#like I love how one is longer than the other

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

��So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[sleep-0-deprived]

Hello Dimitri!

I really love your works - especially your yandere oc's and jjk content!- I was wondering if I can put in a request for a poly yandere of Geto and Gojo with a bottom male reader? I want to know how this relationship works when they were in their teens and now that their adults (Geto still choose to be a cult leader, also he does not die. My poor heart cannot handle the heartbreak of Geto dying and leaving Gojo and reader behind ). You can make it sfw or nsfw which either one you like! :)

Ps. Sorry for the long request, it is my first time requesting (0///0)

Two psychos is better than one right?~! (Yandere Geto suguru x male reader x yandere Satoru Gojo) ❀˖°

WC:. 5.7k

Tags: fluff-smut, threesome, spit roasting, poly satosugu, trio friendship, friends to enemies to lovers blowjobs, p in a sex, male on male oral, handjobs, ass eating, anal creampies, Yandere themes, dark content x male reader, dub con, non con, manipulation, drugging, Gojo just gaslighting reader

About: satoru and suguru become friends with male reader ending up in an obsession leading to Geto leaving, even after you split ways with him, he stays watching you from afar despite their separate paths they stay holding their obsession leading to trapping you.

A/N: this is a bit of a longer fic compared to others I’ve I’ve wrote, I put all my effort into this one! After some long writers block I’ve made it back around into writing again <33

Before the Riko incident you became a transfer at jujutsu high, you weren’t really strong nor weak, you were the prime balance of an average guy who just wanted to be in the middle- as long as you helped others then that was fine by you, being well known seemed overrated anyway.

You never thought you’d get between the infamous duo, they were tight knit after all, they were all any jujustu student aspired to be and after all you were just a boy looking to make it through the academy without any complications

If you would’ve known the outcome of transferring to this school you would’ve stayed far away, how did you even enter their lives? You were put on their team as a balance, you were put there to be guided and who was better to guid you than you once upper class men Satoru?

You were put on their missions, it started simple, the three of you going against curses together but you noticed very quickly that your friendship meant more to them than what met the eye. The friendship you thought of as normal or even just knowing them out of same interests turned dark far to fast.

What stool out at you the most was during a mission when you were saving a civilian from a low level curse, after a hour the fight was over and you were clean from any wounds, the man just ran up to you muffling his words between tears grabbing your hands.

“thank you—I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up!”

The man hugged you and the next thing you knew you tilted your head and suguru was already pulling him off of you pushing the man away harshly throwing him to a wall of a near by store.

“What do you think you’re doing suguru?!”

You quickly ran forward to him pulling him away from the civilian leaving the man running off terrified, your hands reaching up to his uniform shaking him back and forth while yelling at him. All Geto seems to do is stare blankly like he didn’t care what you did in the slightest.

“He touched you [name], nobody should get up close and personal, unless it’s me or Satoru”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You two aren’t my damn keepers, we are friends Suguru- just friends!”

You look at him offended with your lips pressing in a thin line shoving him back and letting him go, walking off pushing past a confused Gojo leaving him tilting his head looking back at Geto with a ‘what did you do?’ Face.

The next few days to pass you avoided Geto like the plague, only being around Gojo when he wasn’t near Suguru.

Sitting in a café during the weekend with Gojo lifting your drink, the feeling was off and you weren’t the biggest fan of how Gojo kept staring over at you but your dad was pushing you to be more like other boys your age, that’s how you ended up calling Gojo on the water day morning after the incident with Geto.

“You don’t have to avoid him Y’know [name]?”

Gojo breaks the silent looking at you with his eyes rolled forwards under his glasses watching your every move when you take a bite of whatever pastries you made him buy you.

“He’s just so damn possesive Toru- it’s like he thinks I’m his property..it’s just weird”

Gojo just gives a shrug, of course he would. Always sticking up and vouching for Geto like he was some sort of fan boy. What did you really expect? Gojo knew Geto before you, they had an uncanny close relationship and knowing all you know now looking back on it that’s the reason Suguru didn’t mind sharing you with Satoru.

“I think you’re overreacting, he was probably just worried about you, I’m sure he did in in good intentions”

“Yeah, whatever you say Toru”

You shove down a few more bites while Gojo takes a sip of his tea, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched but you always feel that way. Gojo kept trying to bring the topic back to Geto, trying to persuade you two to make up and apologize but you were just creeped out with his actions.

“Come on? He’s our friend [name] you don’t wanna be the one to put a wedge in our trio right?”

Gojo did his best to speak sweetly to you. Trying to convince you, and if that didn’t work then he’d just whine and make you feel bad til you felt like you just had to forgive Suguru. You didn’t wanna be the reason your friend ship fell apart with them right?…

The next day was a Sunday and Gojo had practically done everything but force you to meet up with Geto. Gojo had used the fact he and Geto were on a mission looking after a girl as the perfect opportunity to finally get you three together.

You hear your phone ringing whilst you lay sprawled out in bed, it’s a Sunday morning after all, it’s the last day of your week to sleep in until next weekend.

“Hello Toru..why’re you calling me so early?..”

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come and hangout at the beach today? Me and Geto are gonna be watching after this girl for our mission and I really-really want you there [nicknaamee]”

You just let out a small sigh and groggily open your eyes up begrudgingly mumbling back out to Satoru when you hear his whiny voice on the other end of the phone pleading and going high pitch on the nickname he gave you”

“Fine I’ll come but don’t let him act creepy Toru”

After that day at the beach things fell right back in line, you and Suguru had made up, and Gojo was happy, after all his best friends had made up.

Then it went and happened, some assassin had killed who they were protecting- or so Satoru told you. You weren’t there the day it had happened, you were on another mission with your upperclassman Nanami. Suguru wasn’t the same after that point, he hardly talked to you or Gojo- he would just silently space out staring at you.

Then summer hit and when he had came back he wasn’t the same at all, he was cold and distant and snapped at you over the slightest things. If you spent more time with Satoru than him then he’d give you the cold shoulder until you apologized despite your lack of knowing what you did wrong.

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this Suguru?”

You walked along side Gojo after school one day following after Geto, your eyes were wide and your lips pressed firm.

“Hey! Where are you goin?!”

Gojo ran faster than you walking forward more when Suguru stops and turns facing Gojo, their argument starts leaving you chiming in every few seconds standing next to Satoru, by the end of their fight Suguru just turns forward to walk away.

“Suguru wait! What the hell are you doing?”

You stand in utter disbelief for what was happening right in front of you— this couldn’t be happening? Your friendship was splitting up right before you and suguru, the boy that was eerily close around you was leaving you now.

You didn’t think you were going to be that affected over the loss but it left you confused on how you felt.

The days following that incident the team had drifted apart but you and Gojo had a newfound closeness but you couldn’t shake the feeling of always being watched, it felt like all eyes were on you even when you were walking through your dorm, that must just be the paranoia that comes with being a jujustu sorcerer right?

By the time you had graduated from Jujustu high, Gojo was already number one, you were happy for him of course as any friend would be. Eventually by the ripe age of twenty you take up a teaching job at jujustu high after a long time of Satoru pestering you to take the job with him.

“If I take the job will you just shut up Toru?”

“Of course I will! I promise [nickname]”

You eventually get tasked over the same team as Gojo, which you found strange. Not that Gojo didn’t totally pull strings to make them place you two together. The teams you were mentoring were names Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi, the boy that Gojo had been watching after ever since he fought with his father- you think he’s the son of that assassin that killed Riko.

The Jujustu world became hectic, not that it was new but it became crazier than usual especially after finding out that Yuji boy had ate one of the king of curses fingers— how was he even alive after that?

Over the years of being a Jujustu sorcerer you had seen and dealt with many things and you couldn’t deny you never thought you’d see Suguru again, not after what he did to his parents- you had just assumed he was gone for good. For some odd reason Gojo never seemed too concerned it felt as though he knew something you never did.

You remember earlier in the day hearing Satoru asking you to take the subway with him later after classes had ended, something about this new place he wanted to take you too and knowing Gojo and his Expensive tastes you had just expected another luxury restaurant so imagine the confusion on your face when you see a old Japanese style parlor.

You walk right in behind Gojo, following confused seeing the dark colored interior and dim lights, non sorcerers walking out of the place wearing matching robes.

“What is this place Toru?”

“It’s just a parlor ran by an old friend”

The way he hummed those words with a smirk made you feel uneasy, this place felt cultic, the purple walls and candles lit around the halls leading towards a pair of Japanese styled double doors, Satoru opens them ushering you inside. Your senses feel different in this room, it smells sweet and all you can do is feel fuzzy inside, were you being laced?

When you come to again you open your eyes half way seeing two figures hovering above you. Softness is all you can seem to feel right now, you’re laying on something soft, maybe a pillow? It’s fluffy and all you wanna do is close your eyes and succumb again, your body is weak and you only muster up enough strength to open your eyes when you feel a hand undoing your pants.

Your eyes roll around a little in their sockets before focusing in on the two figures, they look like yin and yang- one has white hair, it’s Gojo…is that—

“Suguru?”

His name sounds pathetic when you slur your words looking up at him letting out a little whine seeing his robes, where has he been and why was he dressed like a messiah. What was happening? All those thoughts are postponed when you feel hands pulling your cock out of your boxers.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you [name], god you know how hard it is to not be able to touch you? To not hear my name from your mouth? It’s torture sweetheart”

“Awe suguru! You told me the cameras I put in his apartment were close enough?”

Satoru and Geto conversation while kneeling before your body, one of them on either side of you with Suguru’s hand on your cock playing with the soft flesh and teasing it. Your body felt too many things to let your mind properly think.

“You’re alive?”

Those words come out shakily with your body shuddering feeling the warm palm of his hand under the base of your cock pulling a few strokes while Satoru leans down more sliding your shirt up your body, lifting your arms up and discarding it while you lay on your back in the parlor. Your eyes seeing candles lit around the room next to a picture of Geto— this was a cult.

“Of course I’m alive? Why wouldn’t i be [name]?…you know me and Satoru will never leave you”

“Look at him Suguru, he’s so loopy, I told you that gas was too strong~”

Your cock pulses in his hand with your nipples erect from the cool air, your body heating up and your cock starting to leak precum.

“What’re you two doing?”

The words fall weakly while you lay on the pillows with your eyes circling in on Geto the whole time he touches your cock, your eyes rolling over to Gojo when he coos words to you talking you through it while your hands tremble pulling at the pillows.

“What we’ve wanted to do since day one [name]”

Suguru hums, leaning in more stroking your cock a little faster and moving his way between your thighs before craning his neck backwards whispering out something to Gojo. Gojo groans and pouts, taking his hands off your body and getting up walking off and out of the room leaving you and Suguru alone.

When Gojo comes back he’s holding a bottle of strawberry flavored Lube, Geto let’s go of your now hard cock and turns you over on your stomach, Gojo tossing Suguru the lube while he squirts the lube all up and down your crack, sitting the lube aside and squishing your cheeks together over and over making the lube smear around in between your cheeks.

“All I can think about is how you’ll taste, I hope Satoru don’t get mad I eat you up first”

Geto leans down kissing your arch and holding your hips sliding them down to your ass cheeks and slowly pulling them apart while grinning up at Gojo, watching the white haired man undoing his slacks and pulling out his cock, Gojo slaps his tip to your lips still soft.

“Toru please-“

“C’mon, suck it hard f’me?”

Before you can respond Geto has his faced buried between your cheeks eating you out like your his last meal, his tongue sliding up and down your crack and back down to your rim.

When your lips part to gasp, Gojo takes that as his chance to shove his cock down your throat making your lips wrap around him gagging and tearing up laying on your stomach with Satoru’s hand reaching down to grab a handful of your locks making you tilt your head back and look up at him.

“How’s it taste [name]?”

You can’t seem to muster a word, feeling Geto’s tongue going flat against your rim and pressing its way inside you while he reaches one hand under you to grab back ahold of your cock, Suguru starts stroking you in time with his tongue while aiming your cock down towards the pillows in jerking motions like he was milking you.

Gojo and Geto share gleaming looks, they were on cloud nine finally getting the intimacy from you they had longed after for years. Gojo thrusts his hips forward slowly making your cheeks bulge with every motion, his cock now fully hardened in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making vibrations around his base when you wail out.

“Poor baby is all delirious isn’t he Satoru?”

Geto smile against your flesh, pressing sloppy wet kisses to your rim rolling his own eyes back at the taste of strawberry and you on his tongue leaving a satisfaction in his stomach with his cock hard under his robes being pressed to his hip.

Gojo keeps stroking your hair before starting to lift your head by your hair and bob your mouth up and down on his cock making you deep throat him to the point your face was buried in his white pubes.

“Sugu—tworu ple~”

Your words come out choppy around his cock. You speak with your mouth full feeling your throat hurting and the hot tears in your eyes streaming down your cheeks being used by the two men unable to put up a fight due to the drugs in your system keeping you weak between the men.

The feeling of Geto’s tongue swirling around your insides makes your head go fuzzy again, you just wanna close your eyes but you can’t because yours are locked on Gojo’s bright blue ones, have they always been as blue as they are now? The look of pleasure on his faces makes knots build in your stomach knowing you’re the cause for his half closed eyes.

“Oh you’re so close aren’t you? Don’t even gotta answer I can tell [name]”

Geto can tell by the way your rim greedily puckers around his tongue and the amounts of precum oozing from your tip that you’re on the verge of your orgasm. His hand keeps working you between your thighs leaving your legs trembling laying on your stomach when a wave of heat floods your whole body making you moan around Gojo’s cock.

Your tip starts to swell angrily under Geto’s thumb, when his tongue laps your prostate it pushes you past your breaking point making you lose it, cumming all over the pillows, staining the purple fabrics with an off white stain making Gojo look down at you with his signature smirk.

“Mhmf— he’s a fuckin squirter Satoru”

“Suguru you should just feel how he’s gagging on me right now-“

They talk about you like you aren’t there, using you for their own pleasures you feel Geto pulling his face from your cheeks with one last lick pulling his tongue out of you leaving your s/c ass all sticky from a mix of spit and lube.

Geto starts lifting up his robes pulling them up over his head throwing them to the side with a smile, wearing black boxer briefs with a prominent bulge inside them with a dark patch of black hair trailing down his abdomen giving Satoru little to the imagination.

Suguru slides his fingers under his boxer waist band pulling them down his thighs allowing his cock to spring forward and press to his stomach.

“I would ask if you’re ready [name] but you probably shouldn’t speak with your mouth full~”

His voice is cold and mocking not giving a damn about Satoru face fucking you like a fleshlight. Suguru pulls your slick cheeks apart again thrusting his cock up and down your crack getting himself lubed up with the mixed substances.

Gojo reached his thumb down tracing over your full cheeks, watching how your throat bulges more and more the deeper he pushes himself inside your mouth fucking your eyes to reverse watching how they looked away from him and into the back of your head with a teary face that could arouse any man.

“I need-air tworu~”

Your drool running down your chin with your cock half limp between your thighs from how Geto jerked you off leaving you already feeling empty. Suguru reaches his hands up and grips your hips tightly nudging his cockhead against your rim watching while it stretches wide in a sad attempt to fit him, his cock feels like it’s tearing you in half.

