll go on.”

MOON EIGHT.

The fire crackled hungrily as Aemond kindled the greedy flames with a fresh wedge of wood. 

“What do you think of Jacaelar?” your husband asked. “It’s a fine name for a son.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know—their nickname would be Jace, and you’re not particularly fond of the Jace we already know. What about a Tully name? How does Bert sound for a boy?”

“No.”

“Ooh, what about Ernie?”

Aemond grimaced. With a laugh, you playfully rolled your eyes. “Alright, alright. We’ll stick to Valyrian names.”

After a moment’s silence, Aemond suggested, “Vaeron?”

“Yes, I rather like that one.” You grinned. “Do you like Daera for a girl?”

Your husband sat down on the plush chaise beside you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s a good name—though my younger brother Daeron might think we named our child after him, and I’d really rather not inflate his ego. I like the name Visera. There’s also Rhaelor, Jahaela, Haerys, Saelyra—”

“Oh, it’s just too many to choose from!” you exclaimed, cutting his extensive list off and sinking further into your seat. “We can just call the babe Aemond the Second and be done with it.”

With a chortle of laughter, Aemond shook his head, fine silver strands of hair tickling your cheek when he drew you close into his side. “And what if our little dragon is a girl?”

“Then we call her Aemonda. I don’t know,” you harrumphed, crossing your arms. Aemond lightly pinched your thigh. After another second, you gently proposed, “... Syraena sounds lovely. Don’t you think so?”

Humming, Aemond bowed his head. “Syraena. It is a lovely name.”

You rubbed your hands over your distended stomach. “Do you know if you’d rather have a son or a daughter?”

He took a moment to consider your question before quietly replying, “I care naught for the babe’s sex—they will be my blood, regardless. My little dragon.” Before you could correct him, he hastily added, “Trout. Dragon-trout.”

The two of you began cracking up with silent laughter, and you turned to watch the fire burn away, small golden embers floating up from the hearth. 

You heard your husband murmur Syraena beneath his breath once more, clearly content with the name. A glowing beam graced your expression. 

NINE MOONS.

The birthing was the most painful experience you’d ever gone through. There were tears streaming down your face, and your hair was damp with sweat. Aemond was by your side, loyal as ever, clutching your hand and murmuring sweet words of encouragement, uncaring of the impropriety of a man in the birthing room. He’d gone so far as to threaten the guards when they first told him that he should be waiting outside, enjoying the celebration being held in your and the babe’s name. 

“Try to keep me from my wife and I will decorate the floor with your guts,” he growled, his single eye burning with a thirsty flame.

The guards didn’t bother him after that.

“Oh, it hurts! Aemond, Aemond, please, it hurts,” you sobbed, another wave of pain washing over your body. “I need the baby out! Come out, come out, come out!” you screamed, skin burning hotly as more sweltering tears meandered down your perspiring face.

“It’ll be over soon, embar, you’re doing so well,” assured your husband, even though he looked every bit as terrified as you did, perhaps even more so. Gods forbid such a thing to happen, but if Aemond were to lose you to the perilous task of childbirth, he didn’t think he could ever live with himself afterwards. 

The midwives began telling you to push, and you happily obliged, eager to get the labor over and done with. 

It was said that your screams shook the very ground, but that might’ve just been Aemond exaggerating the truth out of proportion. 

“Congratulations, my Prince,” said one of the midwives once you’d pushed and pushed and pushed until you nearly passed out from the strain, the babe finally coming out of you with a shrill cry. Aemond could feel his heart lurch at the sound. “You have a beautiful, healthy girl.”

“Do not congratulate me, it is Y/N that did all the work,” muttered your husband, kissing the back of your clammy hand and sweeping the hair sticking to your face aside. “You were wonderful, jorrāelagon.” His face bore nothing but radiant pride, a rare beam stretching his lips wide. 

He stood up, turning to the midwife to look upon his small, screaming daughter, who was quickly bound in a red woolen blanket. She handed him the babe, and Aemond gently situated her into his arms.

“You have the lungs of a dragon, little one,” he crooned, expression bearing little else than raw love and adoration for the tiny thing. With fluid movements, he kneeled down beside the birthing bed once more, easing the baby into your awaiting arms. 

An exhausted smile made its way onto your face when you took the baby, cooing, “Oh, so you’re the one always kicking around during the night. It’s nice to meet you… Syraena.”

The baby—your daughter—sported thin wisps of silvery hair, much like her father and her grandsire. Targaryen blood ran thick, after all.

You turned to grin at Aemond. “She has your nose,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion and love.

Little Syraena’s wailing began to wane away as you bounced her, and she cracked open her tiny eyes for a brief moment, blinking up at the two of you with a wide gaze.

“And she shares the color of your beautiful eyes, embar. Rytsas, Syraena,” greeted Aemond, expression soft and ever so tender. One of his fingers reached out to gently stroke her soft, chubby cheek. For several moons, he’d read to her when she was still in the womb, and he wondered if she could recognize the sound of his voice. 

“My little dragon…” Aemond murmured. “My sea dragon.”

[animehideout]

I think a lot about jjk men being angry because their gamer girlfriend ignores them 😩

(sorry for the writing, english is not my first language

JJK Men x Gamer GF

a/n: Hello anon thank you so much for your request. I had fun writing this one. I really hope you like it 🫶🏻

( Requests are open )

Characters: Gojo Satoru / Toji Fushiguro / Ryomen Sukuna / Nanami Kento.

Gojo Satoru:

Satoru has been very busy with endless missions lately, getting home really late.

To ease your lonliness, you started gaming.

Well till it turned into addiction.