“Fuck!~ hurts Suguru—“

You gasp when Satoru pulls his cock from your mouth leaving you fishing the purple pillows clenching up around Geto while he lazily pushes in, he doesn’t pay mind to it hurting you, he rubs small circles on your hips before bottoming himself all the way inside you with your rim leaving a little blood in with the lube from being stretched so much you tore.

“Shh, now you know you can take it can’t you [nickname]”

Gojo drops your head letting it fall forward with your teary face in the purple pillows, your lips all swollen and your throat feeling like razors doing nothing but keeping you from screaming anymore. Your voice is weak and all you can do is hold the pillows and let out little squeals around Suguru.

“Suguru- pleasee—“

You get shut up again by Satoru’s cock, he doesn’t tap his tip to your lips like last time, he forced his whole cock back down your drool filled throat making a slobbery mess running down your face while you reach one hand back trying to push Suguru’s hands off your hips.

“Don’t even try it [name] you know better, god you’re still as feisty as the last time I seen you”

Suguru reached one hand forward holding both your wrists tightly leaving promising red marks while he slowly thrusts his hips forward pushing your face more into Satoru’s groin when Suguru starts to fuck you from behind holding you and binding you with his hands keeping you all defenseless but at this point with the way his cock is sliding against your inner walls you can’t even properly think.

“There you go [nickname] you’re so good at this aren’t you? I think he was made for two cocks Suguru”

Gojo’s blindfold hanging around his neck with his large hand around the back of your head holding it in place while he rocks his hips forward making his veins start prodding against the roof of your mouth more showing you he was close.

“Hmfh!~ Toruu”

You whine wanting to reach your hand down and start touching your cock, you needed to come so bad but you couldn’t do anything but depend on them to make sure you got off. Suguru’s cock pressed against your prostate milking your insides with his base stretching your channel to fit his cock like he was trying to mold you.

“Does our boy wanna come that bad?”

Geto asks you with a fake confused tone fucking you a little harder holding your hands behind your back with one hand using the other to reach down and lift your left thigh up forcing his cock inside you at a deeper angle making you feel every vein and curve to his cock.

“Mh hmm-!”

You’re so far gone you can’t bother to care about every messed up thing these men are doing to you, all your mind can process is ‘needa come’ your back arches and you start trying to bob your head under Satoru’s hand trying to earn good graces from him when you look up at him with your wide eyes batting your lashes back and forth like a doll.

“Oh what’s this? I think he’s starting to be a good boy Satoru, you think we should let him come?”

Suguru asks Satoru with a smug smile holding your thigh tight fucking your insides raw with your rim all puffy and wrapped around his cock split open wide now accepting him with ease with the room in the parlor filling up with lewd squelches from the mix of lube and his spit making wet sounds when his hips hit your ass cheeks.

Plap-plap-plap, the sounds silently echo throughout the room while you just stare up at Gojo with a full mouth before feeling his load shoot down your throat spilling all over the back of your throat and running down the roof of your mouth leaving the pungent taste on your lips.

“I think we should let him come Suguru- he’s been actin nice hasn’t he?”

“I think you’re right Toru~ good boys deserve rewards after all”

Geto let’s your arms go reaching back down between your thighs starting to jerk your cock like he did before, fucking you rougher with his chubby cock head pulsing and twitching on your prostate putting a strong pressure in your stomach threatening to break over at any moment.

Satoru’s cock slips out of your mouth letting you finally breath and gasp for air while Gojo stares down at your face stroking his soft cock hard again and aiming it at your fucked out face watching you get pounded from behind by Geto.

“Close- just a little more- suguru pleasee~!”

You start letting out whiny moans and sounds you never new your voice could make when his thumb runs right across your slit, staring up at Gojo the whole time with your teary face ruined and covered in tears and drool with your hair messy from Gojo’s pulling. Geto keeps going bucking his hips forward harshly rutting himself into you going deep as he can pressing his balls to your backside feeling your rim spasming ready to orgasm around him.

When Suguru flicks his wrist holding the base of your cock it sends you over the edge arching your back under him clenching around his cock and holding onto the purple fabric beneath you, orgasming so hard your ears start ringing making everything in the room feel surreal when you come in Geto’s hand.

“There he goes Suguru- oh that’s such a beautiful face you’re making [nickname]”

Your come floods over Suguru’s thumb and spilling onto the pillows under you making you wail and cry at the nearly dry orgasm being pulled from your cock having you stiffening up under the two men with your nose scrunched in a over stimulated pleasure.

“I’m getting close [name], gonna flood these insides”

When Gojo hears those words he starts stroking his cock faster at your face watching his two best fiends fucking eachother with you laying all out of it and fuzzy from the drugs having you limp under Geto when he lets your thigh down to mount you more fucking your motionless body making you feel how his cock nudged you on its own before his flood gates break.

“O-oh hng~ suguru-“

The words come out high pitched and louder than the last when his come floods your anal cavity, the warmth surrounds your prostate in a hot sensation leaving you feeling all bloated and full from his seed, your hole instinctively starts to clench and unclench around him milking the rest of his load out of him while Gojo lets out a groan watching the whole scene play out before him.

“Here it comes [nickname]”

Those words were the only warning that Gojo gave you before his orgasm shoots across your face all over your nose and lips running down your chin, mixing in with your spit and tears leaving you completely ruined from the two men, with two loads in your tummy and another on your face leaving you spent.

“I can’t take no more Toru~ Suguru I can’t-“

“But you gotta [nickname] ! I haven’t even got to feel your hole yet~”

Gojo lets out a whine while Geto lets go of your cock and pulls out of your ass, using his thumb to push any come that oozes from your hole back inside you while he rotates with Gojo letting Satoru get right behind you swapping places, god! At this rate it was gonna be a real long night.

“Toru- I can’t take it”

You droop your head down feeling his hands flipping you over back into your back on the pillows feeling your come stained pillow fabric pressed to your skin making you cringe, Satoru lifts up one of your legs placing it up on his shoulder nudging your sore rim with his cock while Suguru adjusts himself now facing at your head pressing his cock against your come stained lips.

“Don’t lie, we know you can take it [nickname], you were made to take it baby”

“He’s right baby, we know you can handle it”

They don’t take your weak response as an answer, Gojo slowly pushes his cock into your already stretched hole, sliding in easily from Geto’s come and lube. Your chest aiming up at the air arching splayed on your back with your cock red and soft unable to harden from being milked to many times by the men.

Suguru pushes his cock pash your lips delving it into your wet cavern. Your throat bulges again from your now full mouth, your whole body aches and hurts but all you can do is lay still and take it. Gojo gives you no time to rest before he lifts your other leg up in the air holding you in a mating press while jackhammering into you.

“Fuck Suguru, you’re right his hole feels so fucking good”

Geto hums in response shuddering a little when your canines graze over a sensitive vein on the underside of his cock making him reach his hand down choking your throat a little bit as a warning making your fission blur from the lack of oxygen and the way Gojo was fucking you, reaching more spots than Suguru if that was even possible.

“Ah- careful with your teeth baby, don’t chew on it. Suck it”

Your thighs start trembling pressed to your chest with Gojo dipping his face down and burying his face into your pecks like a madman, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. His hips roll forwards lifting and reaching down to pull your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with your moans being gagged by Suguru’s cock.

“T’muush~ too stuffed Suguru~”

You roll your eyes back into your head looking up at Geto above you with your nose pressed to his balls from the angle he was fucking your mouth at leaving Satoru’s cum all smeared across your face like a sticky mess. Your cock half limp and tender against your inner thigh while it rests on your stomach leaking a little puddle.

“You sucked Satoru off fine, I think you can handle me too [name], now don’t start acting defiant again on us”

The way Geto spoke to you made you whine sadly unable to fight either of them, the drug still in your system and the way they were trying to consume your body whole left you mute sucking on his cock while Gojo pressed his chest up against yours making your toes curl up when he thrusts forward and nails your sweet spot head on.

“Don’t be so mean to him Suguru, he’s just about used up S’ all”

Satoru coos out to Suguru while he makes the pillows dip under the shared weight of him on top of you, Geto’s come swirling around your insides and trickling down your thighs around the base of Gojo’s cock while Gojo bites down on your nipple again only pulling his mouth off of your flesh to speak.

“I’m getting close [name], do’ you want it down your throat or face?”

Geto asks looking down at you feeling his balls drawing up against your cheek signaling he was close to his peak. Gojo on the other hand didn’t care about Suguru’s orgasm, he was too busy trying to chase his own inside your stomach. Your rim starts burning and stinging from being used and gaping around a cock for so long leaving you in painful pleasure.

“On m’ face~”

You whimper out quietly just not wanting to have to taste another load or feel more come inside your stomach. Reaching one hand down whining when you start to touch your cock, it felt like touching a stiff rod, your hand slowly moved up and down it crying to have to pull another orgasm but you needed to come so bad.

“You can’t do that [nickname] you gotta come from me or Suguru, so no touchin yourself”

Before you can respond or complain Satoru has his free hand slipping off your hip and down onto your cock, quickly swatting your hand away from it. His strokes aren’t gentle like yours were, his are fast and unorganized like his thrusts are. Gojo takes his mouth off your nipple and shoves his face in your neck while Suguru keeps fucking your mouth, his thrusts slow down pulling out of your mouth with his cock jumping on its own.

“There we go [name] see what you do to us?”

Your ass feels sore and red from hips slapping against them over and over but before you can complain a hot load shoots all over your face spilling into your eyelashes and into your mouth making you taste his come, he tasted sweeter than Gojo, his semen more thick and less opaque than Satoru’s.

“I’m getting close Sa-Toruu~”

Your voice cracks from a sore face fucked throat, your lips are all sticky and cracked in the corners from opening your mouth too wide, your lips part and ho agape making an ‘O’ shape when Gojo bites at the crook of your neck licking over the red marks he’s leaving on your S/c skin.

Your abdomen starts feeling hotter and more tense making you sweat underneath Satoru when his cock teases your insides making your legs feel like jello up in the air with your knees bent over his shoulders. By the way Gojo was tensing up and the muscles of his shoulders stiffened beneath your finger nails you could tell he was about to come.

“Me too- you’re just milking it out of me [nickname]”

His hand works harder and faster against your cock making you groan starting to orgasm shaking and crying with hardly any semen able to spill from you. Your tip starts leaking barely any pre come, you begin orgasming dry making Geto smile above you happy to know they had milked your body dry, Suguru reaches his hand down stroking your cheek while Gojo plows you between your thighs making the room spin through your eyes.

Soon the feeling of warmth in your gut hits you again letting you know Satoru had just found his release inside you, his semen seeping out of you overflowing your hole leaving the thin strings of his come running down your thighs and staining the pillows beneath the two of you.

“Toruu.. I’m soo sore-“

You whisper out under him reaching one hand up to his neck and grabbing his hair with your other hand still on his shoulder. Rolling your eyes forwards looking up at Suguru with your insides flooded and your face ruined- god you can’t handle these two insane men- They’re something else!

[spiderace]

This is an interesting point about art.

People in 2024 will say that for e.g. far right art can't be good, but the thing is, people who believe terrible things have made great art since always. Ayn Rand genuinely moves people. I don't get it, I find her prose dull, but she does. Hitler wrote a bestseller. Thomas of Aquinas blamed women for many of his problems and is still more revered than not. And of course every year another Joss Whedon turns out to have been terrible all along and we all have to discover that we didn't REALLY love everything he did for twenty years. I'm not even going to address the elephant in that room, but you all know its looming sorting-hat-shaped shadow.

The reason most extremist art is terrible now is, I think, that extremists are no longer willing to traffic in implication. For example, I'm a Christian (I love you gay Methodists), and I like the Conjuring movies even though the Warrens were terrible.

These movies are explicitly pro-Christian. They believe in an afterlife, heaven, hell, demons exorcism. On the culturally conservative end, they're about a loving cis heterosexual married couple with a beloved daughter, and they never mention or acknowledge that LGBT people exist that I can recall.

Right-wing Christians will not watch or accept these films, because they are horror films, or because they don't adhere strictly to the doctrine of a given denomination. For a movie to be publicly acceptable as a Christian film by contemporary American Christianity, it has to either be a Bible story or be God's Not Dead, a movie where (spoilers!) an atheist left-wing college professor gets hit by a car and Christians coerce him into converting in order to ensure that he goes to Heaven.

This creates a bizarre environment where left-wing films are unacceptable because they have left-wing implications, but films with right-wing implications are unacceptable because they are not right-wing enough.

As a horror fan, this is not only bizarre but hilarious. Many horror fans will watch something based on a vibe regardless of its philosophical implications, because you don't have to agree with a film in order for it to scare you. I think this is why The Conjuring franchise is so popular even though I suspect horror fans lean further left than a lot of other filmgoers.

So the ultimate result of this is that fundamentally conservative art is more likely to be observed and discussed by people further to the left than the artist, just like this social media post. This is important, because ideas should be seen and discussed so that we can openly decide which ones are hot garbage, just like the original anonymous message. And I think it's also important because if we only acknowledge and boost what we disagree with that actually has artistic merit, the overall marketplace of ideas still benefits by examining different perspectives without admitting the ones that amount to inarticulate screaming at a minority group.

This is especially important to me because it's how I was de-radicalized as a young person from my very right-wing conservative upbringing - by interacting with critical examination of ideas in art as well as by meeting real people that did not reflect the demonized image of minorities that I grew up around. I think both of those things are important to those that process. And that can't happen unless someone drags forward anonymous pieces of artful hate into the light of day so that we may submit them to the dissecting pins and scalpel of real criticism.

Normally, I just block people and leave their nonsense unposted... but this is art.

[thetarotbaddie111]

how do they feel about you? (pick-a-card reading - detailed)

1. 2. 3.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. select the card based on the number provided below and scroll down to read about the card you have chosen. remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　

⊹₊⋆ pile 1

first off, this person is very sexually and physically attracted to you. they constantly think about you and they have a lot of love to offer you. but at the same time they are unsure about their feelings because they think this ‘attraction’ they have towards you can just be an infatuation. and because of this, they are not making any efforts to approach you. some of them might be in denial. they definitely like you a lot and they want to ask you out but due to their uncertainty, they are holding back. it looks like there is some sort of imbalance in their life and they’re trying to figure out what it is, and this is also one of the reasons they are not making a move towards you. there seems to be some conflicts in their personal life and they don't want you to be a part of it. they’re trying to resolve this conflict before getting into a relationship or pursuing anything with you. they definitely look at you as someone who has high knowledge and they admire the way you stand true to yourself. they look at you as someone who has their life together. they also find you very charismatic and emotionally mature and they feel like they lack those abilities. this also seems like one of the reasons why they’re scared to approach you.

for many of you, this person has not spoken to you yet but they admire you from afar. but they are planning to take steps and come forward because at some point they feel like they need to come clean to you because they can't hold in their feelings for you any longer. this person is very physically attracted to you and daydreams about you to an unhealthy level (be a little mindful about this). but this does not mean that they only desire you sexually. they also have genuine and pure feelings for you. i see that one of their love languages is gift-giving and i wouldn't be surprised if they get you a chocolate or flowers when they’re going to ask you out. or when they finally get the courage to talk to you, do not be surprised if they buy you small things like chocolates or anything like that. they feel like there is more to you compared to what you put on the surface and they’re very curious about you. at some point, they are trying to deny their feelings towards you and they realise that this is not working because the affection and feelings they have towards you is very strong. so, it seems like they will be taking a step forward and will try to approach you. but it's going to be a slow process. but do not lose hope.

also side note, do not be surprised if you find an anonymous note in your bag. this is a way of them subtly admitting their feelings towards you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　

✦ . ⁺ pile 2

i'm getting the energy that this person might be a little older than you (take only if it resonates). i'm getting a sense that they are going through a rough time right now. stress is definitely a huge negative factor in their life and they are weighed down with responsibilities. they see you as someone who is completely opposite to them. they see you as someone who has their life together, who has knowledge, who has good divine power, who is gentle with other people while their personality might be a little rough - as in like they have a very stoic personality. you seem very tender and very sweet and this intimidates them because they feel like you’re too delicate for them and they don’t deserve you.

some of you might be good with children and this person feels overwhelmed by this, not sure why. they also feel like you have your future planned out, career planned out and you're sure on what you want to do while they’re stuck in this cycle where they are not sure what they want to do and the responsibilities weighing them down is also increasing their burden.

for some of you, i'm getting a sense that your work requires you to travel or you might be travelling somewhere - and this is holding them back. they feel like they can't keep up with the long distance or they can’t keep up with the sudden movements - where one day you’re with them and the next day you’re not because of work or other responsibilities.

also, they pay extra attention to your hands. they find your hands very attractive. they find it very soft and delicate and very feminine. they also feel like you are too good for them and they feel like you are this very high-authoritative person (maybe you might hold a good position in work) and they feel very small - emotionally - next to you, and this makes them feel a little insecure. they’re trying to work on this so they can better themselves for you. they also see you as a confident person and they feel like they do not match your level. they feel like you would be embarrassed to have them around. they're also very curious about you and might ask people who know you about the things you like or dislike in order to know you better.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　

٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile 3

oh my god. this person's feelings towards you are very genuine. they are emotionally attached as well as attracted to you. they admire the way you are so emotionally mature. their feelings for you are so strong (there is no doubt in that!) that they sometimes look at you and think “what have you done to me?”. you seem like a very social person and one thing they’re scared of is that you have many options open for you (in terms of romance) and they feel like they do not stand a chance. you're like this light that draws everyone in and you catch people’s eyes very quickly. it's like when you walk in a room everyone takes notice of your presence. they feel like they are going to lose you and they are working on changing this mindset.

it seems like this person had previously or currently had some bad habits, or habits that do not align with yours or something that you’d be attracted to, so they’re changing those habits for you. this is the amount of sacrifice they are willing to give up in order to be with you. they are willing to change themselves for you.

i am getting a sense that this person might jokingly throw around comments stating, “oh, i like you so much” or “this is why i like you so much” while talking to you. it seems like you know/have already met this person. they are definitely not afraid to show that they like you and may give out subtle hints. but at the same time they’re afraid you’ll find out about their feelings towards you because they’re still in the process of changing some undesirable habits. if you are very family oriented, they like this fact about you. it also seems like they have mentioned you to the people in their close circle.

they like how caring and giving you are regardless of how people treat you. you also seem like a popular person or someone who has many friends and connections and they admire how kind you are to people regardless of your social status. they see you as this trophy they want to win. they might say silly silly things to impress you (oh boy they’re in love!) and try to win you over.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　

hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

[solxamber]

This is a funny lil idea I just had but have you ever thought about rook and a reader that acts like his behavior is normal? Like, they know he's literally stalking them but is perfectly fine with it for some strange reason.

And when they finally do start dating, everyone is either

1. Convinced that he’s threatening your life

Or

2. Judging you like crazy because WHY

Totally Normal Romance || Rook Hunt

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

thank you for waiting! I loved the idea a lot and it became way longer than I expected but I hope you like it!

You’ve somehow managed to fall into a relationship with Rook, the Academy's resident “Hunter” and renowned tracker of students who can't even attempt to hide without him finding them.

Most people would be a little alarmed—okay, extremely alarmed—by Rook’s knack for showing up whenever you breathe a little too loud. But you? You’re weirdly, unapologetically chill about it.

The day starts as it usually does. Rook is outside your door bright and early, practically sparkling, ready to report how many steps you took in your sleep, how many breaths you exhaled, and what percentage of your dreams contained images of his dashing silhouette.

You nod, acting like he’s merely sharing the weather, and go about your morning. People are whispering in the hallways; they’ve noticed that the school’s “greatest hunter” is now your personal shadow.

Some think you're being held hostage in an unholy union. Others are convinced you’ve cracked under the pressure of Rook’s endless poetic monologues and have, in fact, lost your mind.

When the two of you officially start dating, the rumors take a delightful nosedive into the surreal. Rook is, naturally, over the moon, reciting sonnets about your “captivating acceptance of his pursuit.” Friends beg you to “see the red flags.”

You just smile as Rook emerges from behind a tree on your morning jog to hand you a flower he found “radiant with the essence of your aura.”

Intervention Attempt 1: Adeuce

You’re just sitting down to lunch when Ace and Deuce suddenly approach you with identical expressions of horror and determination, like they’ve somehow stumbled into a horror movie and taken it upon themselves to rescue the clueless protagonist. Ace, as usual, decides to take the lead.

“We need to talk. About... him.” He jerks a thumb toward Rook, who’s lurking—quite visibly—behind a tree, watching you with a delighted grin as if the entire world is his favorite reality TV show.

You shrug. “Rook’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Deuce’s mouth falls open. “That’s... sweet? The dude’s literally hiding in a tree to stare at you.”

You wave a hand. “He’s just thoughtful, you know? He knew I needed a pick-me-up yesterday, so he waited in my closet for two hours just to surprise me with a motivational haiku.”

Ace’s expression is somewhere between pity and disbelief. “You’re serious? That’s... sweet?”

“Uh-huh.” You pop a fry in your mouth, unfazed. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone that dedicated.”

Ace and Deuce share a silent, horrified look, one that clearly says, Our friend has lost it. Then, Ace leans in close. “You know, if he’s threatening you, you can blink twice or something. We can handle him.”

You burst into laughter, almost choking on your fry. “Guys, come on! Rook’s harmless. It’s just his way of showing affection.”

Behind the tree, Rook notices you laughing and beams even wider, waving with both hands like you’re his entire world. Ace sighs, looking like he’s just signed up for an impossible mission. Deuce’s brows knit together in concern, like he’s mentally preparing himself to guard you from the “danger” Rook apparently presents.

Intervention Attempt 2: Leona

Leona lounges on the couch as you walk into the room, looking way too relaxed—except for the sharp glint in his eye as he watches you. You know that look; it’s the we need to talk look, though Leona would sooner eat his tail than say it outright.

“You know that guy who keeps creeping around you?” he starts, his tone casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “The hunter dude?”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, he’s great!” you reply with a smile, clearly missing his hint.

Leona raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Great? The guy basically tracks your every move like a lion on a hunt. He’s probably memorized your breathing patterns by now.”

You laugh it off, waving a hand. “Leona, you make it sound creepy. Rook’s just… committed.”

Leona smirks, leaning back with a lazy yawn. “Committed to what, stalking you?”

You shrug. “It’s romantic in its own way! He writes poetry about me, makes sure I’m always safe... It’s kinda nice knowing someone’s always watching out for me.”

“Watching out for you,” Leona mutters, barely concealing a snicker. “Sure. Or just watching you.” He tilts his head, examining you as if you’re some rare species that’s suddenly shown up in the savanna. “You sure he hasn’t put a spell on you? You sound completely out of it.”

You smirk. “Leona, you’re just not used to people showing appreciation.”

Leona narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You keep saying stuff like that, herbivore, and I’m gonna assume you’ve completely lost it.” He yawns and flops back onto the couch, muttering under his breath, “That crazy hunter and his weird haikus…”

You walk away, oblivious, and Leona just shakes his head with a smirk, quietly wondering if he’ll end up having to pry Rook off of you someday.

Intervention Attempt 3: Riddle

Riddle stares at you over his teacup, his brows knit with concern as you talk about your latest “date” with Rook. You've barely started describing his newest poetic declaration when Riddle sets his cup down, looking thoroughly alarmed.

“I… don’t understand,” he interrupts. “Did you say he was waiting in the shadows outside your dorm window at midnight? And he… recited sonnets?”

You nod, completely unbothered. “Oh, yes! And he was so sweet about it. He even had a rose between his teeth, Riddle. He really went all out.”

Riddle’s expression looks like he’s been hit with cold water. “And you… didn’t feel unsafe?”

“Why would I?” you laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s Rook. He’s just being his passionate self.”

Riddle’s face hardens, and he stands up, clutching his teacup with barely contained fury. “This is unacceptable! You must report this immediately—stalking is a severe issue! You don’t have to tolerate this treatment, no matter how he frames it!”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, it’s really okay. He’s not stalking me; he’s just… really attentive.”

Riddle’s lips thin, and he looks at you with pity, as if you're just too naive to understand the danger you’re in. “It’s worse than I thought,” he mutters, eyes blazing. “He’s… he’s manipulating you into thinking this is acceptable!”

Riddle finally sighs, shaking his head. “If you’re too afraid to tell him off, I’ll do it for you. As a dorm leader, it’s my duty to protect students in my care.”

“Riddle, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection,” you insist, patting him on the shoulder. “Rook is harmless.”

Riddle huffs, looking like he’s already planning out the verbal lashing he’s going to deliver to Rook the next time he sees him. “You’ll see,” he says. “When you realize the danger, remember I warned you.”

You just smile, and he glances at you like you’re a sheep walking happily into a lion’s den.

Intervention Attempt 4: Malleus (And Lilia?)

When Malleus summons you to Diasomnia for what he calls an “urgent matter,” you’re intrigued. However, when you arrive, his expression is downright grave. The flickering candlelight gives his face an eerie glow as he looks at you, his usually calm demeanor laced with worry.

He leans in close, and his eyes narrow. “I understand you… spend much time with Rook,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah? We’re dating,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback, as if he was expecting an entirely different answer. “So you willingly… permit him to lurk in the shadows around you?”

“Well, yes, he’s got that whole poetic ‘silent protector’ thing going on.” You shrug, but Malleus doesn’t look any less alarmed.

“I see,” Malleus says, more to himself than to you. “So he’s already gained control over you.” He sighs, looking deeply concerned. “Fear not. I will protect you from him.”

Before you can respond, Lilia, who’s been silently watching with a smirk, bursts into laughter.

“Oh, Malleus, you’re taking this far too seriously,” he cackles, clapping a hand on Malleus’s shoulder. “Rook isn’t dangerous—well, unless you count bad poetry as a weapon.”

Malleus doesn’t look convinced. “You find this funny?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course I do!” Lilia grins, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “They’re dating, Malleus. Rook doesn’t even know how to scare a fly when it comes to them.”

Malleus turns back to you, still worried. “Are you… certain you’re safe?”

You nod, but the look of pity in his eyes says he’s clearly unconvinced, as if he thinks you’re only defending Rook out of fear. Meanwhile, Lilia gives you a wink and a mischievous grin, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation.

Intervention Attempt 5: Azul

You’re strolling past the Mostro Lounge, hoping to grab some food, when Azul intercepts you, looking unusually serious. He gestures for you to follow him into a private corner, glancing around as if he's worried someone might overhear.

“I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rook,” he says, his tone grave, though there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s already calculating something.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

Azul’s expression shifts to something between shock and pity, as if he’s just heard you’ve taken up with the Grim Reaper himself. “Dating? So… you’re aware he’s stalking you?”

You shrug. “He’s not stalking—he’s just keeping an eye out. Very vigilant, actually.”

Azul’s face darkens. “Right… vigilant.” He clears his throat. “In that case, allow me to offer the services of Floyd and Jade for your… protection.”

You blink. “Protection?”

“Yes. For a reasonable price, of course,” he says with a smooth smile, back to his usual self. “Consider it a sort of… insurance in case this arrangement with Rook takes a… dramatic turn.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Imagine if you had two skilled guards who could tail him as closely as he tails you.”

Before you can respond, Floyd appears out of nowhere, draping an arm over your shoulder and grinning. “We could totally scare him, too. Make him feel like he’s the one being hunted!”

Jade nods from behind him, his smile too sharp to be comforting. “Yes, we’re more than happy to shadow Rook if you’d like.”

You stare at the twins, whose predatory smiles seem to stretch further the longer they look at you. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but Rook’s fine. I’m not being held captive.”

Azul raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, instead sighing in that dramatic way of his. “Very well. The offer stands should you need it. Just remember: one word, and we’re at your service.”

As you walk away, you catch a quiet exchange between the twins.

“Do you think we’d even get the chance to tail him, Jade?”

“Hmm… I’d say it’s more likely he’d follow us, Floyd.”

You shake your head, amused. Only Azul would find a way to capitalize on your love life.

Intervention(?) Attempt 6: Vil

You’re backstage in Pomefiore, helping Vil with his costume adjustments for his latest role when he pauses, hands on his hips, giving you a long, evaluative look.

“So… you and Rook?” he finally says, an eyebrow raised with an almost resigned air.

“Yeah.” You grin, shrugging. “I mean, he’s… intense, but it works.”

Vil sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the headache he’s certain to get from this conversation. “You realize that most people would find his behavior concerning, right?”

You wave him off. “He’s harmless. Just… expressive.”

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, as though he’s not sure if you’re just that naive or that confident. “You’re both completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you say, leaning back with a shrug. “But I like it that way.”

Vil sighs again, and there’s a glimmer of a smile, even if it’s hidden behind a look of sheer exasperation. “Well, at least he won’t make you look bad. He’ll be too busy swooning in the background to do anything truly reckless.” He adjusts your collar with an air of finality, giving you a nod. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, he returns to his preparations, mumbling something under his breath about how only you could take Rook’s intensity as a “feature” rather than a “warning sign.” But you catch the faint smile on his face as he walks away, leaving you feeling oddly reassured.

Final Intervention: Idia

Idia’s “intervention” is the sort of spectacle that would probably have your other friends dial emergency numbers if they walked in. He's got his laptop perched on a stack of comics, his tablet propped up, and an honest-to-Seven laser pointer he’s brandishing like it’s going to physically ward off any poor life choices.

He points at his first diagram, titled in neon-green font: "Why Your Boyfriend Should Not Be Tracking Your Every Move Like a Supervillain”. It's complete with cartoonish red arrows and diagrams that could pass for an undergrad thesis on questionable behavior.

Rook’s sitting beside you, nodding along with a strangely approving look, as if Idia's crude drawings are just part of the "unrefined genius" he'd expect from mere mortals.