You were kinda mad at him for not making time for you or at least speak to the higher-ups to take some days off.

But you never talked that out with him, since you didn't have the chance to express yourself.

He surprisingly arrived early tonight, excited to spend the night cuddling with you while watching movies.

But he didn't expect you to have your eyes glued on the screen in front of you while gaming like a maniac.

The room echoed with the sounds of keystrokes and game music.

He jumped in excitement to surprise you but no reaction.

“huh? baby! Im hooome”

“hey” you smiled unenthusiastically at him and quickly turned your focus back on your game.

He raised his eyebrow, watching as you delve into your virtual world, a world seemingly more captivating than his presence.

Would try everything to bring your attention towards him.

He knows his touch makes you weak, so he leaned in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head, wishing to draw your attention away from your screen.

“I missed you so much babygirl”

His attempt failed miserably, you just hummed in return completely ignoring him.

When his affection didn't work he started teasing you attempting to provoke you and get a reaction out of you.

“You sure you can play this game? I feel like you suck at this”.

When his teasing fell on a deaf ear as well, his frustration reached its peak.

His calm and amused voice turned into an annoyed tone.

“ARE YOU REALLY GONNA IGNORE ME FOR THAT STUPID GAME Y/N?” he would yell in an unusual harsh tone.

The question hang in the air as it left you momentarily stunned.

“Why the hell are you yelling?” you would question.

“Oh so now I got your attention?! I've been trying to talk to you for half an hour now and all what you did is playing your stupid game”.

His anger was very evident.

He would remove his blindfold throwing it somewhere in your shared bedroom.

“So you got mad because I was focusing on playing my game but you didn't consider that I'm probably the one who's mad because you're never home” you let out of everything, confronting him.

“you're comparing this stupid game to my job?”

Oh boy he fucked up, he didn't get the whole point.

After raging and snapping at you he would give you the silent treatment.

Of course his narcissistic ass wouldn't apologize first.

He's convinced that it's your fault even though he was offensive as well.

You would eventually say sorry and he'll show you his bright smile at the spot.

Both of you would talk things out and find a solution to spend more time together.

“so we good now baby?...can we cuddle?”

“yeah Satoru just lemme finish this round” you would joke.

Toji Fushiguro:

As much as he enjoys your giggles and the way you throw cute tantrums while playing, he HATES IT when you're completely engrossed in your game, oblivious to the way he's sitting there watching you.

Kinda paradoxical.

He wished to have you in his arms.

Or having you on his lap while making out.

But all of these were just thoughts crossing his mind cuz you don't seem like you're finishing your game any time sooner.

And that annoyed him to the core.

“y/n, y/n ?”

“HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE”.

You didn't even hear him with having your headset on.

He's very possessive of you and he wants all of your attention to himself.

Especially when you started chatting with your friends, while playing together.

That shit was his last straw.

“Thats it...get your ass over here y/n”

You would look at him in disbelief.

Mouthing “my friends heard you”

“oh trust me I don't give A SINGLE FUCK” he would yell again.

You apologized to your friends and quickly paused the game.

“Are you out of your mind Toji why did you say that”.

“Why did you apologize to your friends while I'm the one you should apologize to”

He would stand up approaching you, narrowing his eyes, clearly pissed.

His giant figure making you take a step back, trapping you between him and your desk.

“Now what should I do to you for ignoring me for too long huh?” he whispered.

You started stuttering, his strong aura did things to you.

His narrow eyes piercing through you, sending shivers down your spine.

“I- I'm s-sorry” you gulped.

“What a good girl...now turn off that computer before I smash it and get your ass on the bed”

Well you had no other options, so you obeyed him.

Unless you want to act bratty which will result in him punishing the hell out of you.

Would spend the whole night cuddling you, literally smashing you in his strong arms, never letting go of you. 🫶🏻🥹

“But Toji I really need to use the bathroom”.

“Nuh-uh”.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Two possibilities, whether you're too bold or you're suicidal and have a death wish to test this man's patience.

They just released this new game and you're completely obsessed with it.

You would spend hours playing it, luckily Sukuna was busy with some things so he didn't notice the way that game took your whole attention and energy.

He wants to be the one taking all of your time and energy.

But when he does notice, oh god, run or pray for your life.

“y/n come here let me kiss you”

“one second!!!”

He would look at you in disbelief.

Cocking his eyebrow, while leaning back .

Even though your back was facing him, you could feel the daggers he was sending your way.

“I said NOW”

“Please baby, I'm winning be there in a sec-”

You didn't even get to finish your sentence when he threw your whole set up off of your desk.

Your eyes would widen in shock.

You don't know if you should feel sad that your whole gaming set up got destroyed or scared that you're the one about to get destroyed.

“You dare to ignore me.. that's bold of you y/n” he would say in his deep voice, making your chest tighten.

“I'll only allow this once, there won't be a second time... do you understand?”

You would nod immediately.

He would throw you on his shoulder taking you to your shared bedroom.

“You need to be taught a lesson after all”

Of course he wouldn't apologize that he got angry at you.

I mean, it's Sukuna we're talking about.

The next day, Sukuna would surprise you with a new gaming computer with complete setup.

You've never imagined him doing this gesture but you truly appreciated that the king of curse actually considered your feelings.

“I don't understand what humans find so entertaining in this game... you should try murder is much more fun..”

You would happily unbox it and place it on your desk.

“Now, Doll next time when I tell you to stop you stop immediately without any stupid excuses”.

Nanami Kento:

Would be home after a long day at work.

Brings dinner with him and expects both of you to eat together while talking about your day and future plans for the weekend.

Only to find you in a dark room, only your computer screen glowing.

“y/n I'm home darling!”