When Idia clicks to his next slide—a very intense pie chart on “Reasons You’re Definitely in Danger"—you shrug. “Look, Idia, everyone’s got their quirks, right? He leaves poetry scrolls for me; you send messages only through encrypted text channels with six layers of memes as the header.”

Idia stares at you, blinking, and drops his laser pointer. It rolls pathetically across the floor, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from fainting. “Th-This isn’t the same! I don’t leave my IP address in your flowerbeds!”

Rook, thrilled, interjects. “Ah, but would you not feel a poetic stirring in your heart if you did, monsieur? Every new line I compose is a love letter to the chase!”

Idia sways. You’re genuinely worried he might black out.

Life, as it turns out, continues with a healthy dose of Rook’s “love language,” which to everyone else looks like the dictionary definition of a security risk.

Yet, you find yourself smiling every time he swoops in with that glittering look in his eyes, poetry scrolls under his arm and a thousand strange ideas.

And even if everyone around you is either looking into exorcisms or planning escape routes, for you, it’s just another day of living your best life.

Masterlist

[supernovafics]

boyfriend!steve who loves recording everything

wc: 899

a/n: been thinking about this a lot a lot and finally got around to writing it

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and here we have my beautiful girlfriend who put this whole party together.”

you looked into the video camera for a brief second, drunkenly smiling into it before looking up at steve. “you’re having way too much fun with this thing already, birthday boy.”

“what? it’s actually a very cool gift.” you could tell steve was a little drunk too, but you didn’t think that would’ve changed how into the gift he was; the camera the kids pooled their money together to get for him. “say hi.”

“hi,” you said, smiling and looking right into the lens again, and then you playfully stuck your tongue out at it. 

“i love you,” steve said with a soft happy laugh. “so much.”

“i love you too. so, so much,” you told him and he leaned down to kiss you. 

“thank you again for doing this whole thing,” he mumbled against your lips. “best surprise ever.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “no need to thank me. you deserve it, best boyfriend ever.”

the camera was filming the wooden floor at this point, but it probably still picked up what you two were saying. 

you pulled away from steve after a second, knowing that the longer you two were wrapped up in one another, the more your friends would playfully make fun of the two of you.

“you should go film robin and nancy doing karaoke. i think that them drunkenly singing bohemian rhapsody needs to be documented.” 

steve nodded. “great idea.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after that first night, it should’ve been obvious, but that camera became steve’s favorite thing. it almost made the new pair of nikes you’d gotten him look like the most boring gift ever, but you didn’t really mind it.  

it was always the most random moments that he wanted to record of you two. “for memories” was always his response when you asked why he wanted to record you two brushing your teeth in the morning or you two lying on the couch and watching a bad movie that he brought home from family video. 

or even in this moment when you two were cooking in the kitchen of your shared apartment.

you immediately gave him a look when you noticed him turn on the camera. “steve, you’re making it seem like we’re cooking something super elaborate. it’s just a grilled cheese.” 

“it’s still like a fun cooking show,” he said, smiling as he set the camera up on the counter, placing it on top of a stack of random containers. “what do you need, chef?”

there was no way of telling if either of you were actually in the frame— you had a feeling that at least your heads were cut off— but still, you decided to play along. he was acting too cute and adorable not to. 

“bread and cheese, chef,” you told him as you went to grab a pan from the cabinet below you. “oh, and butter too.”

“got it,” steve nodded and went over to the pantry and then the fridge, and then made a show of showing the camera all of the ingredients he grabbed. 

you couldn’t help but laugh a little as you watched him. you decided to play along further and follow suit as you did most of the actual cooking; making a point of showing the camera exactly what you were doing and even exaggeratingly explaining it too. 

and when you two were eating at your small kitchen table ten minutes later, you admitted to steve with a smile that he was right, and filming everything did make it feel like a “fun cooking show.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

and then there were the moments when you were the one to grab the camera and initiate the recording. it was seldom, but when you did do it, steve always got the happiest grin on his face. 

like, in this moment, when you were coming out of the bathroom and grabbing steve’s t-shirt that had been haphazardly tossed to the floor thirty minutes earlier and slipping it over your body. for no particular reason, other than you found yourself wanting to, you grabbed the camera off of steve’s nightstand and then slid into his lap, straddling him.

he was already smiling as you turned on the camera and the familiar red light came on when you pressed record. 

“say hi,” you told him, your own smile on your face as you pointed the camera at him. his messy hair from what you two had previously been doing was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen and you made sure the camera saw it. 

he smiled wider. “hi.”

one of his hands found your bare thigh and you let out a contented hum in response. 

“y'know, i’m surprised you haven’t asked to film us yet,” you said softly. "us doing what we just did…”

his eyes widened a bit at your shy suggestion and you smiled wider, zooming in on his expression. “is that an option?”

you stopped recording him then and reached over to set the camera back down on the nightstand. 

“maybe,” you answered, shrugging innocently. “i think it could be kinda hot.”

steve shook his head. “not just kinda. very hot.”

you leaned down to kiss him then. it was slow and languid and steve’s hands immediately went to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.  

“very hot,” you hummed in agreement. 

[crazyvik97rpg]

Sadly, despite it all, their conversation had to come to an end eventually. Sebastian said good bye to all the kitties, he even accompanied William home to his house at this point, until a nurse came into his room to give him a light sedative. It was better that way, he would sleep better and his body needed the rest. At that point Sebastian got quite sleepy quickly anyway - William was too, oh he so was. "Oh yes, dove, go to sleep. Please. It's been such a long day. You need your sleep", Sebastian sighed, understanding of course.

Plenty of 'I love you's' and 'good bye's' followed but then they did hang up.

The nurse wished Sebastian a good night, that he could ring in case he needed anything - then she closed the door behind herself and the room got all dark. Soft light was coming in through the window and some noise, some steps from outside the hallway could be heard every now and then - all in all, dead quiet, other than the soft noise of Sebastian's heart monitor.

He couldn't really think much longer about today - it had been eventful, stressful, he felt exhausted, had some pain and soreness to deal with. When he fell asleep mostly due to the sedatives he longed for William's arms more than ever. He slept somewhat peacefully - at least that.

The next day started quite early. For their colleagues it was just like any other day of work - for Eric, Alan and Ronald too when they met each other in the faculty room that morning. Molly, quite familiar with a bunch of colleagues at this point, really integrated herself well into the team so far. She was really having a good time, got along well with her students too. So far, she was mostly working with Elizabeth, to learn more about her teaching methods and such. But every lunch break she would sit with the music teachers too and chat, sometimes they'd meet in the morning as well.

This morning, it was kind of just Ronald, Alan and Eric that chatted together. Neither of them had any clue about Sebastian's long absence or that he was on sick leave now. They just stood together and chatted about Ronald's last date with Sonia, something like that.

Sebastian's morning, on the other hand, started a little later. One good thing - he could sleep in. The sedatives plus pain meds had kicked in quite a bit. By the time he woke up it was already past 9am, a nurse next to his bed as she was changing his IV bags.

"Oh, good morning Mr Michaelis", she hummed friendly, continued her work without cease, "Slept well? How are you feeling this morning? I changed your IV fluids and pain medication. If you want, I brought some breakfast for you as well".

Sebastian needed a moment to even wake up properly at this point - he blinked his eyes, the sedatives still had taken their toll on him. But the nurse was sweet - at least that, so he knew what was going on after a little bit. One thing he knew for sure - he felt very sore and his pain was definitely more intense than yesterday. It seemed like all the numbing from surgery was completely gone now and he could only rely on pain IVs. Good god...day was already starting well...

"...I slept...well, yea. Thank you..."

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[coolchasteboy]

"Jennifer, we need to talk." "Why do you keep calling me Jennifer, my name is Josh" I said. "Oh, OK 'Josh' we need to talk" she said very sarcastically. I didn't think it was funny. But Mina had been slowly feminizing me for about six months by this time. "What do you want to talk about."

"Jennifer, it is time that you start wearing panties all the time. I know you keep some boxer shorts and some men's bikini briefs to wear for the gym, but we can't move forward with your transition if you still wear men's underwear." "Well, who says I want to move forward with this." With this Mina got a serious look on her face. "I want it and Tyrone wants it. He isn't going to let you live with me if he thinks you think you are still a man." My heart sunk. "Well, what, I mean, what does Tyrone have to do with this. I mean, I agreed that you could see him and I even started wearing condoms like you asked so there was no risk that my cummies would get you pregnant. What else do you want?"

With that Mina, came over and hugged me. "I know Jennifer, it is hard. But this is really for the best. Being a girl really suits you. Don't you think?" "Well, um .... OK I guess it does in some ways. I feel more comfortable as a girl and the HRT is starting to work on my breasts. But I am still a boy - I mean I am still a man!!!" "Of course you are my sweet, but you are a different type of boi. You are a boi who is better as a girl. And you look really cute in your dresses. And remember, the guys are finding you quite attractive at work and the gym. I bet it won't be long until one of them asks you out on a date." "OMG, you think so Mina. I do love my dresses and heals and Chad at work has brushed my butt quite a few times last week." "See my sweet, you are turning into such a woman, much better than when you were a a so-called man. So it is official, only bras and panties as your underwear from now on, OK?"

What was I to say, Mina was right - as usual. I really am a much better girl than I ever was as a man. I took to heals very quickly. And I look so much better completely shaved. Oh, and I love my nail polish. So yeah, she is right, but still ... "Mina, can I still fuck you from time to time?" "Jennifer, you know how Tyrone feels about that." "But Mina I wear condoms now. And you are on the pill. There is no way I can get you pregnant." She replied "you are half right." I didn't understand and asked her what she meant. "You do indeed wear condoms, but I am not on the pill anymore. Tyrone threw them away and said I was not to take them anymore. He said that his cum is to circulate freely in my pussy. That I am to always take his cum in my pussy or in one of my other holes. I was worried about getting pregnant. He said not to worry. He was so sweet. He said 'baby girl, your pussy is meant to hold the seed of a BBC. It wants to feel the seed in it. And it also wants to take one of those seeds to make a baby. It is my job and it is your duty to make a baby for us.'"

I was stunned. "How long have you been off the pill?" "It started about 3 weeks after you started wearing condoms. So I guess about 8 weeks now." I was just stunned. "Were you going to tell me?" "No" she said. "Tyrone said our love making is none of your business." I asked, "does this mean I can no longer fuck you?" "Sweety, really. I mean, I can't even feel you inside me. He has stretched my pussy so much that I don't even know when you are inside me. I just moan and tell you how big and thick you are so that you will cum quicker and get it over with. You can't compete with Tyrone, that is why you are now a full-time panty wearer. Do you understand?"

All I could do was nod my head yes. I did understand. It made me feel a bit dejected. But I knew it was right. Panties just fit me better. I liked the different styles - bikini, string bikini, thong - and I loved wearing pink panties. Even our friends know I wear panties as Mina as made sure to tell them that I am a pink panty boi.

"OK Mina, I understand. I will get rid of my last few boy underwear. It will be embarrassing wearing my pink panties to the gym, but I guess most of the guys there no I am a sissy by now anyway." "That is so true Jennifer. I think the pink yoga pants that make your little tushy so cute gave that one away."

"I love you Mina. Thank you for helping me realize my authentic self. I was meant to be a woman." With that we both hugged and started crying. "I love you so much Jennifer" she said as she lightly kissed my lips.

Daddy likes that I only ever wear panties now. 🥰

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

62 / 3.4k / final part of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader

kinktober keywords: dubcon, anal, double penetration, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

nsfw ⬇

Soap has his filthy way with you, pushing into you with the longest, most agonizingly slow strokes you can imagine. You swear you nearly peak every time he bottoms out. And he might as well be edging you every time he pulls drags himself back. You can't pretend like you don't want every second of it, though--your  walls grip him fervently.

Soap slowly loses himself to his instincts. He ruts into you harder and faster--just like you're crying out for him to do, you register dimly--until he snarls and pulls out. You whine in protest until something warm and wet spurts across your back, and you sigh contentedly in the knowledge that you brought him satisfaction.

Just as you're catching your breath, though, he chuckles and repositions himself so his second cock is pressing up against your swollen core. "Don't know about you, hen, but I've got plenty more time and energy to spend."

"Ah--!" you gasp out as he pushes the second, still-throbbing head into you. You don't think you're capable of going any longer. But even as you collapse with your forearms against the gravel, hands balled into fists, you'd like nothing more than for him to keep using you. You're painfully aware this time that you're having that thought and enjoying this little game all on your own. No hypnotic suggestion necessary. Maybe Gaz did ease you into it, but you knew what would happen to you if you let them keep touching you. You knew, and you let it happen.

He keeps pounding, huge hands groping up and down your form. Just as he seems ease up into something resembling a caress, he clamps one hand around the back of your neck, slides his other hand to your ass, and squeezes with a throaty laugh.

You feel his fingertip prodding at your asshole. "Hey!" you squeak, trying to wiggle forward.

It only makes Soap chuckle. "Hey?"

"You're not supposed to touch that!"

"Really now."

"Aye," you tell him, mimicking his accent.

Soap's hips snap in an especially rough thrust.

"Ah!"

"You sure you want to sass me right now?"

You huff as he continues rubbing little circles around the tighter hole. "Just... watch it."

Soap laughs and eases the very tip of his claw into the rim. His hips don't slow down either, fucking another harsh breath out of you. "Or what?"

You swallow, gripping the gravel under your palms. "I don't think I can hold any more," you plead.

Gaz doesn't say anything, but his expression shifts with interest. Soap pauses for a moment. Gaz speaks first. "But you'll try, won't you?"

You feel dizzy again. His voice drifts into parts of your brain you never thought possible. You love it and you hate it. Soap uses his grip on your neck to angle your upper body up and your hips down. At that angle, his tip grinds even harder into your most sensitive inner cluster of nerves.

You cry out, bucking your hips back into the finger pressing into your ass. "Yes!"

Soap smirks. "There's a good human."

You pant, trying to ease your legs further apart. But grinding any lower into the gravel hurts your knees, and Soap's hand on your neck keeps you from bending forward and slumping to the ground.

The pace of his strokes slows as he works his finger in a little more. It's already slippery with your own arousal, Soap’s spit, and Gaz's spend covering the crux of your thighs. You’re a mess. Even so, you're wary of his claw--it's meant to rip flesh--but as long as he’s controlling himself, it's fairly blunt. You hate how easily you take in his thumb up to the first knuckle despite its size. Gaz watches with a look on his face that only makes you feel more lightheaded.

Soon enough, Soap's thumb is sheathed inside you to the proverbial hilt. He releases his hold on your neck and uses your ass to maneuver you instead.

He stares down at both your openings with a crooked smirk. "Damn near perfect sex toy, isn't she?" he says idly. "Two holes lined right up."

"Fuck you," you groan out, rutting backward against him. Your body is on fire despite the cool ocean mist falling over you and the wind pushing down along the cliffsides around you. You're so close.

Soap chuckles. "You wanna get rough, hen?"

"Nnh..."

Gaz takes hold of your chin and turns your gaze toward him. "Be honest. You get what you ask for when you don’t use your words."

His face is close. You feel yours heat up.

Behind you, Soap groans. "Clenching on me," he mutters. His pace slows before your tightness can overwhelm him further. He slides his thumb back and forth.

You blink up at Gaz with hazy eyes. "I want to cum," you tell him.

"Yeah?" His thumb strokes your chin. "You seemed so hesitant not long ago. What changed?"

"I... You..."

"Mmhm?" Gaz's thumb brushes your lower lip. "You’re communicating so well. Don't stop now."

"You tricked me. You lied."

"Did I? What did I lie about?"

"You hypnotized me," you gasp out. Your voice shakes as Soap punches in and out of you. "And then you said-- ah-- you said I wanted it anyway."

"Hypnosis isn't magic. I put a few suggestions into your head. You reacted on your own."

You try to bite back a cry of pleasure. It comes out a sob. Soap pushes himself to go faster again, finally, feeling you tighten up as you near your limit.

"You-- you made me-- turned me into--" Your voice breaks as the tension inside you snaps. You clamp down hard on Soap’s thumb and his cock. Your body rolls uncontrollably. Milking him. It feels so good, so full, you could cry.

"Good job," Gaz coos. "You feel a little better when you stop thinking too hard, don't you?"

You sag, panting, and half-collapse into his lap.

Gaz catches you easily before you can slump to the ground. "That's right," he murmurs, letting you rest your head against his chest.

Soap pounds you a few more times and lets out a long, hissing groan as he finishes. He grips your hips and pumps you up and down his shaft to finish himself off. Then, finally, he leans forward, hands on either side of you, and sighs in satisfaction. His teeth graze your shoulder like he wants to sink them in opposite where Gaz’s bite mars you, but the only marks his mouth leaves are warm, wet kisses. As much as lathes of his tongue can be called kisses.

They let you rest for a blessed moment. Then Gaz's hands wrap around your middle and ease you into his lap, chest to chest.

As he does, Soap slides out of your guts. You hiccup, feeling Gaz's two cocks--both hard again, fuck--lean up against your stomach. You press your palms to his chest. Your forehead, too. You don't dare meet his eyes for fear he'll remold your will again.

Gaz's chest rumbles with a laugh. It's a low sound with an undertone like a growl. "You're tired, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Obviously."

He strokes over your hair and down your spine. "And still running your mouth."

"Hmph."

It makes him chuckle. "Don't be stubborn about it," he murmurs. "I'm not done with you yet."

"But I..." You trail off as he lifts you into the air and positions you over both erections. You stare down at them, biting your bottom lip. Your brain is so sluggish after that climax. You feel like a toy and you still don't think you hate it as much as you should.

"You can take it," he murmurs, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. "You'll take it just fine, yeah?"

He lowers you until you feel his tip nudge against your core. You shift instinctively to put your legs forward and rest your feet on either side of him.

"Good," he says. "Now, nice and slow."

He eases you down onto one shaft with slow, firm movement until he bottoms out.

"Ah..." Your legs twitch and you lean back, feeling that incredible stretch again. His other cock rests against your stomach, your clit, stimulating you even more with little grinding jolts.

"How's that feel?" he murmurs, taking a moment to steady you.

You stare at him with half-lidded eyes and a slack mouth. You hardly register he's speaking to you, much less that he's expecting a response.

Gaz chuckles and rolls his hips up. "Still running that mouth?" He murmurs with a touch of amusement. "Or have I finally shut it?"

"M-More, please," you manage.

He groans and grinds up into you. "Good answer."

He slides you back up, his flared tip stretching your entrance again almost to the point of popping out. Then he lets you sink all the way down again.

Up, down. You let your hands rest on his, wrapped securely around your waist, as he handles you like a doll. You let your head loll back again, exposing the column of your throat. You've been bit and tossed around and come on and in and fucked every which way already. What's one more bite? One more round?

His shaft pushes up against the front of your tight walls. You let out a drunken sigh, almost a laugh. You're ruined for human men. You're sure of it.

Every noise that leaves your mouth is like honey. Gaz's lips find your neck as his tongue traces over the mark Soap left. You left him have his way with you, and he wants to make it worth your while. He's more indulgent, more curious than Soap is. He notices when your moans quiet and you roll your hips as if seeking satisfaction just beyond your reach. "What's wrong?"

"Ugh." You scowl when he slows. You're still tight as hell, especially with how swollen your climax made you, but there's something you want more of. You reach down and begin to play with yourself, sighing at the feeling, but it doesn't help you the way you want.

His eyes lock onto the way you rub yourself. Very interesting. "Need something?"

"Could you, um... could you, like. Well." You look to the side. "Could you put it in my ass again?"

"That's a bold request. You liked Soap's finger, then."

You shrug.

Gaz chuckles and leans closer. "You're a mess," he murmurs.

You bite your lip as he eases you up and off his cock. Then he rests it--the same one, slick and dark--against your ass. Soap's hands come to his aid and spread you out from behind. You squeak in surprise.

Soap's voice is behind you. "Dirty girl. What would your kind think of you now?"

You don't dignify that jab with an answer.

Instead, you focus on steadying your breath and relaxing your body as Soap drags his fingers down through your slit to collect a sheen of slick. He slides one finger into your ass. Then two. Then scissors them, loosening you up.

You rock your hips back in little motions that drive him deeper. It sends pleasurable waves shooting down your whole body. You need more. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Soap murmurs. "You want a little bit more?"

"Mmm!"

Soap hums. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"Yes!" You buck your hips harder. "Please!"

Soap laughs. He replaces his prodding fingers with Gaz's tip once again. You close your eyes as his tip opens you up. There's a pinch as he eases up into the tight muscle right at your opening. Suddenly he feels way, way bigger. Keeping careful hold on you, Gaz eases you down a fraction of an inch at a time. You both know this hole isn't as forgiving. But God, does the squeeze feel good.

He sees your brows knit and pauses before he lowers you further. "Does this hurt?"

"I can take it."

"I know you can. I'm asking if it hurts."

"I said I can take it," you mutter. "I'm in control of my own actions. You said so. I want it all the way in."

"And I'm taking my time to make sure I don't hurt you. You're lucky I'm in a generous mood."

He lowers you a little more. Your core twitches around nothing. "Ah... It hurts a little, but it feels good."

"You can take more, huh?" he murmurs. "You're strong stuff, yeah?"

"Nnh... yeah..."

The way he presses into you stretches your sensitive spot from the back. Your core drools. A needy, wanton sound escapes your throat, and your hands latch onto his shoulders again. "Right there. Fuck."

He likes hearing you let yourself go. He likes that it's for him. "Yeah? That feels good?"

He lifts you up again and slides you back down carefully. His second cock catches on your core, the head grinding past your sensitive nub before it glides past and bounces to your stomach again.

Your back arches in his hands. You need more.

Gaz eyes you arching and squirming in his hold. It’s really something. "You're eager. Need satisfaction that bad?"

You nod frantically. Your hand shoots back down to your clit. You roll and rub frantically for more stimulation. You don't notice the way he watches you do it, even when you try to slide your fingers into your slit. Your clumsy fingertips slip around your drooling hole, but you can't reach that spot inside you he's stretching. It feels so good, radiating all the way to your toes. It would feel so much better if you could just…

There's a strangled noise from behind you. Soap watches you intently.

Gaz smirks at him. "You like the show?"

"Aye."

Gaz laughs. Your desperation is interesting all on its own. Maybe he should've teased you a little more instead of selfishly getting himself off first. Maybe he still could--

That thought comes to a screeching halt when your fingers ghost over his cock, the one still pressed lazily against your stomach. He growls but doesn't slow his pace. "Watch it," he warns.

Driven to desperation, you take it again in your hand again and guide it toward your pussy. You need it in you. You need everything he has to offer.

Soap watches with wide eyes. "Oh, she's playing dirty, isn't she?"

Gaz’s cock slides away from your too-tight hole again and grinds up your slit and against your nub instead. It feels good, but still, you groan in frustration as he sinks your ass all the way down onto his other cock. Then back up. You try again. "Just let me--"

"You're too damned impatient."

Soap chuckles. "I don't know, I kind of like it. Slip it in, human, see if it really pisses him off."

"No," Gaz retorts. "You're gonna hurt yourself like that. Stop it."

"Just the tip," you plead.

Gaz grits his teeth. You're really going to be his undoing, aren't you?

"Soap," he barks, "hold her."

Soap immediately does as instructed. He grabs your waist. He's much less gentle than Gaz, who releases your upper half to Soap's control. Gas stays in you, but grabs your hips to angle your legs open and up. He glares at you. Then he prods at your core with his thumb, smearing the slick dripping out of you all over your entrance. Then he thumps it with his other tip. Your breath hitches. You buck your hips up impatiently. The motion pushes only the very tip inside. Gaz knew it would happen, but still. His chest catches with a rough, strained sound. "Stop moving before you make me hurt you."

You bite your lip. "You can hurt me a little."

His eyes darken. He pulls your hips forward just enough to stretch you all the way around his tip. Fine. If you want to make things harder on yourself, he'll play along.

You suck in a breath. That's a lot of dick. Maybe too much dick. But hell, if you're already ruined for men your own species, you might as well go all the way. You gaze down at his shaft disappearing into you with a vacant smile on your lips. You really are the perfect sex toy for this. Both holes are positioned perfectly to take him.

Your expression and your words only stoke the fire in Gaz’s gut. There's a very specific feeling he has to tamp down when he sees what he does to you. A sense of primal, territorial satisfaction. He wants to devour you whole. The temptation is unspeakable.

He does his best to calm his nerves before he speaks, but his voice is tight. "Doing alright, love?"

"Better than alright," you purr. His member is pushing up against your sensitive spot, just like you wanted. Every subtle shift sends pleasure throbbing up your walls. You pulse and tighten up as if to pull him deeper in.

"That's good," Gaz breathes. "Just the tip."

You sigh happily as he pumps his hips into you just enough to keep fucking your ass. But he doesn't get any deeper into your core. You frown, trying to prop yourself up with your elbows against Soap's chest to see get a better view of where you're joined. Soap easily pulls you back against him. He cups one of his big hands around your breasts and starts squeezing and toying with it crudely. You huff and roll your hips.

Gaz hardly notices you squirming. You feel too good trying to take him in. You're close to doing it, too. The way your walls are tightening and pulsating around him. He narrows his eyes at your blissed out expression. "You're... are you close? From just this?"

You nod.

Soap laughs. "You made her too greedy."

Gaz pushes into you a little harder, letting himself slip further into both holes. You moan like the stretch is the best thing you've ever felt. It's so slow. Exquisite. The rub of him inside you lights your nerve endings up like nothing else. The pace he sets has you seeing stars.

By the time he seats himself all the way inside you--to the hilt of both members--you're cumming with a weak keen, arching up between him and Soap, just as the sun is beginning to slip below the horizon.

That primal satisfaction radiates from his chest to the end of his tail in heavy, powerful waves. You've taken him so well. He reaches out and tugs your chin up to admire your expression.

"There you go," he murmurs. "You did good. Just like I asked."

You can hardly keep your eyes open. But his voice makes you feel warm despite the air blowing cold across your damp body. "Mm?"

Your awareness is fuzzy as Gaz keeps fucking you to completion and fills you up. At some point, you must fall asleep, because the next thing you know, you're cradled against a warm, broad chest and shuffled into the water. You loop your arms around his neck, eyes still closed, and hold on. But instead of taking you underwater again, he keeps to the surface.

Sometime later, you're stumbling back into your own bed, salt in your hair and your body exhausted beyond imagining. The next morning, when you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for 45 minutes, wondering if it all could've possibly happened. You vaguely remember the day before, but the memory feels far off and dreamlike. Until you take a shower and notice the myriad of bites on your shoulders and thighs and lips. You're bruised up pretty badly, actually.

You try to return to your normal life, but what you did itches at the back of your mind. Sometimes you still hear Gaz’s voice, his suggestions buried deep in your subconscious like a venomous barb. You don't sleep well. Your dreams leave you panting and sweating and no matter how much you try to take care of your constant sexual cravings by yourself, they never quite go away.

Not until you return to the docks one night.

You aren't sure what compels you to return. A memory. A compulsion. A siren’s call. But your feet steer you there without a thought, and the moment you step on the docks, two mermen are already there, waiting.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5]

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

thanks y'all! o(*￣▽￣*)o

[endereies]

MOVIE NIGHT - CS

No Nut November - Day 9

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ You and Chris relaxing and watching a film together

You and Chris had gotten settled on the sofa together while the tv was shining over the pair of you while it displayed a film you’d seen before. All the lights were turned off and the smell of fresh sweet and salty popcorn filled your senses. A fluffy blanket covered the majority of your body while Chris just sat next to you in one of his larger hoodies These moments happened less than you both wanted, with both of your schedules colliding. However, when they did happen, you both settled into each other’s company quickly, unwinding from the week just gone.

The longer the movie plays, you take notice of his movements towards you. Even with your legs touching, he needed more of the person he loved. In his mind the film had been long abandoned, and his attention drew to the way the film cast a soft glow to your face. Your cheekbones were slightly more accentuated, your eyes had gained a little more sparkle, and a dusting of blush covered the tip of your nose. He just couldn’t stop admiring you. Chris loved the simple things about you especially the way your nose twitched whenever he made popcorn to share. He was just so drawn you, and he had no control.

After a while of Chris inching closer, his chin laid on your shoulder. You were used to Chris being close to you, but after realising how much he moved, you giggled in confusion.

“Chris...? Whatcha doing...” He didn’t utter a word and just wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his fingers rubbing back and forth where your shirt lifted. Eventually he spoke, his voice melodic and lethargic.

“Nothing, just love m’girl.” You rolled your eyes, covering the way your blush grew deeper in your cheeks.

“Are you even watching?” you questioned his behaviour subtly.

“I’m watching you, does that count.” As much as you try, you can’t seem to regain focus back on to the film and you just feel him watching you silently. He notices the way you react, quickly commenting on it.

“Sorry baby, you’re just adorable what can I say?” Chris smiles softly, drawing one hand up to run through your hair, pushing back a few strands so he can see you better.

“Chris. You’re actually a dork.” A few pieces of popcorn shovel into your mouth, distracting you from his sweet comments. You couldn’t help but blush whenever he spoke about you. His words lulled you further into your emotions and he somehow always knew what to say.

“You love it” he leant his head forwards slightly and glanced quickly at your lips. “May I?”

With a nod from you as permission, he closed the remaining amount of distance and shyly kissed you. A satisfied hum leaves him which makes you smile into the kiss. You both kept it mild yet tender and when he pulled back, he stared into your eyes, a stupid grin on his face.

“I love you, you know that right?” In that moment, everything faded away. You knew he loved you and yet you still found yourself acting like a high-school kid with their first crush when he said it to you. “I love you too Chris.”

He leant back to his original position, not before grabbing a handful of the now cold popcorn and shovelling it into his mouth.

“Babe? Can you rewind it? I was not paying attention…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[seitmai]

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

Endearing is just the perfect description for Bob 🥰

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

🤭🤭🤭

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.” You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.” “Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink.