“oh hey there baby” you would simply say eyes still glued on the game.

He wouldn't think much of it even though you were used to jump on him, embracing him in a long hug and telling him how much you missed him.

But lately all what you've been occupied with is this game.

Would give you space, while he takes his time to shower, prepare the table for both of you to have dinner.

“y/n dinner is ready, let's eat”

“yeah yeah I'll be there in a sec Kento” you said, agressively pressing the buttons on your controller.

He would sigh and head to the kitchen, to wait for you there.

Half an hour has passed, an hour and you didn't show up yet.

“shit” you said to yourself when you checked the time.

You ran downstairs to find him on the couch watching TV.

You slowly approached him and sat next to him.

“ken-”

“you don't have to say anything y/n”.

Your heart ached because you know you screwed up.

He would ignore you, his eyes fixated on the big screen in front of him.

You would place your hand on his lap but he would reject you.

“Kento please”

He would start lecturing you.

“You know, that was extremely childish y/n.. I've been waiting for us to have dinner together since the moment I left the morning.. that's what keeps me going.. knowing that I'll come back home to find you..but you did what? you ignored me”

He would be really furious but he kept it to a low and cold tone.

No matter how much he gets pissed he'll never raise his voice at you.

You would look down, embarrassed and feeling extremely guilty.

“I'm your husband y/n , lately you're not fulfilling your duties towards me like I do to you..”.

He is a responsible man, and he believes in efforts from both sides.

You would end up crying.

And he'll end up apologizing even though it was your mistake from the beginning.

He hates seeing you cry, especially because of him.

He regretted getting angry at you.

Between sobs you managed to explain to him that you were trying to win an award by getting the first place in this game.

Would bring you to his chest, holding you close.

“shh I'm sorry.. that's okay. I understand. I'm sorry if my words were harsh”

Would wipe your tears.

Doesn't go to work the next day and spends the day with you while you teach him how to play.

Thank you for reading (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)⁠ ⁠~⁠♪

[ma-yawntu]

mine, all mine. iii.

chapter three: fare well

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: Meeting with potential mates made you want to drown yourself, but what annoyed you even more was how much relief he provided.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: some rude guy, fluffy, neteyam being so damn respectful, parental pressure

now playing... birds of a feather by billie eilish

chapter one | chapter two | masterlist

You were sure this was the absolute worst part of being the daughter of the Olo’eyktan. You knew it was just part of life for you– but that didn’t mean you had to like it. You let your head rest in your palm as you sat in your family’s marui, the conversation you were supposed to be part of, falling on deaf ears. The stupid neck piece you were wearing was choking you and your head hurt from your freshly done braids. Every month or so, you were forced to suffer through a meal with a boy from the village your parents had picked for you and his parents while your parents tried not to give away their unbridled rage at how insolent you were being (mostly your mother).

“...isn’t that right?” Your father directed his attention toward you at the end of whatever it was he was saying. You could feel his eyes on you and you quickly looked between him, your mother and the family in front of you.

“Yeah… Yeah, sure,” you replied, completely uninterested and bored. Tonowari curled his lips inward before looking at the family in front of you with a nervous smile. Tonowari was always so sure that you would grow out of this rebellious phase when you were a child– finally cut him and your mother some slack after almost sending them to an early grave several times. But he was sorely mistaken.

“We must apologise A’tok, our daughter has been very busy with those forest Na’vi children– it has occupied a lot of her time,” your father quickly said. You could feel your mother’s eyes piercing the side of your head, surely burning two holes into your skull. “You understand.”

“Of course,” A’tok’s mother replied with a nervous smile, noticing the way the Tsahik glared at her daughter.

“Perhaps we should wrap this up?” A’tok’s father suggested. Thank Eywa someone in this marui had some semblance of sense. 

The moment A’tok and his parents left, Ronal spun around to look at you, eyes blown wide with anger. Your father rested his hands on your shoulders, bracing you for the verbal ass-kicking you were about to receive. 

“Must you embarrass us like that, ‘ite?” Your mother spat, her tone harsh. You felt your father flinch, his hands still resting on your shoulders. Your ears pinned back at her words, your tail twitching anxiously as she ran a hand down her face to calm herself. “A’tok is a nice boy, my daughter. You must think of the future of our clan, of your future–”

“A’tok is rude and arrogant,” you retorted, your voice low as you stared at the ground, jaw clenched in frustration. “He could not fill father’s role.”

Your mother sighed at that, your father gently rubbing the side of your arm. “I know that this is not what you want, ‘ite,” your mother sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “but this is how it is done. This is tradition.”

Tonowari shared a look with his mate before speaking, “but we still want you to find happiness,” he said, almost nervous as to how his mate would react. Ronal gave him an annoyed look– while she had the luxury of love in her relationship, not everyone before her was so lucky, most of the time it was an agreement– a partnership rather than a union. 

“I do not think that is possible,” you mumbled, your parents glancing at one another. “May I go? I promised Reya I would be there to help her teach the Sully kids to ride the ilus,” you added, glancing up at your mother. 

“Yes, you may go,” Ronal nodded. Ronal shared a look with Tonowari as you left, feeling rather defeated after the morning’s events. You knew it would be the same thing next month and you would inevitably have to give in to your parents wishes. 

You walked through the village with your head hanging, lost in thought as you made your way to the main reef where your sister would be waiting. You didn’t understand why you had to be mated, why you and your sister or brother could not share the responsibility of leading the clan, you did not understand why it had to be you that was mated off. 