Oh Bobby 🥹

He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

Hahah this cracked me up 😂

“And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

Perfect answer 👏🏻

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

The way I just know Phoenix and Coyote are gonna drink those tequila shots with the most sexual tension between them 🤭

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

I love how they have this verbal sparring going on

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

Oh they are having the best time, front row and all 😅

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?” Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

He's like: oh please don't rope me into this 🫣

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

Oh I have a feeling Phoenix knows something the others don't 🤭🤔

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

👀👀👀

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

Hehe I knew it 😌 maybe Jake and Bradley should just kiss each other, they already bicker like an old married couple 🤭

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

🥰🥰🥰

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

They are like:

🤯🤯🤯

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

He is just so cute 🥰

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Urgh they are perfect together and Bob's blushing is just so cute 🥰

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.” Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

Haha this is just perfect!! And Phoenix is reeling of joy, I know it 😅

The quiet ones

Summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.

Chapter Warning: Secret relationship reveal, unexpected PDA, and flustered teammates, drinking.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

The sun is barely up, casting a soft glow over the empty beach outside The Hard Deck as you pull open the doors and step into the familiar dimness of the bar.

You've been doing this for years—unlocking before the heat of the day sets in, setting up stools, and sliding glasses onto the shelves with the smooth rhythm you've perfected. Today feels the same, but something in the air hints it won't be an ordinary shift. There's a buzz, the sort that comes with Navy missions brewing, whispered over drinks in tones low enough that only bartenders know how to hear.

You're wiping down the bar when the door creaks open. You look up and spot a guy with dark-rimmed glasses, a touch of shyness evident in the way he stands at the door, scanning the place like he’s about to get reprimanded just for being here early. He's tall but sort of unassuming, a guy who'd rather fade into the background. He's a contrast to the pilots who usually come in loud, all bravado and swagger. You recognize him instantly: Bob, the quiet one who stands at the edges of the Dagger Squad.

As he approaches, you give him a slow, easy smile and cross your arms, leaning back. "Hey there. Early start for you guys?"

He swallows hard, adjusting his glasses. “Uh…yeah. Just…getting a round for the squad.” His voice is barely audible, like he’s half-hoping you’ll mishear and let him walk away without much fuss.

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

“So…who’s in charge of this little mission?” you ask, setting down a few glasses with a subtle clink.

He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…Admiral Simpson.”

You chuckle. “Beau? That's my uncle."

Bob's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he stammers out a response. "Oh. Uh, wow. I… I didn’t know." The faintest blush creeps up his cheeks, and he looks down, almost embarrassed to be caught off guard like that.

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smirk, letting your fingers trace the rim of a glass, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Uh…thanks. I just—um, I’ll take…uh, the round,” he manages, his voice catching as you pour the drinks.

You can see his struggle—the way he wants to say something, but every time he opens his mouth, he clams up. He's never met anyone like you before, that’s obvious. The confidence, the tattoos, the piercings peeking through the fabric—it all ties together into something that leaves him completely off balance. And he’s… well, adorable.

As you slide the last glass across the bar to him, you give him a wink. “See you around, Bob. Bring your friends by sometime.”

He mutters a quiet “thank you” and shuffles out, beers in hand and cheeks flushed. And as he heads out the door, you can't help but grin to yourself, wondering if he’ll find the nerve to say more next time.

---

It’s a typical night at The Hard Deck, the bar buzzing with energy, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and rock music blaring from the jukebox. The place is packed with Navy types, just as it always is when there’s no active mission holding them back. You’re behind the bar, quick on your feet, sliding drinks to customers and catching up with the regulars. Then, through the crowd, you spot him.

Hangman strides up to the bar with that cocky swagger he’s famous for. Tall, blond, and all confidence, he’s got a grin that could charm the devil himself. And he knows it. Tonight, he’s dressed in his usual off-duty look—just tight enough T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. But that’s the game he plays, and tonight you’re ready for him.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning across the bar just a little too close. “Thought you’d be closed by now.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting your hands on the bar and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I thought you’d be up in the air by now,” you shoot back, your tone teasing. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He chuckles, clearly delighted by the challenge. “All right, you got me there,” he says, glancing around. “But I’ve got a list for you. The squad’s thirsty tonight.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” you say, pulling out a row of glasses, ready to work but giving him your full attention.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.”

“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink. “But hey, he’ll survive. Next up, Coyote wants a whiskey—neat. You know how he is. And Rooster…” He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

You slide the beers across to him, already pouring the whiskey as he keeps going. “And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

He laughs, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Ouch, darlin’. That one stings.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense before letting his gaze flick down to the line of tattoos trailing up your arm, then back to meet your eyes with a mischievous glint. “But as long as you’re the one serving, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

You pour him a whiskey, sliding it over the bar with a raised brow. “Think you can handle it?”

He picks up the glass, holding it up to you with that easy, confident grin. “Oh, I can handle a lot more than that. But I like a bartender who can keep me on my toes.” He takes a sip, never breaking eye contact, letting the moment hang in the air.

The bar is still loud around you, but there’s a beat where it’s just you and him, his gaze heavy and flirtatious, yours daring him to keep going. He leans in a little closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You know, we should get a drink somewhere else sometime. Just you and me.”

You lean back, letting a slow smile spread across your face, but truly this guy is not for you. “Oh, is that an invitation?”

“Consider it an open one,” he replies, giving you a wink before stepping back to gather up the drinks. “But hey, don’t take too long thinking it over. I don’t like waiting.”

It’s been a busy night, the bar still packed as the crowd buzzes with the kind of energy that only comes when there’s no telling when the next mission will roll around. You’re behind the bar, catching your breath after that last round, when you catch sight of Rooster winding his way through the crowd, headed straight for you.

He’s wearing his usual laid-back style—well-worn jeans, a vintage band T-shirt, and that aviator jacket slung over his shoulders. He looks like something out of a different time, especially with those sunglasses perched up in his curls, even though it’s night. Rooster always has this quiet, steady confidence, like he knows he doesn’t need to announce himself. And there’s something a little different in his step as he approaches you, maybe a touch of playfulness in the way he’s looking at you, a half-smile already curving on his lips.

“Hey, bartender,” he says, leaning onto the bar with an easy grin. “I’m back for the squad’s refills, but this time I think we’re changing things up.”

“Oh yeah?” You give him an amused look, resting your hands on the bar and leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Guessing Hangman finally realized he can order something other than whiskey?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, Hangman’s hard to change. But the rest of us? We’re open to suggestions. Figured you might know what we need better than we do.”

You raise a brow, sensing the tease in his tone. “Oh, so now I’m in charge of drinks? Guess I must be moving up in the world.”

“Better believe it.” He flashes you a quick grin. “But you still gotta keep me entertained while you’re at it.”

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

“Tequila for Phoenix and Coyote,” you announce, lining them up. “And… let’s do something different for Bob. A Moscow Mule might be more his speed—something smooth but not too strong, I know he likes it.”

“Perfect,” Rooster nods, his eyes catching on the way your hands move as you pour, clearly fascinated. “And what do you recommend for me?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to consider as you tilt your head, catching his gaze. “Something with a bit of bite, I think. Something… classic.”

You reach for the whiskey, but instead of neat, you add a twist of orange, pouring a well-balanced Old Fashioned. You slide it over to him, catching his eye with a smirk. “Think you’re ready for that?”

He picks up the glass, turning it slowly in his hand, that same lazy smile lingering on his face. “Only if you’re ready to join me for one sometime,” he says, his voice low enough to make sure you catch the hint. He takes a sip, and his gaze stays fixed on you, watching your reaction, clearly testing the waters.

You raise an eyebrow, not about to let him off easy. “And what makes you think I’d go for a guy who takes drink recommendations from the bartender?”

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

“And you think you’re up to the standards?” You tilt your head, leaning on the bar just close enough that he has to take in every word.

His eyes flick down to your arm, where your tattoos catch the light, and then back up to meet yours, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “I think I’d be willing to try,” he says, his voice smooth, steady. “But I’ll leave it up to you if I get the chance.”

You shake your head, suppressing a grin, and reach for another glass, pouring yourself a splash of soda as you lean back. “How about you focus on delivering those drinks first, hotshot?”

Rooster raises his glass in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “Alright, boss,” he says, clearly amused. “But don’t think I’m letting this go that easily.”

He picks up the tray, balancing it with practiced ease as he throws one last look over his shoulder before heading back to the squad. You’re left behind the bar, catching your breath with a smile as you watch him go, knowing full well he’ll be back for another round—and maybe another shot at breaking through.

-

The Dagger Squad is clustered around a corner table, the drinks you just served scattered across the tabletop. Conversation and laughter flow easily, but the energy shifts the second Hangman and Rooster start eyeing each other, sizing each other up with cocky grins and sidelong glances. Bob, meanwhile, is trying his best to blend into the background, clutching his Moscow Mule and looking more than a little flustered as he watches his teammates' latest standoff unfold.

“You know, Rooster,” Jake drawls, leaning back in his chair and raising his whiskey with an infuriatingly smug smile, “you’re wasting your time here. She’s clearly more into a guy with… confidence.” He emphasizes the last word, smirking as he takes a slow sip, his eyes flicking over to the bar where you’re serving another customer.

Rooster snorts, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Confidence? Is that what you call whatever it is you do?” He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice casual, but the competitive gleam in his eyes betrays him. “Trust me, Bagman, she’s not going for the guy who struts around like a damn peacock.”

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

“Oh, please,” Jake fires back, unfazed. “You think that ‘slow burn’ routine of yours is going to win her over? Women don’t want to wait around forever. They like a guy who knows what he wants.” He casts another confident glance toward the bar, and Rooster follows his gaze, jaw tightening just slightly.

Bob, meanwhile, is turning a shade of red that nearly matches his squadmate’s call sign. He keeps his eyes firmly on his drink, but Phoenix catches the flush creeping up his neck and nudges him with her elbow.

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?”

Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

Rooster grins, reaching over to pat Bob’s shoulder, his tone almost affectionate. “See, Bob gets it. A guy who’s not all in her face about it.”

Jake rolls his eyes, scoffing as he leans back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘charming’ like shyly staring into your drink.”

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

“Oh, is that it?” Hangman laughs, tipping his glass toward Bob in mock salute. “Tell you what, Bob—if she turns me down, I’ll let you take a shot.”

Rooster shakes his head, chuckling. “Sure, Bob. If Jake somehow fails—and trust me, he will—you’ve got my blessing.”

Bob’s face is now a deep shade of crimson, and he lets out a nervous laugh, clearly mortified. But he can’t resist glancing over toward the bar, where you’re moving easily between customers, completely unaware of the mini-drama playing out across the room.

“You know what?” Rooster says, straightening up and giving Jake a look that’s half-challenge, half-smirk. “Why don’t we let her decide who’s worth her time?”

Jake’s eyes narrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Fine by me, Rooster. May the best man win.”

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

-

You’ve been keeping an eye on the Dagger Squad from behind the bar, and you’ve caught enough of the banter to know they’re up to something. You can feel the weight of their stares now, so you decide to put them out of their misery. With a knowing smile, you grab a couple of fresh napkins and make your way over to the table, letting your gaze linger on one person in particular.

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say with a playful lilt, giving him a warm smile. His head snaps up, his cheeks turning an immediate shade of pink.

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

“Oh, my god,” Phoenix gasps, covering her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watches Jake and Bradley try to process what they’re seeing. “No way. All this time, and she’s been with… Bobby?” Her eyes sparkle with pure delight as she glances back at you, unable to contain her excitement.

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“Wait…you’re with Bob?” Hangman says, still sounding completely baffled. He shakes his head, his usual confidence gone. “And you’re engaged?”

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.”

Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

[lovemomhatepolice]

max verstappen nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Max is very understanding after sex. He knows that many times you are very exhausted by your activities. He tries to give you as much warmth as he can and always listens to what you say to him so that each time is even better than the last. He really enjoys hugging you to himself and so does lying on top of you, knowing that you are next to him. B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) He likes his body and thinks he is appropriately athletic and tall. He has received many compliments in life because of this, so it has had a strong impact on his self-esteem. But he likes his arms best, especially after a workout, when his veins are strongly visible. In your case, he is a big fan of breasts. He loves to lie on them when he has a bad time. He loves to touch them when you make love. And he loves to look at them at every possible opportunity. C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Max isn't some cum fanatic, but he can't resist the sight of you nimbly swallowing whatever comes out of him after your perfect blowjob. Well normally he goes on his knees himself then (figuratively and not) D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) It may sound unprofessional, but when Max first saw you, he already knew exactly what he wanted your sex to look like. I know it sounds quite perverse - but you had exactly the same thing, and, to my horror, your visions were not at all different from each other E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Max is already 27 years old, of course he is experienced. I would not exaggerate to say that he is very experienced, but he is. He's had partners before you, with whom he's been with longer and shorter, so he's already experienced a lot - that's why he's skilled with his tongue or hitting the right spot every damn time F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy. Max knows what he wants and he's good at it. Taking you from behind gives him a lot of confidence and ability, so this is the best position for you. Oh, he still loves the way your back arches and has the ability to pull you close to kiss you. And you love it, because in this position Max can give you the most pleasure, especially when he's angry and emotional, and this is the easiest way for him to caress you G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He is rather serious when you make love. Sex is not strictly physical for him, and he likes to give a lot of emotion to it, so he is not a fan of emotionless fucking. And as for being moody at such moments, yes, it happens to him, sometimes you laughed or joked, he's not against it, not one bit H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Max is cut down to nothing there. He doesn't look like someone who likes himself in a thicket of hair, so he's perfectly coiffed there. As for you, he would probably also prefer it to be either to zero or with some I don't know, maybe a stripe through the middle? I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He loves to whisper romantic words to you and tell you how good you are to him. He hasn't experienced much of this in his life, so he tries to be as warm to you as possible. And he loves taking you out for romantic dinners before that J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This is a busy man. His stamina is not at all as high as it might seem, due to the fact that he is constantly living under stress and fighting for the championship. When you're not next to him and he doesn't have anyone to have sex with, he doesn't even think about masturbation, preferring to save it for the moment of your return, when you'll be next to each other and he can give it his all

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Max would like to be blindfooled. For once in his life, for it to be someone else who took control and he didn't know what was going on. Oh, until he shivers when he thinks about it. And then there's the realization that you would be the one making him feel good and guiding him to the end while he's blindfolded, how much he would give up for that…. L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Max is traditional. He's fed up enough with the media world and the hype surrounding his career that he most enjoys making love to you in bed, in your apartment. If it happens otherwise, of course, he doesn't complain, but he likes to be in your quiet surroundings.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Very often he feels like having sex before the race. That's when he gets tugged by higher emotions and is just overstimulated to the point that all he wants is to be in your arms. Or when you're wearing your skimpy pyjamas, oh god. Max purposely bought you more pairs of one and the same pyjamas, just to see you in them every day.

A/N: part two will be here soon! (If anyone wants me to tag them - let me know in the comments)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Interlude - Meddling With Our Hearts

Summary: Five times someone interferes with yours and Aemond’s relationship and one time you decide to take the reins and shape your own fate.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 6,9k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello!! How have you all been? This one came out faster than I expected! Yay!

Okay, just to explain a few things, so this chapter is a bonus, non-chronological chapter in the story. It is separated into items, as it follows the ‘5+1 Things’ model, spanning across several years. In item 1, Reader and Aemond are very young, around 4 and 6 respectively (and Aegon is around 10), whereas items 2, 3, 4 and 5 are set after chapter 1 of this story (think episodes 6 and 7 of season 1). Lastly, the last item is set in the middle of chapter 2. 

I am having lots of fun writing for Aemond, so much so I have a few ideas for unrelated one-shots I plan on writing for him. Anyway, I really really hope you enjoy this!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

1. Aegon Targaryen

As young children, wherever Aemond Targaryen was you were never too far behind. As the eldest of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children, you were often regarded as a possible successor of your mother’s to the title of the Realm’s Delight, being soft and sweet and so very beautiful even from such a young age. There was no shortage of people wanting to gaze upon you, spoil you with attention and possibly win over the favor of the heir to the Iron Throne after King Viserys I. But there was only ever one person whose attention you truly craved.

With the birth of your younger brother Jace and your mother’s pregnancy with yet another child, your parents’ attention was naturally split. It wasn’t to say they neglected you or favored your brother above you, oh no, but it was only natural that you were no longer their sole focus, even more fickle given their duties at court. Your father in particular, Ser Laenor, tried to give you as much attention as he possibly could, but even then that was restricted to specific times of the day, mostly at supper and after. It was an adjustment, for sure, and for a little while you resented your little brother, but you were quick to find another source of the attention you craved somewhere else: your uncle Aemond. You couldn’t possibly know why, nor had you ever thought about it, but you were drawn to him in ways you could not explain. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Aemond Targaryen, as the second son of King Viserys and his fourth child, was most often overlooked by many in court. He wasn’t Rhaenyra, who held their father’s unconditional love, or Aegon, who carried the title of his first male child, and matters were made worse by the fact that his dragon egg had yet to hatch, whereas Aegon’s had done so when he was still pretty young, and Helaena had quickly claimed Dreamfyre. Even his mother, who once doted on him like never before, had lessened her attention over him, as her fourth pregnancy progressed and her affection usually leaned more towards her only daughter. 

So when his little niece, barely old enough to attend lessons, had developed a fascination towards him and would often trail behind him wherever he went, he absolutely basked in the attention that was so freely given. You, who had no obligation to him other than to be cordial at best, gazing up at him with adoration in those innocent eyes made him cherish the moments you spend together.

It was only natural, then, that the two of you could often be found in each other’s presence. Whenever neither of you were having lessons and were left to your own devices, you seemed to always find each other, your tiny hand enveloped in Aemond’s not much bigger one as he pulled you behind him towards whatever destination he had in mind.

“Where we going, Aem?” your sweet voice, not yet able to properly speak his name, would often ask. The library, the dragonpit, the gardens, it didn’t truly matter as long as you were together.

Aem.

The nickname you had bestowed upon him was one of his deepest treasures. To everyone else he was either Aemond, son or brother, and two of these he had to share with other people, but to you, and to you alone, he was Aem. It was something so inherently his, something to share with you and only you. It reminded him of you, of the devotion and admiration you held for him, something no one else seemed to have for him, and he never wanted to let go of it.

But as he would be reminded time and time again he should never hope, nor should he wish for good things for himself, for they could be ripped from him at a moment’s notice.  

The day had started out like any other: after your lessons you had quickly scrambled out of your quarters to find Aemond and spend the day together. He had decided, then, to take you to the training grounds to watch some of the knights train.

“See that one over there?” he pointed to a man, just barely out of adolescence, training with Criston Cole “That is Ser Arryk. Or could he be Erryk? It matters not, either way, both of them are really good. Ser Criston is training them to be the newest members of the Kingsguard.”

“Wow.” you sounded from next to him, mesmerized by the clash of the swords.

“Impressive, hm?” he then pointed to another man who was supervising the training “Ser Criston, over there, he is the best knight in all the realms. I hope to train under him and be as good as he is one day.” 

He was eager to start training with the sword, like his older brother already did. His mother had promised him that he could start his own training after his next nameday, though it was still a few moons away, he was already eagerly waiting for that moment.

“You be amazing knight in future, Aem.” you turned towards him then, that look of pure reverence made warmth spread in his chest, for he felt your words were true.

“Aem?!” a familiar voice cackled behind the two of you, and Aemond could feel the cold dread seeping into his heart like it usually did when his brother decided to torment him.

Aegon marched over in your direction, almost an entire head taller than Aemond, and ruffled his younger brother’s hair with a tad more force than necessary.

“Oh, Aemy, you will be such an amazing knight one day.” he spoke in a poor imitation of your own voice, high pitched and overly sweet and dreamy. Your face was scrunched in anger and poorly contained humiliation, and had the two of you not been under scrutiny Aemond would have found it adorable.

“Aegon, stop it!” he tried defending the two of you but he couldn’t stop his own cheeks from lighting up in embarrassment.

“Aemy, oh, Aem. Perhaps our mothers will marry us off to one another and I can carry your children.” Aegon chuckled before flicking his brother on the forehead “You would surely want that, wouldn’t you, you twat?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a warcry unbefitting of a princess of the realm you delivered a sharp kick to Aegon’s shin, the only part of him you could really reach, before running off with tiny droplets streaming down your cheeks. Aemond tried going after you, holding your wrist, but you swatted his hand away and disappeared around the corner.

“She attacked me!” Aegon complained, voice strained from the intensity of the blow, utterly baffled at how something so small could carry so much strength.

“Oh, please!” Aemond pushed past his brother, annoyed, before stomping away towards his own quarters “It barely scratched. And you deserved it.”

For the next three days you ignored both of them, preferring to spend your days with Heleana. Whenever he asked about you, his mother would claim you didn’t wish for visitors and would rather stay in the company of your aunt. Aemond couldn’t deny that it stung, the only person he felt cared for him deeply, no longer wanting to spend time with him.

So he was overjoyed when, on the fourth day, you approached him as if nothing had ever happened, your expression light and smile bright as you held his hand.

“Where we going, uncle?” and his face fell, joy completely dissipating and giving way to sadness. 

You refused to call him by his previous nickname after that day, opting to refer to him only as ‘uncle’ going forward, and Aemond felt an overwhelming longing for things to go back to the way they were. He couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards Aegon for ruining what you had, for he felt it in his bones that things between the two of you would never truly be the same again.

2. Jason Lannister

You were bored out of your very mind at the moment. You had zoned out completely and could barely hear the incessant droning of Jason Lannister’s voice in the background as you reflected upon your life at the moment.

After that night in the bathtub where you shared your very first kiss with your uncle, you feared things between the two of you would change, and change for the worse. You didn’t want that, cherishing what you had with Aemond, even if it never went anywhere beyond friendship. But you needn’t have worried so much, for both of you seemed adamant in not ever speaking of that night ever again. It did sting a little if you were being honest with yourself, but you preferred that over ruining what you had.

So you were very much looking forward to spending a few hours with him before lunch when you were intercepted by Ser Jason Lannister.

“You look wonderful today, my princess.” the man had smiled down at you.

“Uh, thank you, my lord.” you answered, confused as to what he could possibly want.

“Why don’t you give me the pleasure of going on a stroll with me around the gardens?”

You didn’t know why he wanted to take a stroll with you of all people. And to be fair you didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in his presence. What you did want was to find Aemond and spend your day with him. But something, a strange sense of propriety and duty, held you back and you found yourself agreeing with his proposal.

That’s how you ended in the current situation, arm looped with his as he droned on and on and on about himself and his wealth and his castle and many other topics you couldn’t care less about. 

In your reverie you hadn’t even realized you had reached the training grounds until Aemond, who had just finished his training session with Ser Criston, smiled and waved at you as he was putting a wooden shield away. You were about to wave back when Ser Jason’s voice pulled your attention back to him once more.

“Well, princess, this is where we must part ways, unfortunately.” he gave a small bow of his head before letting go of your arm “The maesters say it is good to keep active, so I will go see if I can find a sparring partner.” 

You barely spared him a courtesy as Aemond was already by your side, ready to whisk you away.

“What was that all about?” he asked when you were already halfway to the library, a sense of unease pulling at his heartstrings once he remembered the way your arm was linked with the older lord.

“I do not know for sure.” you shrugged “I barely paid attention to what he was saying. Something about his riches I believe, we just went on a walk around the Keep.”

He laughed then, though it lacked any mirth, and his smile no longer reached his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You are so naïve, niece.” he explained.

“And why is that?” you questioned, feeling slightly offended.

“He wishes to court you.”

Your disgust at the thought must have been reflected very clearly upon your face, for he let out a full, genuine laugh this time.

“B-But- why?!” you tried collecting your thoughts, flabbergasted by such revelation “He is so…”

“Arrogant? Boring? Plain? All of the above?” Aemond completed for you, jesting at the situation.

“Old!” you whined and he laughed even harder at your expanse “I mean it! He is older than my own father!” you got closer to him to whisper conspiratorially at him “I heard he courted mother when she was looking for a husband, and he was already considered too old for her at the time.”

His laughter echoed around the halls, a few servants stopping to stare at the two of you, dumbfounded at the way you seemed to be able to bring the usually stoic prince out of his shell.

“But why does he wish to court me? Why not some other, older, lady?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, you are not just any lady, mandianna. You are a princess.” he explained, though his words seemed practiced, like they were reflections of not his own thoughts but those of other people “Any lord would jump at the opportunity to wed you. Chances are, in fact, that more suitors will start to flock around you for attention as you grow.”

“Ugh!” your shoulders slumped under the weight of your frustration “I do not wish to marry these lords!” you threw your hands up in exasperation “I just wish to spend my days with you and Helaena! Why can I not just marry you, then?!”

He felt a twinge too tight of happiness at the notion, but chose to ignore it and listen as you continued with your rant.

“If I were to marry one of these lords I would be miserable!”

His face softened in sympathy, remembering the conversation he overheard between his mother and grandsire regarding Aegon and Heleana’s betrothal. He felt pained for his sister, for he knew Aegon would not treat her how she deserved, and now he was seeing the same pattern with you.

“It is our duty, I fear, to find matches that best interest our House.” he spoke softly, but you turned towards him infuriated, and he feared he said the wrong thing.

“But I do not want to marry for duty!” his heart clenched in his chest as he noticed your eyes brimming with tears “I want a husband who loves and cares for me, like father and mother!”

He held back his tongue, knowing that speaking his mind about the kind of love between your parents, or lack thereof, would only upset you further. There was no denying that Ser Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra, just not in the way a husband should a wife.

The both of you stayed quiet for a moment, you simmering in your unsettled thoughts and him disappointed he couldn’t comfort you further, for this was something that was out of his hands.

“I would not mind, you know?” he heard you speak softly, turning his head to find you already looking at him.

“What?” 

“Marrying you.” you smiled softly at him “At least with you I would be content. I could see us being happy, even.”

Your words were a soothing balm over his heart, making it clench in his chest. He, too, did find the notion appealing, he could be happy with you, hells, you already made him happy.

“If it matters,” he spoke, trying to hide his true feelings behind a layer of nonchalance “I would not mind marrying you either.”

Your smile brightened then, and you bumped your shoulder with his.

“One can dream, right?” you giggled, before sighing once a servant came to fetch you to clean up before lunch, annoyed that your time with him had been cut short.

But as you walked away an idea formed in his mind, and with a determination he hadn’t felt in a really long time, he set off to find his half-sister.

3. Alicent Hightower

“No.” the Queen’s voice was harsh, and Aemond’s heart filled with dread as he peaked from his hiding place behind a pillar in her solar. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but his traitorous heart was too anxious to wait.

“Come on, your grace.” Rhaenyra answered, clearly annoyed, a hand placed on her very pregnant stomach and another on her lower back, as if standing here arguing was bringing her physical discomfort “The boy came to me, begging for her hand in marriage, all that was left was for him to fall to his knees. She herself has asked about the possibility of marrying him once. They are the perfect match!”

After your conversation earlier that day, Aemond had set off to find Rhaenyra and ask, no, beg her to allow him to court and eventually marry you. She had laughed in his face, and he tried not to show how her dismissal wounded his pride, until her face softened once she realized he was serious. 

“Please, sister.” he had even stooped so low as to address their familial bond, no matter how sour the word tasted in his mouth “Allow me to marry her. As her husband, she would want for nothing, I would protect her with my very life. And I could even… make her happy.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened then, for the first time realizing how much her little brother truly cared for her daughter. She had known the two of you were close, but the depth of your feelings for one another was only now being revealed to her. So she promised him she would speak with his own mother, and if Alicent agreed, then so would she. Aemond’s heart had plummeted then, knowing it would be a lot harder getting through his mother. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

But hope, it seemed, was not enough.

“No, and my answer is final.” Alicent moved about, trying to get Rhaenyra to leave and go bother someone else.  

“Alicent,” even though she had her back towards him, Aemond could imagine the tick in his mother’s eye at the informal way Rhaenyra was addressing her “All I am asking is that you consider it.”

“Why do you even think they would be a good match for one another?”

“Oh, by the Gods, Alicent! Can you not see how much they care for each other? The amount of time they spend together? They are practically glued at the hip at this point!” Rhaenyra threw her hands up in exasperation, and Aemond could see yourself so perfectly in your mother’s image “I will just ask my father then.” 

“Do not entertain that idea even for a moment!” Alicent’s voice became shrill as she glared at her former friend “What is this even about, hm? Are you so afraid that child” and she pointed at Rhaneyra’s prominent bump “will be born sooner or later bearing a striking resemblance to a certain commander of the City Watch once more that you resort to this… this scheming? To secure your line of succession, is that it?”

Ouch. That was low, even for Alicent’s standards. 

Rhaenyra’s face hardened as she stepped closer to the Queen, and for a moment fear gripped Aemond’s heart that he was about to witness his mom get battered.

“My brother, your own son” she spat out, genuinely angry now “begged me to let him marry my daughter when they are older. He promised me he would be a good husband, and for once in my life I am inclined to believe him.” her face softened then, raising her hands as if to grab Alicent’s but let them drop, thinking better than to try and touch her “Please, your grace. If there is still any care left in your heart for the love we once held for one another, please let me do this for him.” 

Aemond waited with bated breath for his mother to say something, anything. For once in his life he allowed himself to hope; he’d give up everything, even his dream of having a dragon of his own, just so she’d say yes. But the longer she went without saying anything, the deeper the cracks in his heart became.

“I will not be able to change your mind, will I?” Rhaenyra asked, her face contorting in sympathy, and when Alicent shook her head, breaking his heart in a thousand tiny little pieces in the process, she sighed “Then I feel sorry for Aemond. For both of them.”