“Where are you going?” You almost screamed at the sound of A’tok’s voice behind you. He had been a pain in your ass since you were children and you wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. The idea of your parents thinking he was a suitable mate for you was disturbing beyond belief. The two of you were nothing alike– he was rude and cocky, always getting into fights and was far too angry to be the next Olo’eyktan. Sure, you could be hard-headed yourself at times, but you were at least considerate and knew how to have a conversation without talking about yourself.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business,” you retorted, continuing to walk away and ignore him. His hand suddenly reached out, clutching your upper arm as he forced you to turn to him. 

“If we are to be mated, I feel you should at least show me some respect,” he said, the stupid grin on his face making you want to punch it right off. 

“We are not going to be mated,” you spat back, reefing your arm out of his grasp to continue walking. You could see your sister in the shallow reef waving at you– at least you would be free of this interaction soon enough.

He grabbed your wrist again, this time tighter, “your parents seem to like me. You may not have a choice,” A’tok smiled cockily, his grip on your wrist beginning to hurt. You opened your mouth to start spewing off insults but that familiar accent beat you to it. 

“You have a lot of nerve putting your hands on the Olo’eyktan’s daughter,” Neteyam leaned against one of the thick trees that acted as supports for your village homes and pathways. His hair was wet, dripping all over the place as he stared A’tok down with a rather intense glare.

A’tok slowly removed his hand from your wrist and you gently rubbed at the irritated skin. “And who are you exactly? I’m sure she can handle herself.”

“Oh, I have no doubt she could,” Neteyam quickly replied, “but would you respect her disinterest in the likes of you?”

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you elected to bite at your lip to avoid escalating the situation. A’tok looked between you and Neteyam for a moment before scoffing and leaving, his tail swishing angrily as he walked away. 

“Are you okay?” Neteyam asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

“I could have handled that,” you retorted, making your way toward the beach.

“Yeah, you seemed to have it completely under control,” Neteyam chuckled, following close behind you. 

You rolled your eyes, “I have known him since we were children, he is harmless.”

“Sure, but you don’t touch the Olo’eyktan’s daughter– or anyone’s daughter for that matter,” Neteyam replied. You stopped in your tracks, turning to look at him.

“I do not need your protection, Neteyam,” you grumbled, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Didn’t think you did,” he replied.

“Eywa, you are so annoying,” you groaned, turning on your heel to wade into the water.

“I’ll pretend that was a ‘thank you’,” he called after you.

“And I am going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” you called back. 

Riding an ilu was probably one of your favourite pass times, you had been riding ilus since you were younger than Tuk and you enjoyed teaching the children of the village how to bond and ride with them, teaching an almost fully-grown forest Na’vi was a little more entertaining though. You stood waist-deep in the water beside Neteyam, your sister lovingly assigning you to him. You ran your hands along the thick skin of the ilu’s neck, soothing the creature. 

“You want to make the bond gently,” you said softly, pulling on the ilu’s kuru. Neteyam was clinging to every word you said, listening intently as you soothed the creature. The ilu happily clicked at you as you scratched along his chin. “Here,” you held the ilu’s kuru out for him. “Gently.”

Neteyam pulled on his queue, letting the pink tendrils reach out for the ilu’s, making tsaheylu as gently as possible. The ilu’s pupils dilated, the creature’s fins splashing in the water. Your brother began to laugh behind you and both you and Neteyam watched as Lo’ak was thrown from his ilu, the creature splashing him comically. 

“Maybe don’t do that,” you winced at Neteyam as he tried not to laugh at his brother. 

“I’ll try,” he replied with a nod.

“Hold here,” you gestured to the wooden handhold that wrapped around the top of the ilu’s kuru, “he will move fast so… just hold on,” you laughed. Neteyam let out a breath and nodded at your words, gently mounting the ilu. “Feel his breath and his strength, do not try to order him– move with him.”

“Right,” Neteyam said, his hand gripping the handhold. He seemed nervous, his knuckles turning a lighter shade of blue at how hard he was gripping.

You reached your hands over his larger hands before looking at him, “relax,” you muttered softly.

Neteyam watched you for a moment, the two of you just staring at each other before you cleared your throat, stepping away from him. Neteyam took in a shaky breath before the ilu moved forward through the water, cutting through the reef. Neteyam stayed close to the ilu’s body, the two of them zipping through the reef. 

You held your head underwater, watching him move with a stupid smile on your face. Neteyam emerged from the water, the ilu gently swimming back toward you. “You did it!” you beamed, rubbing the ilu’s snout softly.

“You’re a good teacher,” Neteyam said, panting softly. You gave him a look that told him you didn’t believe him, “I’m serious.”

“It helps that you seem like an overachiever,” you retorted, Lo’ak scoffing from behind you. Neteyam scooped some water up, splashing his brother. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon helping Tuk with her own much smaller ilu, the little Na’vi giggling with delight when the ilu happily nuzzled her chest. Kiri seemed to have a way with animals, able to bond with her ilu all on her own without you or your sister’s guidance. You rode your own ilu through the reef with Tuk and Kiri; Lo’ak and Tsireya off in their own little world. At least they had the luxury of getting to spend time together because they wanted to, you were forced to meet with idiots and their parents– hours of your time you’ll never get back.

When night finally swallowed the village, you urged the Sully family to join you and your family for the village’s communal dinner by the beach. Your clan did a communal dinner once every week as a way of spending time together around the bonfire and sharing stories, Tsireya insisted you ask the Sully family to join since they were now living among your people. Neytiri was hesitant to join, the arrangement reminding her too much of her home. Jake comforted her, the two of them sitting comfortably by the bonfire while you and Tsireya showed their kids around. 

You sat by the bonfire with your sister, your knee bumping with hers as you ate your meal. Lo’ak and Kiri came to join you, Lo’ak finding a comfortable place next to Tsireya (obviously).

“Hi, Lo’ak,” she greeted with a shy smile, you and Kiri sharing a knowing look with each other.

“Mind if I join you?” Neteyam’s voice made your ears prick up, your attention turning to the oldest brother. You gestured to the spot on the sand beside you, Neteyam taking a seat right by you, little Tuk coming to sit in front of you.

“I like your hair today,” Tuk said softly, some fruit juice smudged across her cheek. 

“Thank you, little Tuk,” you smiled, wiping some of the fruit off her face.

“It’s pretty,” she giggled, “right, Neteyam?”

Neteyam looked at his sister with widened eyes, mouth full of food. He quickly nodded his head, almost choking on his food as he quickly tried to answer, “yeah– yes. Very pretty.” You chuckled softly, moving some of your hair over your shoulder, suddenly growing insecure of his eyes on you, the intricate neck piece you were still wearing somehow growing tighter around your neck.

After almost everyone had departed the beach, Tsireya insisted you both walk the Sully kids back to their marui while their parents stayed behind with the other adults of the clan. You were sure it was just so she could spend more time talking to Lo’ak and she wanted to disguise her little scheme. 

Tuk held onto Kiri’s hand as she jumped along the woven path, you hanging back behind them while Neteyam trailed behind all of you. You could feel his eyes on you, peeking over your shoulder every now and then to catch him looking before he would glance at literally anything else. 

“Why are you staring at me?” You asked boldly, pausing to let him catch up with you.

“I am not,” he replied quickly.

“You most definitely are,” you retorted.

“Awful bold of you,” he chuckled.

“Well it’s hard to focus when you keep looking at me,” you grumbled, pursuing your lips at him. Neteyam chuckled lowly at your words.

“Making you nervous, am I?” he asked curiously, lowering his head slightly to your height.

You frowned, feeling your cheeks heat as you crossed your arms over your chest, “no.”

“Convincing,” he nodded.

“Shut up,” you retorted, earning a laugh from him.

He walked beside you at a respectable distance, not letting his shoulder bump yours like Lo’ak did with Tsireya. His words from earlier in the day rattled around in your head, noting how he was so adamant on not touching you– or anyone touching you for that matter. It made your heart thump a little louder and quicker in your chest, praying to Eywa he didn’t notice. 

“Will you teach me that finger talk thing you do?” Neteyam asked, changing the subject.

“Sign language you mean?” You chuckled softly.

“Yes, sign language,” he nodded. “I would like to learn.”

“Yes, I can teach you,” you replied. “Though, I think I might have to leave you in the capable hands of my sister since I’ll be busy.”

“Busy?” Neteyam asked curiously, “with what?”

You let out an annoyed sigh at the simple thought of it, “my parents want me to meet with potential mates around the village they have picked– while it is painful for me, it must be done,” you huffed.

Neteyam took in your words for a moment, “you are not allowed to choose?” 

“I can,” you added, “but I am taking too long… to be fair, I am quite harsh.”

“You?” Neteyam asked sarcastically, “no way.”

You playfully shoved his side with a grin on your face, “not funny.”

“I am joking,” he quickly said, regaining his posture after your weak shove, “I’m sure that must be difficult.”

“It’s not exactly fun,” you replied, “and I have to wear this stupid thing,” you sighed, pulling at the neck piece your parents insisted you wear. It was intricate and covered in various beads and shells– your mother had worn it and so did your grandmother, it seemed fitting you wore it too, as much as it pained you.

“It’s not stupid,” Neteyam said softly, “it’s not you though.”

“Not me?” you repeated.

“Just doesn’t seem like something you would like, that’s all,” he added. 

“And you know that, how?” you asked, genuinely curious as to what his reasoning might be. The two of you were beginning to lag behind the rest of his siblings without really noticing, lost in the conversation. It pained you to admit you actually enjoyed talking to him.

“Well, I mean, I don’t know you very well. But I know enough to know you wouldn’t enjoy wearing something like that,” Neteyam replied, slightly nervous.

You hummed, “well, you’re right.”

“But,” he started, a nervous breath leaving his lips, “I would like to get to know you more… if you’d like to know me too, you know?”

You laughed at his words softly, “that would be nice.”

You felt a smile pull at the corners of your lips, that had to be the first time someone has ever thought about what you would like without you telling them. It felt nice to be seen.

a/n: i apologise this is short! i have finals coming up :< pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

taglist: @s0urw00lf, @peqch-pie, @greatsstuffsposts

[ravenwilds]

Merthur Soulmate Fic Recs

For my @merlinbingo square I3, soulmarks

Strangled by the Red String of Fate by @idlestories

Explicit; 9,971 words; posted 2020; canon era

Idlestories writes the best banter between these two idiots and that's absolutely the case here! If you like this you should also read Nicest Thing, which might be my favourite ever Merlin fic (not soulmates).

“It has its roots in a legend from the east, sire. I believe it’s called the red string of fate.” “Fate?” Arthur said incredulously. “What, is he going to be the one to kill me?” “Getting more likely by the minute,” Merlin supplied.  ...

The Rebel, the Prat and the Unfortunate Soulbound by Leandra @nuttersinc

Teen; 10,310 words; 2022; canon era

I loved betaing this fic. It is pretty darn hot for a teen rated fic, and very funny. Rebellious, sassy Merlin and pining Arthur <3 - another reluctant soulmates one.

When Arthur tries to prevent the escape of prisoners in the dungeons, he's pulled into a tussle with a mouthy, unapologetic and irritating magic user. Turns out the dark-haired stranger with the criminal streak and terribly kissable mouth is Arthur's reluctant soulmate...

Bare Your Soul by Polomonkey

Teen; 4,256 words; 2021; modern era

Delightful, funny and completely in character case of reluctant-soulmates, mixed with a classic bit of they-didn’t-realise-they-were-dating. Two sides of the same idiot. Loved Kilgharrah in this too.

An accidental soulbonding leads Merlin and Arthur into counselling to get it dissolved.  If, of course, that's what they really want...

Let it be you by Amithia

Explicit; 33,323 words; 2021; modern era

This is funny, and hot, and has a great cast of characters, besides the main pair. All the phone messages are brilliant. And it's a coffee shop au. Reluctant soulmates with great banter.

This is all Gwen's fault. Merlin never wanted a stupid smartphone in the first place. Now, he has a smartphone and a supercilious, posh git bullying him on Whatsapp. He really should block the prat.

True Love by platonic_boner

Teen; 6,927 words; 2016; canon era

Recommended to me by my friend Seth and I loved it. Such a great concept and leading to delicious mix of mutual pining, light angst and funny misunderstandings.

AU where soulmates can’t lie to each other. (That’s okay, Merlin wasn’t planning to lie to Arthur anyways! Haha.. ha.. ha…)

And finally...

Honourable mention to Gamut by Nahara - great world-building in a contemporary/future country at war au. It's hot - there's quite an age difference so mind the tags if that's not your thing.

Also for something seasonal, Seth recommended Santa ain't got nothing on tone-deaf carollers by headfirstforwaywardhalos, which is also funny and I loved the concept for the soulmarks, which behave like mood rings.

[thefallenangelsgang]

Fuck it, I'm throwing my hat on the ring about the Emil announcing Nate from Fallout 4 is the bystander Soldier in the Fallout 1 opener.

First and foremost, it was a stupid thing to say. As he backtracks to later, the conceit of Fallout's protags is they are supposed to be anyone (and that issue is precisely why some people hate the extensive prewar character background given to you in Fallout 4). For the lead writer to pull a JK Rowling (why would you do that? None of those went over well) is such a major marketing misstep that it wouldn't surprise me if Emil gets reprimanded for it before we even get into the implication of what he said.

Emil your voice is as good as God when it comes to the canon. You can't just say shit like that and expect it to go well. Especially considering the implications.

Speaking of the implications, I'm not mad about Nate being a war criminal. It's a coloring I actually would welcome if the games discussed concepts like Capitalism, Racism, and War in any meaningful way anymore. And if Emil also didn't say this.

Fallout's canon is rooted in reality. That is part of its whole thing. It's fun to do goofy shit like becoming the Silver Shroud and having a make believe superhero fight with the Mechanist or write a woman obsessed with Nuka Cola so much she traverses two games to basically kidnap the CEO's cryogenically preserved head so she can talk to him for all eternity, but the setting is very much rooted in reality.

You aren't dealing with fictional countries, you aren't dealing with fictional races, you aren't dealing with fictional hypotheticals. That is The Elder Scrolls job. You are dealing with actual countries, actual racism, actual history, and actual fucking politics. You have to be mindful of what you are doing and saying. You can't just do things because it's an interesting plot device without first thinking about the implications.

Fallout's world is a heightened version of our own, a path we seem to stumble towards with ever passing year unless we do something about it. It fucking sucks. I'm sure writing it feels like prophesizing the future and eats your soul a bit. It would mine. But that doesn't mean Fallout can just take a sharp left in terms of story and reality and get away with it.

To have Nate be the bystander Soldier and then meet him when he has a very good thing going for him (an expensive house during an inflation crisis, a robot butler, he gets into a vault for free for fucks sake) very much speaks to life rewarding him for his crimes. There is no hatred in his words when he looks at the flag of the country that made him kill innocents. His speech is speaks of remorse for leaving his family and the cycle of war, it does not speak of the horrors. Of watching you comrades bleed out in the Anchorage snow. Of the scream of shells overhead. Of the fear in civilians eyes as your buddy puts a bullet between them.

You all have to see how it looks like the man is fine with what he had to do during the war, right?

Not interacting with these concepts enough paints a picture of apathy and acceptance. In this day and age where being keeping the government honest and responsible for their actions is so important, that isn't going to slide without it being EXTREMELY purposeful, which it is not. It's tone deaf and lazy.

I respect a lot of what Emil has done in the past, but I am not above keeping him culpable when he has something so delicate in his hands. I hope this situation is what he needed to get his head on straight, or is the light bulb moment where he realizes he needs to pass the torch onwards. There is no shame in subject matter becoming too much as time goes on. There is shame in letting a previously critical series become the very thing it was criticizing.

He is going to keep getting dragged until he realizes that or he manages to convince the fans to be complicit in the degradation of setting. In doing so he is going to lose Bethesda most of its biggest fans who well and truly love the series and what it stands for.

But that's just my take, and I'm just a kid who studies polisci and history and can't shield myself from the inherent horror of nuclear war no matter how much I try.

War really never changes

[chaifootsteps]

tbh one thing i liked about the instas that i dont think the series will bring back is him wearing casual clothes outside of work. the concept of a gay male sinner from the 1940s embracing modern day fashion from the current era because of how cute it is without anyone caring because its hell, (with the implication he mightve been doing this for decades beforehand before he came to the hotel,) is just really cool concept to me :3 it gave him a fashion identity outside of his sex work (something the show really doesnt do at all,) and it let him explore a more cutesty side to his character, but in a really natural way! i also just liked it because most of the sinners we saw tended to stick to dressing from their era, which made angel stand out more.

but this isnt present at all in the series, and even weirder, the one time he has a chance to put on pajamas in episode 2 like the girls have, where hes alone in his room with fat nuggets, he doesnt. maybe we wouldve had time for that if there wasn't a joke dedicated to showing how tone deaf and christian charlies morals are for the bisexual daughter of lucifer morningstar.

all the clothes he wears, there's more of a focus of his outfits from posion rather then anywhere else. i hardly see as much fanart of that stupid ugly ripped finale suit, as much as i see fanart of the latex suit angel wears while singing about being unable to help swallowing poison. either that, or the outfit he wears while dancing with val. love the fluffy spider butt, but cmon. we can get an angel dust design thats more spider in a natural way, but we can't see him wear casual clothes when he isnt working? or even see him in a full suit? (i really miss the purple suit from the instas, no stupid pink stripes, full suit for both arms, and his boobs were out w his tie instead of being hidden away like they are in the finale, which was perfect for his character </3)

him wearing clothes separate to his identity as a pornstar also helped him reclaim some of his freedom under his contract, obviously being unable to choose what val makes him wear on set. that's what angel dusts actions reflected in the instas and the comics too. (the "work shit" box comes to mind, i hate that borderline on screen rape is fine for an amazon funded show, but a box of dildos is too much,) even the addict mv shows this, with angel wearing just a pink sweater and some purple shorts when laying with cherri. or even just the casual, but cute outfit he wears when he blows up that club with her.

its just one of the few things that made him feel human, especially when fashion is bound to change in so many ways when youve been in hell for 77 years like he has. this part of his character being missing (along with the implication he even has a life outside of his work in the series; pilot ad was coping with work with hard drugs, being an teasing asshole as a defensive mechanism, getting into turf wars and murdering mafia goons. but still dresses cute and gets to be cute w his friends in his own time! series ad is coping by self destructing and letting people drug and fuck him so he'll be "broken" but then gets better by going out once after being waterboarded at work, only to not relax and be a mom to a joke character at a club called fucking consent,) is one of the reasons im still bitter about the instas being nuked. but not the only reason.

viv will always takes the credit for them anyway, no matter if she feels they do or not, because her fanbase isn't smart enough to realize someone else wrote these stories they still love. even if theyll be the first one to remind you they arent canon, because the creator said they arent. but my honest to god confession is that sometimes the instagrams feel more like the canon hazbin hotel to me, even months after s1 dropped, simply due to the nuance and detail it has compared to the actual series. it wasnt perfect, but you could tell there was passion there- passion that now, only the leads are allowed to put in hazbin so their favorite character can get more screentime and attention.

Thank you, Anon, for this absolutely beautiful writeup. It was true, seeing the difference between the outfits Val forced him into versus the outfits he chose to wear on his own time was one of the most interesting aspects of Instagram Angel Dust. It was a more safe-for-work extension of the "work shit" dildoes that didn't make it to Amazon Prime (while his graphic on-screen gang rape did) and it was powerful.

Of course, there are practical logistical reasons why cartoon characters wear the same outfit, but if only one character in HH was going to have a big wardrobe, it absolutely should have been Angel. But of course it wasn't, because as far as Viv and Raph were concerned, the only Angel outfits that mattered were the ones that fed into their shared fetish.

[nothing-ramblings]

i DO think laios is "autism creature" autistic. I think he's actually a great example of that. Most of the time i see the autism creature associated with special interests and hyperfixations and there's no way you could argue that's not a trait he has, it's a major plotnpoint that drives the story forward along with his other motivation. Something I also see a lot is the austism creature being used as an example of cluelessness, because of its expression. How are you gonna point to his social awkwardness, the fact that he's literally completely clueless about making people uncomfortable unless it's explicitly stated to him, and say he doesn't fit that description. I'n not sure what "tumblr" autism is supposed to mean, the person was probably talking about the more palatable traits people discuss more openly, but do you really think people aren't socially awkward in this webbed site?

i saw a rlly good post reacting to someone else's rotten take, unfortunately at the time i was too tired to read the full post and i ended up losing it, so i don't remember what all it said but basically the rotten take was calling laios creepy (in a "funny haha way" to disguise it) due to his traits, and op of the post i saw was explaining how that's fucked up. I think from what I skimmed it was very personal, comparing their own experiences to laios and honestly that might be my favorite thing about him. He doesn't just have the "palatable" traits that people are comfortable seeing. He is clueless, he had no idea someone disliked him, he even thought they were close friends, because that person never let him know when he was crossing a boundary until it was too much. Soon after this almost the opposite happens, where he doesn't believe someone else wants to be his friend, because now he's aware that he can't pick up on social cues, and he also knows he caused this person discomfort before, so why would they want to be his friend? He's "messy" in that he has a lot of traits people like to avoid when talking about autism, because it's stuff neurotypicals don't like.

He's literally that kid who people would be like "oh well if i knew he was autistic i wouldn't have treated him badly" (which is stupid, you should treat people well in general and not be an asshole then apologize because someone is actually neurodivergent or mentally ill). And guess what? He has friends who love him. They know he's awkward and clueless and has "weird" interests and they still love him. He has people who will stand up for him even after coming to the conclusion that he's "a little creepy" because they know he's a good person, and they like his honesty. Someone explicitly admits they envy his ability to be so openly himself, even after that same person tried to frame that trait as a bad thing, because they realized what they hated wasn't laios honesty but the fact that laios is able to act that way, while most people feel trapped by social rules and don't have that same freedom to be themselves. Laios can be himself not because society accepts him, in fact the first assumption when the elves learn he likes monsters is that he must be prone to evil. Because that's weird and creepy. Society does not accept him. His friends do. His sister does, she loves him and looks up to him as an adult as much as she did as a child. He has a support system. He is loved. Even people who don't necssarily love him know he could never become evil, even if they also think his special interest is a bit creepy. Because they know laios, actually know him, and they know that in his awkwardness he's still a kind person. He misses a lot of social cues, sometimes he says things that are tone deaf without realizing at all, and his friends know he means no harm. He just struggles with these things.

I think laios is a very good example of how nobody is unlovable, regardless of how awkward or clueless you might be, even if your special interest is something perceived as creepy. To me Laios is a reminder for anyone who needs to hear it that you are deserving of love too. Maybe you just beed to find a better support system, and that might take a while, but there's people who will love you the way you are, and accept you the way you are

[ninupi]

haiiii, i loved your patched up story with mitsuya and was wondering if you could maybe do another short story about reader basically being the schools president or a student of high intelligence but after school has this total other side where she’s also in a gang and into the whole fighting world so she’s really cool or something.

i know this might be a lot to ask and i’m hoping i explained that well enough lol but yeah! (again please take your time no rush and you can do it with any character you prefer from tokyo revengers, i love them all)🫶🏽🫶🏽

pawn | t. mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ tags; fem!reader, some cursing, like one sexual joke towards reader in bad taste, threats (not towards reader tho), blackmail (also not towards reader lol)

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 900+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; ill be honest I had a bit of trouble thinking of how to go about this but after some thinking this is what I came up with. sorry if its not exactly what you wanted but I tried my best!

(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

Mitsuya knew that people didn't really like you, he had just assumed it was because you were a strict rule follower and didn't put up with people breaking them. You've been class president all three years of high school and it was as if you got more serious each year.

"I don't get her issue, she takes shit way too seriously" Mitsuya would hear people whispering after you scolded them about certain things, whether it's their uniform not being on right or how they were late to class and anything in between.

And to some extent he agreed, but one thing he didn't get is why everyone was so scared to say something to you. He'd seen other people pick on other class presidents but when it came to you it was if everyone just took your words with a grain of salt.

"Y/n such a bitch man, I almost got detention just because of her" he heard some guy groan behind him while his friends laughed at him. "No way, are you serious? She's so stuck up, someones got to help her relax if you know what I mean"

Mitsuya rolls his eyes at their gross suggestions when he notices you walk in "Kentaro can I speak to you?" you seem slightly annoyed and mitsuya wonders if you heard what they had said about you. But mitsuya doesn't dwell on it once the boy leaves with you or when he comes back twenty minutes later looking a bit pale in the face.

"I just need you to write the use of your club funds here and any future plans in this box" you explain as if mitsuya hasn't done this multiple times before "You don't have to explain everytime you know" he laughs taking the form from your hands.

"Just a habit I guess" you shrug organizing the rest of the papers in your hands "Y/n? Can I talk to you about something?" Kentaro asks standing at the door of the economics club room. "Not right now im busy" you brush him off not even sparing him a glance.

"B-but it's important...it's about the money you asked- I said im busy. Are you deaf?" your change in tone shocks mitsuya a bit but he decides not to say anything. And why would you be asking Kentro for money, he's not in any club that mitsuya can think of.

"I should be by later to pick up the form, if i'm not by back by 4 just leave it on my desk please" you tell mitsuya walking out of the classroom with kentaro following close behind "Are you stupid? Talking about that in front of someone else? Do you want me to-"

Mitsuya looks at you two confused as you leave, what could you possibly be talking about?

Looking at the clock it reads 4:15, mitsuya finally realizes you're not coming back anytime soon and decides to make his way towards your class. Everyone else has gone home for the day finishing up their club activities and such so the hallways were quiet.

Mitsuya knows you wouldn't just forget to pick up the papers so he wonders what you could be busy doing when he hears someone talking in one of the classrooms. "What do you mean you don't have the money?" He immediately recognized your voice and guessing by your tone you weren't happy.

"I-i have some of it, I just don't have all of it...just give me two more- Give you more time? You've had a week, what the hell were you doing?" Mitsuya peeks his head into the room a bit and sees Kentaro standing in front of your desk looking a bit nervous.

"I have about 260 I just need to get the rest, I swear I'll get it to you in two days" what could you possibly need that much money for mitsuya thought to himself when you stood up and corned Kentaro.

"Listen to me, I told you to get 300 by this Friday last Sunday. You've had plenty of time to get your shit together, if it were up to me i'd give you the two days but it's not. I told my guys I'd have it by Sunday and that you were going to get it for them."

Mitsuya listened intensely to the way you were talking, he'd never seen this side of you and honestly if he were in Kentaro's shoes he'd be pretty nervous too. What guys were you referring to? And what'd they need all that money for anyways.

"So if you don't get me that money by Sunday it'll be your ass, not mine. So get it together and collect the fucking money, I shouldn't have to baby you. Remember if you don't do this i'll get your ass kicked out of here in no time, you understand me?"

Kentaro opened his mouth to say something but you didn't even give him a chance start "Don't say anything, I have all the proof of you cheating on those midterms and the principle will expel you for that. I also know about what you did to Akami, if her brother found out- Ok! ok i'll get you the money by Sunday! Please don't say anything about anything I swear i'll do whatever you want!"

Mitsuya doesn't think he's ever seen a guy like Kentaro so pale in the face before, what type of dirt did you have on this guy? Whatever it is seems bad and Mitsuya decided right then and there he'd try to stay on your good side for a while. Even if he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Get the fuck out of here just looking at you is pissing me off" you mutter going back to your desk, mitsuya doesn't have time to react before Kentaro is sliding the door open revealing him. He notices your shocked face and awkwardly smiles "I brought the papers..."