As Rhaenyra left the Queen’s solar, Aemond took his leave as well, his heart shattered and a weight heavy on his stomach, regretting even going to his half-sister in the first place. It seemed you and he could never be after all.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen

Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the cold tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast, not caring even for a moment that you were only dressed in a nightgown. The news you had just heard from your father regarding your mother’s decision weighed heavily in your heart, and you had to share them with your uncle immediately. It couldn’t wait until the morrow, because come first light you might be gone.

“Hells, niece, will you ever learn to knock?” Aemond had turned towards you once you barged inside his chambers through the secret door, freezing once he noticed the state you were in. He was in front of you in a second, holding your cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

Even though his image was blurred by the tears that kept on rolling down your cheeks, barely noticing when he started collecting them with his thumbs, you could perfectly see the concern etched upon his features, and that was all it took for you to release the sobs you had been holding back, falling into his arms and hiccuping against his shoulder.

“Mandianna, what happened?!” he asked, holding your trembling figure in his arms and awkwardly trying to console you, running a gentle hand up and down your back. He had never seen you in such a state before, and he did not truly know how to help, much less without knowing the cause of your distress.

Once you had calmed down enough, your wails reduced to soft sniffles, you pulled back from him, running the back of your hand through your face to try and look more presentable.

“Mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone.”

Aemond’s breath hitched then.

“What?” he whispered, taking a step back from you.

“Father just told me. We are to leave King’s Landing come first light in the morrow.”

He felt his whole world crumbling before his very eyes then. He believed his heart could no longer face more damage, for it had already been broken when he overheard his mother and Rhaenyra’s conversation a sennight before, but he felt it shatter all over again at your words.

“C-Can you not stay behind?” With me?, he wanted to ask as his own eyes started filling with tears.

“I asked, but father says we are all to go. Me, Jace, Luke and baby Joffrey.”

His heart was beating widely in his chest, twisting painfully at the prospect of having to face everyday at court without you to keep him company, to keep him sane.

“We can write, of course, but-” you started, voice still trembling.

“It will not be the same.” he completed for you. 

It was true, wasn’t it? Things were about to change. On one hand he wouldn’t have to face the teasing from Jace and Luke, just Aegon, the main instigator. But on the other hand he would lose you, which was so much worse.

But then he noticed how your lower lip had started quivering again and realized he had put quite a lot of distance between the two of you. Not wanting you to jump to the wrong conclusions he crossed the space he had created and cupped your cheeks, looking sternly into your eyes.

“It does not change anything.” 

“Aemond-” you looked at him with sympathy and disbelief but he wasn’t having it.

“No. It does not change anything between us.” he spoke, determined “I will write to you every single day, and I expect a response every time. It will be like you never left. You can fly on dragonback and come visit. And when I get my dragon, I will visit you in return.”

Your smile, although tentative and still wobbly, returned to your face and he felt relief wash through him.

“You said so yourself, the lines promised me I will have a dragon.” he rejoiced at hearing you giggle “I have to make good use of them when time comes.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Something in your eye, glimmering with a blazing hope, compelled Aemond to lean forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took everything in.

“We will still be the same.” he felt you move, nodding against his head, never once moving away “We will still be us.” 

And even though, or perhaps exactly because neither of you could prevent the events that would unfold in the following weeks, both of you believed it with every ounce of your souls.

5. Aemond Targaryen 

“Aemond.” you knocked once more, your knuckles red and starting to ache from their incessant contact with the hard wood “Qȳbor, please open the door.”

He hadn’t left his temporary chambers in days, and no one would let you see him. After the whole ordeal with Vhagar and the fight between your two mothers in the grand hall at Driftmark after the loss of his eye, Aemond was whisked away to the quarters he was stationed at during his stay so the maesters could work properly on his wound and for him to sleep off the copious amounts of milk of the poppy he had been given.

Having talked to your brothers and cousins and understood what had gone down, you started feeling a tad guilty for the way you reacted to it. Yes, you were still hurt over what he had said about your brothers and, by extension, you. But at the same time you had let him go when he was the most vulnerable, he had just lost an eye for the Gods’ sake. And yet, even though you were hurting, so was he, he needed you and yet you let go and ran from him.

So you had decided you needed to talk. Perhaps, if you apologized for Luke’s actions and your own behavior, he’d offer an apology of his own, for calling your brothers bastards and for not extending Rhaena the courtesy of trying to claim her late mother’s dragon before him. Then, having cleared the air, you could move past this and go back to the way things were, with exchanged letters and promises of visiting one another. 

But your attempts seemed futile. There was always a guard stationed in front of his door, denying you entrance every single time you asked. Even though they were stern, hardened by their training, you tried using your authority as princess to order them to let you through, but to no such luck.

“Apologies, princess.” they would say, a smidge of sympathy and annoyance in their tone “The prince is to receive no visitors. Orders from her grace, the Queen.”

Panic was starting to grip at your heart, for your time was running out. Eventually, as soon as Aemond was recovered enough to travel, King Viserys and his family would leave Driftmark and return to King’s Landing. By then it would be too late. If you didn’t speak to him now, you would lose Aemond forever. That is, if you hadn’t already lost him for good. You had to speak to him, and it had to be soon, otherwise he’d leave and you would lose the one person you cared most in the world, who understood you like no one else, and would be left to drown in your own loneliness.

So you started scheming. You waited around the corridor of his chambers, waiting for rotation of the guard so you could catch his door unattended. You almost managed once, but Queen Alicent opened the door to exit the room, stopping dead in her tracks once she came face to face with you, about to knock.

“Your grace!” you were quick to recompose yourself “I came to visit the prince. I wish to see if he is faring well.”

You winced, instantly regretting your choice of words once her face hardened. Of course he wasn’t faring well, he just lost his bloody eye! 

“Aemond is not receiving any visitors.” her voice was harsh, and dread overcame you as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” she stopped but didn’t turn around to face you as you pleaded “I just- I just want to see him.”

When she did turn her features were laced with a combination of disdain and pity. It stirred something so deep inside you you almost recoiled and ran, but you decided to endure.

“He doesn’t wish to see anyone, princess.” she spoke, her tone stern yet motherly. But the implications of her words were not lost on you.

He doesn’t wish to see you.

It hurt, tears brimming in your eyes as you turned around and headed for your chambers.  

Did he truly not wish to see you? Or did he just wish for solitude, away from everyone? Could your friendship still be mended after both of you had been hurt like this? 

It didn’t matter, afterall, for you were determined to try until the very end.

That’s how you found yourself in front of his door, finally alone with him, having waited patiently for the guard’s rotation and making sure his mother wasn’t around. It was his final night in Driftmark before he was set to return to the capitol, and so this was your last, final chance to talk to him before that. 

There was a light flickering inside his chambers, visible from under the door, so you knew he likely wasn’t asleep, and when you had knocked for the first time, you heard a thud coming from inside, like he had bumped into some furniture, so you believed he had listened to you. But no matter how many times you knocked, he wouldn’t open it, nor give any indication that he was listening. 

“Aemond, please.” you tried again “Please, let us talk.”

The longer you went without an answer, the tighter the knot that was forming in your throat became. Growing desperate, you laid your forehead on the cold, damp wood.

“Please.” you breathed out, not even sure he could hear you now “Talk to me, Aemond. Please.”

For a moment, a short, passing moment, you heard a flutter of movement from inside the room. Your breath hitched, a tiny flicker of unadulterated hope burning in your chest that he had heard you and was coming to talk. But it was quickly snuffed out when you heard nothing else follow.

A deep ache took over your chest, like something had dug its claws in your heart and squeezed. The inevitability of it all, the looming sense of grief over something so close yet impossibly far, out of your grasp completely, clouded your mind and had your ears ringing.

“I am sorry.” you said, taking a step back and turning around to leave “For everything.”

As you walked away you couldn’t help but feel like a part of you was missing. For you had just lost him for good. Perhaps forever.

+1

As you brushed off your skirts, having been sat on the grass by the weirwood tree, you set off to find your mother, determination written across your features.

You nearly ran into Luke as you walked briskly, sending a thankful look to Rhaena as she helped you steady him.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Jace asked as he came up behind your brother at the same time you bypassed him and Baela and continued on your way. 

“To secure myself a husband!” you shouted over your shoulder, not even turning back around to address them. Now all that was left was to find your mother.

And search for her you did. It was imperative that you found her quickly, for you wanted to make sure you did this tonight. It had to be tonight. No one knew how much longer the King would live, and the moment he drew his final breath, a war would break out within your family. A war that would ravage all of the Seven Kingdoms. So you had to make sure that didn’t happen while your grandire was still alive and lucid enough to give you his full support.

But Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found. The Keep was huge and there was a probability that you were both on the move and simply never crossing paths. You even stumbled upon Helaena during your search as she tended to her youngest son, Maelor.

“Have you seen my mother, aunt?” you asked after a brief and sweet exchange, though you did not hug her like you would Baela and Rhaena, for you knew she did not like to be touched.

“I have not, niece.” she bounced baby Maelor in her arms as he cooed up at her “Why are you in such a haste to find her, if I might ask?”

“I have something of utmost importance to discuss with her.” you smirked as you added next, and by the glimmer in her eyes she understood the hidden meaning of your words “I believe I have found myself a suitable husband and must ask her to arrange our betrothal as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly then “So we might be celebrating tonight.”

To your surprise and confusion, her smile faltered just a bit, her eyes becoming unfocused, before she smiled brightly again.

“With a union forged in fire and blood, the dragon’s nest is put to rest.”

You dared not question her, for Helaena often spoke in riddles, even in your youth. Biding her farewell you went back to your task. You didn��t have to search long though, for you quite literally bumped into your mother and Daemon right as you were turning down the corridor from Helaena’s chambers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed as you helped Daemon steady a once again very pregnant Rhaenyra “There you are!”

“You were looking for me, darling?” she asked.

“Yes.” you cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders “I wish for a husband.”

That seemed to take both of them by surprise, their eyes widening.

“O-Oh!” she smiled then, still confused where this was coming from “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I wish to take Aemond as my husband.” 

“Darling.” her face softened in pity as Daemon scoffed “You know the Queen would never allow this union.”

“That’s not all, mother. I think I may have found a way neither she nor the Hand could refuse.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a curious glance with one another.

“Let us hear it then.” your step-father encouraged.

“I want Aemond as my husband.” you took a steadying breath, knowing you’d have to argue the next part “And I want him to be King.”

“Absolutely not!” was Daemon’s reaction, while your mother just looked… betrayed. And it broke your heart. You knew what she was thinking, she had just reaffirmed you as her heir, had to fight for it, and you now want to pass that off to someone else entirely?

“Please allow me to explain.”

“Why would you suggest such a thing?! To that cunt, of all people!” Daemon kept on raging, but his words were abruptly cut short as Rhaenyra raised her hand.

“Let her speak.” her tone was firm, and you knew you had to choose your next words carefully to plead your case.

“Word has come to me of a… plot against you as King Viserys’ heir.” her face twitched in anger for just a moment “The Queen and the Hand will try to instate Aegon as King once grandsire passes.”

“What is new?” Daemon laughed, incredulous.

“And the noble houses would back his claim.” you explained “Many will not recognize you as the legitimate heir-”

“But-” your mother tried cutting you off but you continued over her.

“-regardless of the oath they swore years ago. Simply because Aegon has a cock and you do not.” you hated how crass you sounded, but you had to get the point across “And then a bloody civil war would break out, for you would not let this go unpunished, am I wrong?” 

Rhaenyra pondered for a moment before nodding, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“A war between us, dragonlords, would absolutely decimate not only our House but also the realm. But a marriage alliance between me, your heir and future Queen, and my uncle might just make them give up on this quest.”

“Otto would never settle for his blood being just consort.” Daemon argued.

“That is why he would not be consort.” you smirked, the catch you were waiting to reveal slipping from your lips.

“You shouldn’t give up your claim and be consort either!” your mother exclaimed.

“I would not do such a thing. I would be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Both of them looked baffled.

“Now you have lost me.” she said.

“When the time comes, both me and Aemond would be crowned Queen and King, and we would rule together as equals. No consorts.”

Rhaenyra took a step back from surprise, and Daemon looked like he was told the realm’s funniest joke.

“You cannot be serious, tala!” he chuckled, but there was an undertone of disbelief to it.

“It could work.” your mother spoke to herself.

“Rhaenyra, you cannot be entertaining this ridiculous idea!” Daemon turned towards her then, wringing his hands as if to stop himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her “It is not tradition!”

“Fuck tradition!” you exclaimed a lot more harshly than you intended, and probably a lot harsher than it was appropriate. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough. 

“You being heir over Aegon already breaks tradition as it is. Like I said, many will not see you as legitimate. But even if they do, and you are able to rule, the same thing would happen to me and Jace. But will you make all the great houses swear another oath to you?” Rhaneyra understood where you were going with this “Having a husband to back me up as heir, to rule alongside me, would give me strength in my own claim. If you are already breaking traditions, what is one more, eh?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Daemon spoke lowly, and you noticed he was staring at someone “The walls have ears in this Keep.”

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure, and in a moment of panic, grabbed your mother’s hand and pulled her towards the temporary chambers you were housed in. You did not want Aemond to overhear what you had to say, fearful that should anyone hear about this ahead of time it would all crumble to shambles. As Daemon joined you two, shortly after, you continued. 

“Please, please mother! Think about it. It might be the only way.”

Rhaenyra was silent. While Daemon looked vexed, but made no further complaints, she looked deep in thought. You knew she knew you were right. She just had to see it for herself.

“It would be easier to convince them if we had the King’s approval. That is why we need to do this tonight, at supper.”

Daemon bristled but didn’t say anything. Your mother on the other hand agreed, even if she believed this was all very rushed.

“Would you be happy though?” she then asked, and it was your turn to be surprised “Marrying Aemond? After everything that has happened?”

You looked between her and Daemon, and for once in your life you were certain of what you wanted.

“Aemond has always been kind to me. Or most of the time, at least.” you shrugged “I believe, with due time, we could put our differences aside and rebuild what we once had. Perhaps even learn to love each other.”

Again, you meant. Learn to love each other again. At least in your case.

“Then it is settled.” she looked determined “We will pitch this proposition tonight.”

A wave of relief washed over you. This could work, genuinely actually work. Perhaps it didn’t have to end in bloodshed like you believed it would. Maybe your family could be whole again. And all of that at the cost of marrying the one you had longed for deeply in your heart once.

“He asked for your hand once, you know.” Rhaenyra broke you out of your trance, a soft smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing on a fond memory. Daemon had left at some point, leaving you both alone to share this conversation, too deep and personal for anyone else to hear, in private “Right before we left for Dragonstone.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the revelation. He had wished to marry you as well?

“He said he could make you happy. And I believed him.” she then looked at you, cupping your cheek as pride took over her smile “I believe it still.”

You grasped at her wrist, feeling warm at the love you could feel it emanating from her.

“If you believe you could be happy as well,” she continued “then you have my blessing. That is all I want.”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I do. I will be very happy.” 

She nodded then, pulling you into her arms. In the safety of your mother’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax. Your fate was yours to shape how you saw fit, and you intended to make the most of it.

And you would.

High Valyrian translations: - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - tala - daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves