#like yes the world is on fire but its also so beautiful

[imaginaryfriendwithbenefits]

do you ever just think about how amazing it is to, like, exist? like, holy shit. i am a person and i exist in a world that contains, like, libraries and rollercoasters and sunsets and swings and fanfiction and tea and oceans and parks where i can literally just sit on the grass and watch other people's dogs playing for hours. i know there's a lot of stuff out there about "toxic positivity" or whatever and i do understand but also like i am so relentlessly, obnoxiously in love with being alive and i think you should be too, if you can.

[lizzyiii]

Hello, I would like to make an obscene yandere request to Aemond Targaryen for a cousin who is a Helen of Troy, she never met her cousins ​​and Gwayne locked her in the lighthouse because the children in Antigua have already declared duels and fights for her, please

“Alexa play Angel by Massive Attack.”

A Beauty Too Tempting

pairing | aemond x cousin!reader word count | 5.4k summary | when aemond targaryen learns of his cousin—a beauty so captivating that men are willing to die for you—he becomes dangerously obsessed, determined to claim you for himself. tags | 18+ MDNI! smut, p in v, slight dubcon, fingering, oral sex (f) receiving, possessive sex, rough sex, virginity kink, breeding kink, obsession, dirty talk, no description for reader, creampie, religious guilt, guys this was crazzzyyy, yandere aemond, delusional aemond, obsessive aemond. a/n | this was such an interesting and creative prompt, damnnnn. also I think this might be the best smut I've ever written. KEEP BOTH HANDS ON THE PHONE (NOT PROOFREAD)

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond had finally ascended.

His reckless, wine-soaked brother was a shadow of the past, burnt and broken beyond repair. Though the Seven Kingdoms still called him “Prince Regent,” Aemond knew he held the true power of a king—and wielded the might of a dragon unmatched in all the realm.

He was Prince Regent, yes, but also the rider of Vhagar, the Queen of Dragons, the slayer of Daemon Targaryen, the butcher of his treacherous half-sister and her rabble of bastards.

At God’s Eye, he had cast Daemon down, wresting from him the title of warrior to which he clung so stubbornly. And when Alys Strong’s deceit led him astray, she too had met the edge of his blade, her charms and false promises extinguished in the cold stone of Harrenhal’s dungeons. Now, what was left of his family was but the bones of the house.

Only his mother and his niece remained, the ones bound by duty and blood. Helaena, broken by grief and driven mad with sorrow, had thrown herself from her chamber balcony, finding an end that her shattered mind had long sought. Aegon, the crown’s fool, lay in a stupor of smoke and agony, burned and nearly lifeless after his fall from Moondancer’s flames.

But Aemond ruled now—his alone was the realm’s rightful power. The Seven Kingdoms were his to bend, as was his every desire. He had broken his betrothal to the Baratheon girl without a second thought; a warlord and dragonrider of his stature deserved a bride worthy of his legend. He was the last dragon of House Targaryen, and his queen would be a beauty revered, one whose grace and purity might rival the Maiden herself.

And that was when Aemond first heard of you.

Fleeting whispers had reached him from Oldtown, speaking of his uncle Gwayne’s daughter—a maiden so beautiful that men spoke of you as if you were touched by the gods. Tales claimed you had been cloistered away in the Watchtower’s highest chamber, veiled to protect the eyes and sanity of any man who caught sight of you.

There, concealed behind shadows and stone, you were kept far from the reach of suitors who risked life and honor in duels, each vying for even a single glimpse of your face.

Your father, Ser Gwayne Hightower, had fallen in the fires of the Dance, and your mother had died bearing you, leaving you alone in that desolate tower—an unclaimed jewel, hidden and waiting.

The thought stirred something fierce within Aemond. He would go to you, he decided. He would see this beauty so lauded, this Hightower daughter untouched by the world’s corruptions, and he would decide if you were worthy to become his Queen, his Targaryen bride. For if your beauty proved true, you would belong to him alone, bound by devotion and a loyalty owed only to the dragon and its rider.

After landing Vhagar just outside Oldtown, Aemond took a horse into the city, riding with the air of a conqueror. But even he was taken aback by the scene awaiting him. High walls surrounded the Watchtower of House Hightower, fortified and stern, yet it was the gathering outside that seized his attention.

Hundreds of men crowded the courtyard and spilled into the streets, shouting, some nearly brawling as they jostled against one another. Their voices rose in a fervent cacophony, names and cries echoing like a battle chant.

Aemond’s gaze swept over them with disdain. Fools, all of them, clamoring over the mere hope of being in your presence. As he approached the Tower’s gates, the guards lowered their spears and bowed their heads, recognizing the rider of Vhagar, the One-Eyed Prince who now held the realm in his grip.

They opened the gates without question, allowing him through to the Tower’s base, where a young servant girl waited nervously.

She kept her eyes down as she led him up the spiraling stairway to the highest chamber. But Aemond’s curiosity simmered, and his tone was sharp when he finally spoke. “Who are these men gathered outside? What madness drives them to swarm like starving wolves?”

The servant’s face went pale, but she dared to glance up briefly, voice trembling. “They’re suitors, my prince…men from every corner of the realm. Many have traveled from the Reach and the Riverlands, even as far as Dorne and the North, all to seek my lady’s hand.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, a dark satisfaction curling at the edge of his lips. While the Dance Of Dragons had gone on, you had become something of a legend—a prize for fools and hopeful knights. But you were not for them.

“Let them scream themselves hoarse,” he murmured coldly, mostly to himself, as they reached the final stretch of the climb. His voice softened, though the weight of his words was fierce. “By nightfall, they will know she belongs to me alone.”

The servant kept her gaze down, fearful of the silent promises in his tone. They finally reached the door to the high chamber, and with a deep breath, she pushed it open, bowing as he strode past her.

As Aemond stepped inside, the air was thick with expectation, and he knew: he would let none of those suitors have you—not while he still breathed.

A figure stood near the narrow window, framed by the dim light filtering through the high stone walls. Draped in a gown as pale as starlight, a delicate veil fell over your hair and face, obscuring your features with an ethereal softness.

You looked less like a woman of flesh and blood, more like some forgotten goddess cast down from the heavens, your beauty hidden behind gauze and shadow. Almost nervously, the servant girl who had led Aemond withdrew, sparing one last, uncertain glance before closing the heavy door, leaving him alone with the lady in white.

The room was silent but for the faint rustle of fabric as the veiled woman turned, your movements graceful yet guarded. You saw him—a tall, imposing figure shrouded in the black and crimson of House Targaryen, his silver hair gleaming like the steel at his hip.

Though your vision was blurred by the veil, there was no mistaking him. Even in the isolated walls of your tower, you had heard tales of him, whispered rumors that crept into your dreams. Aemond Targaryen—the One-Eyed Kinslayer, the dragonrider who had torn through his own blood, leaving most of House Targaryen ashes in his wake.

A shiver coursed through you as you lowered your head, barely daring to meet his single, penetrating gaze. You bent your head respectfully and murmured, “Your grace.”

At the sound of your voice—soft and lilting, as if it had drifted down from the heavens—Aemond’s breath hitched, and he paused, his gaze never wavering. You sounded like the very embodiment of the myths that had reached him, a voice so pure it defied the violence that had carved his path to you.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, each one bringing him closer to the veiled creature he had come to claim. “I am not only your Prince Regent,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “I am your kin as well.”

You nodded, your lashes fluttering beneath the veil. “Of course…cousin,” you replied shyly, your voice no more than a murmur, though it reached him clearly in the silence of the chamber.

Aemond’s lips curved, a hint of satisfaction flickering across his face as he closed the distance between you. “You must know,” he continued, his tone possessive yet calm, “that I have not come all this way merely out of kinship. You are spoken of as if you were a queen in waiting…your beauty, your grace. Men would kill for a single look upon your face.”

Your cheeks warmed beneath the veil, though you dared not lift your head. The idea of such fierce, consuming attention unsettled you, yet you could not deny the pull he exerted on your senses—a dark, magnetic power that seemed to draw you closer, even as your instinct told you to step back.

“And now,” Aemond murmured, lifting a hand toward you, fingers ghosting over the edge of your veil, “it is I who have come to see if these tales hold truth. To decide if you are worthy…to stand beside me as my queen.” He let the words hang in the air, laden with meaning, with possession.

Beneath the veil, your lips parted, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The One-Eyed Prince had not come to court or woo you like the other men clamoring below; he had come to claim you, with a certainty that brooked no refusal.

“Tell me, cousin,” he whispered, his tone heavy with dark intent, a veiled promise lying beneath each word. “Would you defy me if I named you mine?”

He drew closer, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a shiver through you as your heart hammered against your ribs. The weight of his claim felt as tangible as the stone walls around you, and in that instant, you knew defiance was a luxury that held no place here.

Before you could gather the breath to respond, Aemond’s hand rose toward your veil, his fingertips hovering just above its delicate fabric. A sense of desperation seized you, and your voice broke through the silence, raw and pleading. “Don’t! Please… I only wish to spare you.”

Aemond’s lips curved in a faint, humorless chuckle, his eye gleaming with something far more dangerous than mere amusement. “Spare me?” he murmured, as though the very idea amused him.

“You misunderstand, cousin. I do not seek to be saved.” His voice softened, yet the iron in his tone was unmistakable. “I seek only to behold my future wife.”

Your heart raced, every instinct urging you to step back, but your body seemed to betray you, rooted to the spot as Aemond reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of your veil. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, casting the thin fabric away and laying bare the face that had haunted his imagination.

The moment the veil fell, silence claimed the room, broken only by Aemond’s sharp intake of breath. His gaze devoured each feature of your face, sweeping over you with an intensity that bordered on reverence, as if he were drinking in the sight of a rare and coveted treasure.

He exhaled slowly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as his fingers traced a line along your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender. “Beautiful…” he breathed, his voice thick with awe and something deeper, something darker. “Far more than any tale could capture. You are… a vision.”

A flicker of fear mingled with the warmth on your cheeks, and you dared to lift your gaze to his, the intensity of his stare almost unbearable. He studied you, and you sensed it was not mere admiration that darkened his eye, but hunger—a need so consuming it seemed to radiate from him.

“From this day forward,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw, “you are mine. And I… I will allow no one, not even the gods, to take you from me.”

Your breath caught as Aemond’s fingers ghosted over your skin, sparking a fire that seemed to radiate through every inch of you. For a fleeting moment, your eyelids fluttered closed, helplessly savoring the sensation. But reality, sharp and undeniable, tore them open again, reminding you where you stood—and with whom.

“C-Cousin, please…” you murmured, your voice trembling as your hands pressed against the hard plane of his chest, a fragile attempt to create space. “This… this cannot be. You should not…”

The words stumbled from your lips, half-hearted at best, even as your body betrayed you, arching subtly toward him, drawn like steel to a magnet. A flush of warmth rose beneath your skin, pooling in your cheeks, and beneath the thin fabric of your gown, your nipples peaked, aching under his gaze. The rush of sensations nearly overwhelmed you, each one more intoxicating than the last.

Aemond’s lips curved in a knowing, wicked smile, his eye gleaming as he took in your struggle, your futile attempts at resistance. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, so close that his breath mingled with yours, warm and heady.

“Wrong?” he murmured, his voice a dark, velvet caress, each syllable dripping with unrestrained desire. “There is no wrong between us, cousin. Only what was always meant to be…only fate and desire.”

Your heart raced, pounding against his chest, each beat echoing the dangerous thrill of his words. His hand slipped to the nape of your neck, his touch firm and possessive, as though he could bind you to him with that single gesture. He tilted your head ever so slightly, his mouth hovering just above yours, his gaze burning with intent.

“We are bound by blood,” he whispered, his words low and fervent, “by something far stronger than any foolish notion of right or wrong.” His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, a featherlight touch that set your skin alight. “Do you not feel it, the way I do?”

You barely managed a nod, your mind clouded by the closeness, by the undeniable pull of him. With a fluid, almost predatory grace, Aemond’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, so close you could feel every contour of his lean frame pressing into yours.

His chest was a wall of heat, solid beneath your touch, and your breath hitched as you became all too aware of the hardness pressing insistently against your belly.

“Let me guide you,” he whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm and laced with promise, “to pleasures beyond the realm of mortal imagination.” His voice was low, dark, each word dripping with seduction as he continued, “Yield to me, and I shall make you mine in ways the world could scarcely comprehend.”

Every syllable curled around you, dissolving your remaining resistance like morning mist. Against all sense, your body softened, your resolve unraveling beneath his spell. Aemond’s words, woven with desire and power, coaxed you toward surrender. You melted against him, instinctively seeking the warmth he offered, your heart racing as his grip on you tightened possessively.

“Cousin…” you whispered, barely a breath, a mingling of plea and prayer.

Aemond’s lips curved, and he let out a soft, almost condescending click of his tongue, a smirk flickering in his eye. “I ask for so little,” he said, his tone deceptively light before his voice softened, becoming tender, almost reverent.

“Simply allow me to reign over you, to be the master of your heart and soul. Give me your loyalty, your love, your fear… let me own you in spirit and in flesh. Do that,” he murmured, his mouth grazing your jawline, “and I will serve you, worship you, slave to your every desire.”

A tremor ran through you as his hand drifted lower, fingers grazing the swell of your breast. Your nipple pebbled instantly, a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core. You gasped, your hips involuntarily rolling against his straining erection.

“Please... ” you whimpered, your resistance breaking in the face of such carnal temptation. ”I-I am a maiden, a child of the Seven.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Aemond's chest as he felt your delicate form yield to his touch, your body betraying its innate desire despite your protests. His fingers curled around the plump mound of your breast, kneading the soft flesh through the thin fabric of your gown.

“Child no longer,” he rasped, his thumb circling your aching nipple, coaxing it to an even harder peak. ”Maidenhood ends today, and a woman shall be born.”

With a swift tug, he ripped the laces of the front of your gown, exposing the swells of your breasts to his hungry gaze. He palmed them roughly, thumbs teasing the stiff peaks as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering the sweetness within with his tongue.

"Mine," he growled against your lips, his hands roaming your body possessively

Your cry of shock morphed into a moan of ecstasy as Aemond's mouth ravaged yours, his dominant presence swallowing your very essence. The rough handling of your breasts sent sparks of delight coursing through your veins, your nipples throbbing in time with the pounding of your heart.

"No...no," you breathed against his lips, the words tumbling out unbidden. "This is wrong... this is sinful."

Ignoring your feeble protests, Aemond continued to explore your body with unrestrained lust. His hands roamed freely over your curves, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence usually reserved for sacred texts.

“Sinful indeed,” his voice was a husky purr against your lips. “Yet how sweetly addictive it tastes.”

His hands trailed lower, bunching your skirts to your waist to find the damp curls at the apex of your thighs. He groaned at the wetness he found there, a testament to your body's readiness for him.

“Such a delectable little cunt...” he whispered, his fingers slipping between your folds to test your readiness.

Your head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat as Aemond's skilled fingers delved deeper, stroking your slickened flesh with a confident touch. A shudder rippled through you, your hips canting upwards in desperate pursuit of more.

“P-please...” you gasped, your voice trembling with devastation. “I...I've never...”

Aemond's knowing smirk only heightened your mortification, yet it couldn't quell the inferno building inside you. Your body was aflame, craving the release only he could provide.

“I'm afraid...” you murmured though your eyes were glazed with desire.

Aemond's eye gleamed with triumph as he watched you squirm under his touch, your innocence and inexperience only fueling his desire. He pressed a finger inside you, feeling your tight walls clench around the invading digit.

“Fear not, sweet cousin,” he cooed, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “I will be gentle... at first.”

He pumped his finger slowly, savoring the exquisite sensation of your virgin passage yielding to his touch. His thumb circled your pearl, applying just enough pressure to send jolts of pleasure racing through your nerves.

“You're doing wonderfully,” he praised, his free hand sliding up your thigh to grip your hip firmly. “Now, let's see if we can't coax out that pretty little scream, hmm?”

Your mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the onslaught of sensations assaulting your senses. Aemond's fingers moved within you with a practiced ease, each thrust and twist sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“N-no...stop!” you managed to choke out, even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. “It's too much!”

Aemond's grin widened, his eye flashing with dark amusement at your futile attempts to resist. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more.

“Foolish girl,” he chided, his tone dripping with condescension. ”You crave this, every bit of it. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind doesn't.”

He seized your wrists, pinning them above your head against the window as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His hot breath fanned across your cheeks, carrying the scent of smoke and masculine musk.

“Now, be a good little maiden and spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding. “Let me taste you.”

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your body thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration as Aemond's dominance asserted itself. Despite your reservations, a traitorous part of you yearned for the promised pleasure, your core clenching in anticipation.

"N-no...I won't...” you stammered, even as your thighs trembled, betraying your resolve. Aemond's grip on your wrists tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he forced you to submit.

“Please...” the word escaped your lips before you could stop it, a plea for mercy that sounded suspiciously like a plea for more, though confusion filled you, ”Why would you wish to taste me?”

Aemond's gaze raked over your trembling form, drinking in every quiver and gasp with sadistic delight. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his words dripping with dark promise.

"Because, my dear cousin," he purred, "I want to devour every inch of you until you forget your own name. Until all you know is my touch, my taste, my possession."

With a wicked grin, he released your wrists, only to grab your waist and throw you down upon your bed. You had no time to react before he settled between your legs, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart as he lowered his head, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

Your heart raced, pounding in your ears as Aemond's words painted a vivid picture of degradation and desire. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy as he positioned himself between your spread thighs.

“And then, once I've had my fill,” he continued, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your slit, “I'll make you beg for more.”

“No...please...” your protests dissolved into a whimper as his tongue made contact with your aching sex, the wet heat of it sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Aemond chuckled darkly at your feeble attempts to resist, the vibrations of his laughter sending shivers through your core. He increased the pressure of his tongue, lapping at your slick folds with relish, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“It's too much...I c-can't take it...” even as you spoke, your hips bucked upward, seeking more of that intoxicating sensation. Your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer, to grind yourself against his questing mouth.

“You lie, sweet cousin,” he murmured against your flesh, his voice muffled but unmistakable. “You crave this, crave me. Your body sings for me, begs for my touch.”

He sucked gently on your pearl, the suction pulling a sharp cry from your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your cunt, his skillful tongue driving you closer to the edge with each passing moment.

“Release for me,” he commanded, his eye locking onto yours, burning with an intense, possessive hunger. “Let go and give me everything.”

Your entire being was consumed by the inferno of pleasure that Aemond ignited within you. His words, his touch, his very presence overwhelmed your senses until nothing existed beyond the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter in your core.

“Ahh...oh gods...Aemond!” your cries echoed off the stone walls as you said his name for the first time and he pushed you relentlessly towards your peak. Your back arched off the bed, your nails raking down his scalp as you held him close, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“Yes...yes! Don't stop...please don't stop...” you babbled incoherently, lost to the maelstrom of sensation. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, you shattered, your release ripping through you with the force of a tidal wave.

As your climax crashed over you, Aemond drank in your essence, reveling in the taste of your release. He lapped at your spasming cunt, prolonging your pleasure until you finally went limp beneath him, panting and dazed.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he gazed up at your flushed face. He crawled up your body, claiming your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to plunder the sweetness of your mouth.

“Now, let us see how well you respond to other pleasures,” he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding down to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple into a stiff peak. “We have only just begun to explore the depths of your devotion.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the intensity of what had just transpired. Aemond's control over your body was absolute, leaving you weak and pliant in his grasp. Yet even as you trembled with aftershocks of pleasure, a thrill of anticipation coursed through you at his words.

“Other pleasure?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the fear that lingered, a spark of curiosity ignited within you, drawing you deeper into the unknown realm Aemond promised to show you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath as he fondled them. The sensation of his calloused palm against your tender flesh sent jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core, making you ache for more.

Aemond's smile was a wicked curve of his lips as he watched your reaction, delighting in the way your body responded to his touch.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I speak of the exquisite agonies of pleasure, cousin. The kind that make you scream and beg for mercy even as you crave more. The sort that leave you trembling and spent, yet yearning for the next touch, the next thrust...”

His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the juncture of your thighs before dipping into your drenched folds. He circled your sensitive pearl, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Shall I show you these delights, Beloved? Shall I push you to the very brink of madness and back again, all for my own entertainment?”

A shiver ran down your spine at Aemond's words, a delicious chill that mixed with the heat building inside you. His touch was both gentle and ruthless, coaxing out responses you didn't know you possessed. Your hips bucked involuntarily as he stroked your most intimate places, seeking more friction and relief.

“Y-yes please...” you breathed, the word torn from you on a moan. Your hands came up to tangle in his long silver hair, holding him close as if to anchor yourself against the storm of sensations he unleashed.

Aemond's fingers danced across your sensitive flesh, pushing you higher and higher until you teetered on the edge of another release. Your vision blurred, your lungs burned for air, and still he teased, denying you the release you craved.

“Please...I need more,” you whined.

Aemond chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending vibrations through your quivering form. He released your pearl, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh before gripping your hip possessively.

“More, hmm?”

He leaned back, his piercing gaze drinking in every flush of color on your skin, every hitch of your breath. “Very well, cousin. Let us see how you fare against my cock.”

With a swift motion, he shed his trousers, freeing his rigid length. It stood proud and unyielding, the tip already glistening with pearly wetness. Aemond grasped your ankles, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself between them.

Your eyes widened as Aemond revealed his manhood, the sight of it making your mouth go dry. The size and shape were intimidating, but a part of you thrilled at the prospect of being stretched so completely. You nodded, unable to find your voice as he spread your legs wider, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

“Are you ready to be filled, to be claimed in the most primal way possible?” He asked, his voice a husky growl.

"Yes...” you managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Aemond's grip on your ankles tightened as he aligned himself with your entrance. The head of his cock pressed against your slick folds, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for the intrusion.

“Please don't hurt me,” you whispered, your voice tinged with desperation.

Aemond's expression softened slightly at your plea, though the intent in his eye remained unchanged - a fierce, almost feral hunger. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “I would never harm you, sweetling," he paused, "at least not unless you begged me to."

With that, he surged forward, his thick cock driving into your welcoming heat in one powerful stroke. Your cry echoed through the chamber as you were split open around him, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.

“Fuck, you're tight,” he groaned, pausing for a moment to let her adjust. His hips flexed, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging back in, setting a relentless pace. So fucking perfect...

A sharp cry tore from your throat as Aemond's massive cock impaled you, the sudden invasion sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your core. You arched your back, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move within you, each thrust driving deeper and harder than the last.

"Gods...it's too much..." you panted, struggling to breathe through the intensity of the sensation. “You're so big...”

Despite the discomfort, your body seemed to mold itself to his, craving the stretch and fullness he provided. Your inner walls clenched around him, trying to draw him in even further.

“More...give me more...” you whimpered, your hips rising to meet his punishing rhythm.

Aemond grunted in satisfaction at your wanton pleas, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by your keening cries.

“That's it, take it all,” he growled, his hand fisting in your hair as he angled your head back. “Scream for me, let everyone hear how thoroughly I'm claiming you.”

His free hand slid between your joined bodies, finding your swollen pearl and rubbing mercilessly. The dual stimulation had you writhing beneath him, your body wound tighter than a bowstring.

"Come for me, Beloved,” Aemond demanded, his voice rough with lust. “Come on my cock like the desperate little maiden you are.”

The words fell from Aemond's lips like honeyed poison, stoking the flames of your desire until they consumed you whole. Your release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision blurring at the edges as ecstasy coursed through your veins.

“Yes! Oh gods, yes!” you screamed, your voice echoing off the stone walls.

Your inner muscles spasmed wildly around Aemond's pistoning cock, milking him for all he was worth. The pressure building at the base of your spine reached a fever pitch before exploding outward in a burst of pure bliss.

“Aemond!” your name was a ragged gasp as you convulsed beneath him, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you.

Aemond threw his head back with a triumphant roar as your orgasm triggered his own. His cock pulsed inside you, spilling his hot seed deep into your clencing cunt. Each jet seemed to last an eternity, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

“Take it all,” he snarled, grinding his pelvis against yours to ensure every drop was absorbed by your eager flesh. “You're mine now, forever and always.”

As the final spurts subsided, Aemond collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily as he savored the aftermath of their coupling.

When Aemond's release flooded your womb, you felt a sense of profound completion wash over you. Your body went limp beneath him, utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

“Yours...” you echoed softly, the word falling from your kiss-swollen lips in a daze. “Forever and always...”

As exhaustion tugged at you, your limbs grew heavy, and the events of the day settled over you like a warm, thick blanket. Nestled in Aemond’s arms, you felt a strange comfort, a warmth you’d scarcely known, drawing you closer into his embrace as sleep beckoned. The solid strength of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all that held you tethered as your eyes drifted shut.

“Rest now, my love,” he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rasp, laced with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his intentions. “We have much to discuss when you’ve recovered.”

Even as you slipped into the gentle embrace of sleep, Aemond remained vigilant, his gaze never leaving you. His mind churned with plans and possibilities, already anticipating the obstacles that lay ahead. He knew that securing his claim upon you—upon both of you—would not come easily.

His arm tightened around you, a silent vow to protect, to possess, to keep you from any force that might try to tear you from him. Whatever it took, no matter the cost, you would remain his. He would allow no other fate.

A faint, triumphant smile touched his lips as he studied your sleeping face, taking in the softness of your features, the way your hair curled against your cheek. Tonight, he would let himself bask in the satisfaction of knowing you were his, that he had claimed your body and heart as surely as he had marked it.

“Sleep well, my queen,” he whispered, reaching out to brush a stray curl from your brow with uncharacteristic gentleness. His thumb lingered a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek, committing every detail to memory.

“Tomorrow, I take you to your new home.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[astroyongie]

My Opinion On The Moon Signs and Placements 

Note: the venus placements will be next <33 hope you guys like it, also take it lightly its just my opinion on the placements and not necessarily the true

Aries Moon: I often have a hard time reading Aries moons because they have such an intense way of communicating their emotions. they are either all in or all out and there isn't mid terms with them. Aries' moon is fierce, their instinct tingles. Some people see them as selfish people.  

Taurus Moon: they are so much more than what meets the eye. They tend to be pretty rational with what happens around them, yet they can be quite intuitive as well despite not being a water sign. They are the type to hide their emotions so well, but also to run away from them. They are often emotionally stable but their ability to hold grudges is.. scary

Gemini Moon: There’s this stereotype that gemini moods are emotional wrecks because we never know how they are feeling and also because they exhibit huge emotional swings depending on their environment and people they are with. The true is they don't understand what they feel deep down so they are often just as confused  

Cancer Moon: Again they have this stereotype that they are super sensible, emotional and super manipulators. Although in some cases this can be true, cancer moon is also someone that has that protective fire in them, they have such a huge protective instinct. They are super pessimists tho

Leo Moon: They aren’t as egocentric as one can think. Yes, they will put themselves first in certain situations but that’s because people tend to also take their loyalty and their warmth for granted. They are a little dramatic when they are feeling stuff.  

Virgo Moon: Virgo moons often have a sharp instinct, they have a good memory as well and they always try to process their emotions through rationalizing them, which often hurts because they don't allow their emotions to be processed. They fear losing control over what they feel. 

Libra Moon: Their head is a big mess, they never know who to trust, what to feel and how to understand their feelings. often these placement gets co dependent on other people for their emotions because they kind are unable to live by themselves with their own heads 

Scorpio Moon: Of course that they are intense, they feel things deeply and with all its rawness. Their intuition is high, they can read people so well and they do have empathetic feelings toward others. When they are in love, it's so beautiful but the trust issues of this placement is no joke 

Sagittarius Moon: My opinion on them might be a little biased but gosh, they are so intense, in a way that their emotions are so outbrusting. They can be the happiest person and 5 minutes later they are shifting and it's impulsive and reckless and they have no control over what they are feeling. they have short memory too in my opinion. .

Capricorn Moon: Like most earth placements, Capricorn moons are scared to not be in control of what they feel. They are clever, they are intuitive to a certain point but they are way too cautious and don't allow their emotions to be fully processed. Sometimes they like sensitivity or lack understanding toward other people’s feelings because they see it as dramatism. 

Aquarius Moon: Please someone enlighten me about them because I swear I don't understand them. they way of feeling, they way they expose things, they way they remember things. their brain, their emotional output is not conventional and is different from other people,which often makes them misunderstood. but their lack of empathy and their lack of seeing things through other perceptions is also the cause. 

Pisces Moon: Yes, another stereotype that they are overly sensitive and that they are cry babies. but their intuition is huge, their emotional sponge is hard to control.yet they can also be the most cold placements ever. if they don't want to feel, they won’t. their escapism ability is out of this world 

Moon in the 1st House: Usually they are seen as people that are caregivers. They are often leaned on due to their ability to be able to understand others and always find solutions when it comes to solving issues. They have a very soft personality and they are reliable yet people often take advantage of them because they can’t say no. they have that dreamy beauty in them as well  

Moon in the 2nd House: Their whole emotional being depends on how they live their life, on how comfortable they are and how much of the dream life they can live. More often, people with this placement tend to want luxury in their life and they can be an emotional wreck when their values, their possessions or their goals are shattered by life. 

Moon in the 3rd House: these people are super smart, like socially and emotionally smart. They make such good teachers, therapists but also manipulators because they are able to use people’s strengths and weaknesses to their own expenses but also to help others. They overthink a lot though, and they tend to suffer a lot from their own emotional health. 

Moon in the 4th House: They put a lot of importance in what they consider to be their roots, their culture and their family. They are often family oriented, they love kids and kids love them. some of them can even have that superpower of knowing when someone is pregnant! Some also have taken since young age the role of parent or responsibility in their household 

Moon in the 5th House: The creativity that they have is unmatched, the talent that they have for arts, for self expression through their body and their hobbies is amazing. definitely a good placement when one wants to pursue a career in the arts related businesses and professions. These people also have a very funny sense of humor, and they are hopeless romantics. 

Moon in the 6th House: This placement can be tricky because it can make someone super emotional, to struggle a lot with their health in general (both emotional and physical). Yet these people also have a good sense in business and they can easily get the career of their dreams just by the power of manifestation. 

Moon in the 7th House: They are hopeless romantics as well, they live for their love life, they live for romance, for relationships. People with these placements often tend to be unable to stay alone for a long time and not having someone to love is something that causes them inner turmoil and pain. they have such a good instinct tho, and their love truly is pure 

Moon in the 8th House: their emotional intuition is no joke, these people are not only gifted when it comes to the occult and the spiritual world, some can also have the power to predict changes, shifts and even physical death due to their strong and sharp sense of intuition. They are super emotional as well and often tend to suffer from that. They can’t let go of past feelings

Moon in the 9th House: They are so smart, a lot of people with this placement have a photographic memory, like they are able to remember every single detail. They are people who often feel either connected with their religion and practice, or they are connected with their education, their traditions and overall values. they can have such impactful, deep conversions as well due to the way they are passionate about these things. 

Moon in the 10th House: Their whole well being is only based on one thing: their status and their career. Nothing much is important to them other than what they are able to bring into life for themselves. some people might think that they are arrogant or lack emotional maturity, but this placement is actually a placement that demands to be stable in their overall life, in order to be able to be healthy emotionally 

Moon in the 11th House: Their friendships are super important to them, but so is their social reputation, their emotional well being is often tied with how well they are perceived by others. They want to be seen as reliable and cool, for some even popular. They easily make friends but they get attached quickly as well. they have a strong manifestation 

Moon in the 12th House: Similarly to the 6th house, people with this placement can have some struggles with their emotions. yet they can also be so damn intuitive and have gifts when it comes to the spiritual world and the sensing of the spiritual world. Yet these people are also seen as weird by others and because of that they can feel lonely all their life. they self sabotage themselves because of that 

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACES

touya todoroki x f! reader

you love him, so fuck everyone else.

smut! you are responsible for what you read

inspired by but daddy i love him

at first, touya was worried.

he’s dark, he’s burning blue, he’s evil. he’s everything wrong with the world, everything corrupt as a resulr of a broken childhood. he’s burning with revenge at the seems- literally. he’s scary, and dangerous, and everything you’re not.

he can’t measure up to you. to your glow, how you paint his deep blue golden. you’re kind and gentle, the kind of flower that no one dared to pick out of fear of diminishing its beauty. as cruel as he may be, he hesitates to take that away from you.

at first.

now, he’s got your knees almost touching your ears, pounding his cock in and out of you for what’s probably been hours.

what a mess.

its crazy, but also the one you want. how could you not, seeing the way he’s sending mind-numbing pleasure coursing throughout your entire body. you can barely form any coherent sentences, letting him ravage you entirely. he’s salivating just seeing you, the way your tits bounce with every thrust, or how you squeeze around him when he whispers filthy things into your ear.

“fuck, you take me so well doll. you gonna let me ruin you, yeah?” he groans, landing a playful smack to the side of your hips. “say my name again.”

“touya!” you cry out. he smirks, seeing how absolutely he, and only he can get you.

if bystanders could only see their faces, knowing that the sweetest person on the planet fell in love with someone like touya todoroki.

he’s chaos and he’s revelry, lips pressing against your neck in a tender yet passion display of love. he starts with a kiss, before nipping at your skin and marking you. his cold tongue ring feels heavenly.

he’s relentless in his pace, the noises of sex filling the room as he has his way with you. he looks beautiful right now, scars and all as your nipples slide over his pecs over and over again.

perhaps your favourite part of him are his bedroom eyes. the way those sapphires lazily drink in your pleasure-filled form, wanting more and more. he pressings himself against your further, pulling out all the way before slamming back into you. you swear you can feel his tip up against your god damn womb.

if anyone else saw your relationship, they’d tell touya to stay away from you. they’d pull you away, cage you in a feeble attempt at protecting your light. they’d protest and sabotage what you have, sanctimoniously performing soliloquies you’d never see.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum babygirl. want me to fill you uo, yeah?” he groans again, his gravelly voice making you clench around his cock, sucking him in even further. god, he’s so beautiful like this and he doesn’t even know it.

“yes, touya! mn!” you moan out, scratching down his back and pulling at his snowy white hair. he grins, the pain melting with the pleasure deliciously.

for love like this, you’d rather burn your whole life down than listen to the bitching from the people around you. if your name is so good, its your good name to disgrace. you love each other like that.

they can’t change the way his heart beats when you touch him. they can’t change the fire that burns in his heart. you’re his gasoline.

they don’t have to pray for you.

finally, you unwind. his cum shoots out in thick, white ropes, so intense he physically has to hold back from burning you. he holds you close to him, making sure every single drop is nestled deep inside of you. as for you, you scream out again, mind blanking as that familiar warm feelings blankets your entire body.

you two are sticky, gooey messes as he slowly withdraws, landing next to you on the bed. with what strength he has left, he pulls you in. you don’t need a blanket when you sleep next to touya.

ultimately, some people still hold out, and tell you that you’re wrong- but fuck them.

[connorsui]

"His To Worship" || R. Sukuna

Modern AU Sukuna x fem! Reader

◇one-shot

◇ In a luxurious penthouse overlooking the city, Sukuna savors an intimate, reverent moment with you caught between admiration and possessive desire as he wishes to claim you in the warmth of the firelight.

◇genre/warnings: mild possessiveness, slow burn intimacy, sukuna be describing you like you the only woman in his life, gentle dominance, size difference, body worship, sensual tension, slow teasing, tender moments, shirt stealing (he like dat thoo), soft dom sukuna is a need

◇note: I was out in my garden the other day and there was this pretty rose that I couldn't stop staring at, like lowkey gang that shit was so pretty that it had me scribbling it down into a cute little drawing for me to later look at –i was describing this thang like it was a walking goddess and idk… but as I was making a timeline for this fic I was also going back to that rose and then heavily detailing how sukuna be seeing you …so instead of dark and possessive i made obsessed man loving his wife ….i like to humbly blame this on the flower

w.c: 1.4K

The city beyond the windows glimmered like a blanket of scattered diamonds, stretching endlessly into the night, yet the brilliance of it paled in comparison to the warmth inside the penthouse. It was as if the world outside had shrunk to a distant, insignificant hum, lost in the glow of the room where shadows flickered in the soft dance of firelight. The room itself, so vast in its opulent design—walls of glass, polished marble floors, and sleek furniture—felt much smaller now, drawn in, made intimate by the presence of two souls who, for this moment, had no need for the world beyond the glass.

The fire crackled softly, its golden glow casting long shadows that played against the modern, minimalistic decor, warming the cool surfaces of marble and steel. The air smelled faintly of embers, warm and heady, as though the room itself had taken a breath and held it, waiting for what was to come next. Everything was softened by the glow of the flames, their flickering light catching the edges of the dark furnishings and turning them into something almost alive. But the true warmth came not from the fire, but from him—Sukuna, whose presence alone seemed to fill the entire space.

He moved slowly, deliberately, his tall frame casting a broad shadow across the room as he crossed from the window to where she stood. There was something predatory in the grace of his movements, a silent power that radiated from him, but beneath that was an unfamiliar restraint—a tenderness reserved only for her. His breath was steady, though a little shallower than usual, as if each step toward her was a moment to be savored. She was the one thing in this world that he did not wish to rush.

Her back was to him, and she hadn’t turned yet, though he could tell by the slight rise and fall of her shoulders that she felt his presence. The shirt she wore, his shirt, draped loosely over her frame, the oversized fabric slipping lazily off her shoulder, revealing the curve of her bare skin. The sight of it—the soft expanse of skin in the glow of the fire—made him pause. In that moment, she looked more like a work of art than anything human, her body bathed in warmth, every inch of her seeming to catch the light just so, like an ethereal figure carved from marble.

But she was more than a mere statue to him. She was real, alive, breathing, the rise and fall of her chest more beautiful than any crafted piece of art. There was something divine in the way she stood there, unaware of just how captivating she was. She moved as though the very air around her responded to her presence, shifting to accommodate her grace, like a flower that bent under the weight of the sun.

Sukuna’s breath hitched for a moment, his eyes drinking her in as if seeing her for the first time. She was his, yes, but in moments like this, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had found something much rarer than possession. She was a paradox—soft yet strong, vulnerable yet commanding. Her beauty was like the quiet dawn, not the loud, boastful sun, but the subtle glow that transforms the world without anyone noticing until it is fully there, warm and enveloping. He stood for a beat longer, simply admiring her as if time itself had stilled just for him to indulge in the sight.

The room seemed to close in around them, making the air thick with an unspoken tension. Every flicker of the firelight seemed to highlight her in a way that made her seem otherworldly, as though she existed only here, in this space, and nowhere else. Her skin was illuminated in the golden glow, each inch of exposed flesh looking like silk under his gaze. Her body, though dressed in nothing more than his shirt, looked impossibly elegant, the loose fabric a tantalizing contrast to the curve of her bare legs beneath.

Sukuna’s fingers twitched slightly at his side, an unfamiliar feeling creeping over him—an urge not of domination, but of reverence. How could one person possess such grace, such effortless beauty, and yet be so unaware of it? He stepped forward, unable to stop himself any longer, his bare feet silent against the floor as he approached her from behind.

When he reached her, his breath mingled with hers in the warm air of the room. He could hear the soft hitch in her breathing, a barely perceptible quickening of her pulse that matched his own. His hand reached out, hovering just above the exposed skin of her shoulder, the warmth of her body pulling him in, but he didn’t touch her yet. He allowed the moment to stretch, let the anticipation build until the space between them felt charged with something far more electric than any words could express.

Finally, his hand lowered, fingers brushing gently over her shoulder. The moment his skin made contact with hers, it was as though the very air between them ignited. His touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to send a shiver through her. He could feel it—her body responding to his touch before she even realized it, her breath catching as his hand slid slowly down her arm, fingers tracing the line of her skin like he was memorizing it. Each inch he touched felt sacred, as if he were laying claim to not just her body, but to the very essence of who she was.

His fingers lingered on her waist, resting there with a possessiveness that was less about control and more about grounding himself in the moment. It was as though he needed the contact, needed to feel her warmth beneath his palm to remind himself that she was real. His hand flexed, gripping her lightly, the fabric of the shirt bunching slightly under his fingers as he leaned in, his lips just barely brushing her ear.

“Do you know what you do to me?” His voice was low, a rough murmur that vibrated through the space between them. His breath, warm against her skin, made her shudder, her body reacting instinctively to his presence, to the closeness of him.

He could feel the slight tremor in her body, could hear the way her breath hitched softly, almost imperceptibly, but not to him. Nothing about her escaped his notice. He loved the way she reacted to him—how even the smallest touch from him could make her heart race. She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to catch the soft curve of her cheek in the firelight. She was more beautiful than ever in this moment—vulnerable yet impossibly strong, a perfect contradiction that drew him in like a moth to flame.

His other hand slid up slowly, fingers trailing along her ribs, barely touching, but enough to make her skin tingle under his touch. The heat of her body pressed against his palm sent a pulse of warmth through him, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him. Touching her was like touching something divine, something untouchable, yet here she was—real, breathing, alive under his hands. She wasn’t a possession, not really. She was more than that. She was everything.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, the words a mixture of command and awe, as though he couldn’t believe his own fortune. His fingers curled gently against her waist, tightening their hold just enough to remind her of his presence, but there was no rush in his touch, no urgency. There was only reverence, as though he had all the time in the world to memorize every inch of her, to revel in the feel of her under his hands.

She shivered under his touch, her breath catching again as his lips brushed against her neck, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The room around them seemed to close in even more, the space between them shrinking until there was nothing left but the heat of their bodies and the soft rhythm of their breathing.

Sukuna’s lips lingered just above her skin, the warmth of his breath sending another shiver down her spine. He could feel the way her body reacted to him—the way her muscles tensed slightly under his hand, the way her breath hitched with each slow, deliberate touch. He loved it. He loved the way she responded to him, the way he could make her feel with just a simple touch.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something darker, something possessive. “You feel how much I need you.”

Her body was his to worship, his to cherish, his to hold. And in that moment, there was no world outside, no city below. There was only her—ethereal, beautiful, and completely his.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 16

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

best friend, baby by @ghosttotheparty*

“You— You make me feel so… good,” he finishes lamely, his head void of any words that could describe it, because how can Will describe the peace he finds in Nico’s presence, or the way he feels like he can finally breathe whenever Nico looks into his eyes? “You’re my favourite person,” he breathes. “My best friend.”

hooooooo boy the intimacy tag was NOT joking. i was gagged. yall tell me all the time how high u value will angst and like....this one DEVASTATED me for him??? like do yall ever think about how the first dialogue we hear from will in nico's perspective is self-loathing. yall ever think about how nico has always known him hating himself. well this author did. "i know you hate yourself but just because you hate yourself doesnt mean everyone else does too" hey what if we FOUGHT. also im going back in to all my FRFs to star my FAVE FAVE FAVE fics bc this is one of them LET ME TELL YOU.

2. just a dumb game by @ghosttotheparty

Nico di Angelo is not a party person. But Will Solace is going to be there. So.

they are SO FUCKING GAY and SO FUCKING IN LOVE and SO FUCKING STUPID. god i love them so fucking bad like they are inherently down bad obsessed with each other and this is how they should be. this is the way of the world.

3. even in the silver light by @ghosttotheparty

Nico is back. Will is still smitten.

first of all. latino and nb will. thank you. second of all. i am (obviously) obsessed with this author bc they KILLLLLL w burning intimacy. like you have no idea they write them like there is a twice burning fire only alive within them it's CRAZZZYYY. i also fckn LOVE that this is like. okay so the author says its plotless and it is kind of 45k of plotless, yes, but idk theres something to be said of love as a plot?? of learning and loving each other as a storyline.

4. splash by @ghosttotheparty

Annabeth is reading her favourite book. Someone walks directly into her.

yeah okay i think this is another one author week. sue me. this fic made me GRIN okay. it was so fucking cute and sweet and soft and autistic annabeth my beloved!! my love and light!! they are so in love in every universe fr and i fckn LOVE them dude i am OBSESSED. when this author writes people together it's as if you can hear them click.

5. isnt she lovely by @ghosttotheparty

Their eyes always meet in the halls. Her eyes are grey and shiny, and they make Percy think of stormy skies and marble sculptures. (She could be a marble sculpture, in the entrance of a museum, surrounded by scholars and artists and mesmerised passersby. Fucking beautiful in a way that only art ever is.) - - - Percy has had a crush on Annabeth since eighth grade. (He doesn’t know she likes him too.)

percy hitting the ground when annabeth kisses him 😭😭 HES SO REAL. i just recced this fic on instagram and i am here reccing it again bc it is EXCELLENT. i rly rly love to see pjotv percabeth in fic like i DO. theyre so fucking cute. and i LOVE how this author writes autistic annabeth!! it is so important to me!!! and this one is so CUTE like percy had such a huge crush on him.....like not just he liked her he had a CRUSH on her. god. i am melting.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[mustainegf]

Feeling extra 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 rn… 🦐

need need NEED ‘99 werewolf James. Like half wolf half man type shi. Like- imagine him changing while sheathed deep inside you, stretching ur pussy as he growls and practically yells out moans. FUCK.

𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ¹⁹⁹⁹

I knew his secret, the one he guarded fiercely from the rest of the world. James, was part werewolf.

It wasn't the full, cinematic turning into a beast, it was something in between. When he changed, he still stood on two legs, but he had more hair, wolf ears, a tail, much sharper teeth, and other… more intimate changes.

Tonight, our naked bodies slip together, and there was that familiar tension in his muscles. James had always been strung taut at these times, with the drag of the moon upon him.

We were lost in one another’s bodies. The bedroom was dark, with only the glow of the moon to cast a silver ribbon over his body. His strong hands gripped at my hips as he thrust into me, our moans tying in the heated air.

Suddenly, I felt him tense up, his movements faltering as he stilled deep. "James?" I whispered.

He didn't answer right away, his eyes were scrunched up tight, and little droplets of sweat were forming on his brow. "It's happening," he managed to grunt out, his voice straining.

Before I had a chance to fully realize what was happening, his body began to shift. I felt him get thicker, bigger inside me. The stretch was nearly unbearable as his cock swelled within me. He let out a loud moan, a sound of pain and… pleasure, and I couldn't help but whimper at the feeling.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice deeper, more feral. His hands tightened on my hips as claws dug into my skin. The transformation wasn't ever easy, but never had it happened mid sex.

I clung to him, and my fingers dug into his shoulders as the change took him.

His hair was thickening, and lengthening, and his ears were extending into points, wolf like. I could see his teeth sharpening, his canines extending. His tail was an odd addition, beautiful in its own right, as it wrapped around my leg, pulling me closer into him.

"James," I breathed, trying to soothe him, remind him that I was still here, still with him.

His eyes flickered open, and instead of the usual blue, they glowed amber, wild with lust. "I'm s-so sorry," he growled, his voice just barely human. "I can't control it..."

"I know… It's okay," I whispered back, even as the stretch was nearly painful. "I'm here, I'm with you."

It was at this point that it finally seemed to stop, and he paused, fully sheathed inside me. We lay there, gasping. The size of him was incredible, filling me completely, with every pulse, every twitch of his newly transformed cock beating within me.

"Are you okay?" James asked, his voice rough.

I nodded against him, biting my lip to smother a whimper. "Yes, just… give me a moment…”

He was still, his hands stroking along my sides in an attempt to comfort me as the stretch became slowly more bearable and the initial shock started to wear off.

"James," I began softly, "I'm ready."

With a growl, he began to move, slow at first, testing the waters. The friction was out of this fucking world, every movement almost sending me to orgasm. His growls and moans grew louder and animalistic.

"Fuck, you feel so tight," he groaned, his claws leaving trails of white hot fire across my hips. "I can't believe… oh God…

I couldn't reply. He filled me full, stretched me in ways that I never could have imagined. But in each of the powerful, feral thrusts, there was also a gentleness to his movements, careful not to hurt me.

"James, please," I whimpered, my nails digging into his hairy back.

He took the hint and quickened his hips. "I'm so close," he panted, his movements growing wilder.

The pressure inside me was insane, a knot of pleasure ready to unravel. "James, I'm gonna…"

"Do it," he growled, his amber eyes flashing on mine. “Let me feel you cum all over this cock.”

That was all it took. I spammed as he held me as still as he could, hole fluttering around his girth as I cried out.

It wasn’t long before he was cumming, shooting the heaviest load that I’d ever taken, deep into my channel.

We sat like that for a second, both of our breaths struggling to catch up.

When he finally pulled out, I felt empty as my twitching hole was already leaking with cum. He lay down beside me, his body still trembling from the shapeshift.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice returned to normal, sweet and soft.

I nodded, my lips curving into a tired smile. I breathed, reaching forward to kiss him. "That was incredible."

He chuckled, a sound that was almost human, but with hints of the wolf in it too. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," I promised him, stroking at his cheek. "It was a lot, but… in a good way."

He sighed in relief, pulling me into his arms. "I'm sorry it happened like that," he murmured. "I didn't mean to…"

I hushed him with a kiss. "It's okay, Jamie. I love every part of you, even the parts that are a little wolfy." I giggle.

[nochilforthechuck]

OKAY PEOPLE HEAR ME OUT

I’m usually an AU machine and Dungeon Meshi doesn’t escape its fate, so HERE GOES, modern days au, ice skating

Chilchuck is an ice skater, but he can’t make it professionally cause his small stature keeps him from clearing the minimal jump heights required in figure skating. He could however, compete in ice dancing (which scoring system is different and the required jumps are lower) BUT also because of his own height, no one really wants to partner with him. He’s also somewhat of an asshole, so he doesn’t exactly have the best rep around here.

Nonetheless, he trains tirelessly, hard at work and hoping to be able to enter competition one day. He’s friend with, and trains at the same rink as famous ice dancers couple on and off the ice Falyn Touden and Marcille Donato, 4 times world champs.

Everything change when Laios, Falyn’s brother, comes back home after living abroad, after being banned from figure skating competitions, because he keeps USING WEIRD, FORBIDDEN MOVES like the back summersault or shit like that. He did, before that, win several prizes (2 internationals gold medals and 1 world bronze), but now because of his weirdos antics he gotta retire from competitive figure skating. He visits his sister and her partner/wife, and immediately takes an interest in the lonely tiny guy who is cleaning flawless jumps and spins (chilchuck’s speciality is the axel, especially the triple, which is a notoriously difficult one) in a corner of the rink, and still laios never heard of the guy despite his level. Falyn and Marcille explains the situation to him and now he only has one idea: partnering with chilchuck for ice dancing competitions.

Chilchuck is A LITTLE weirded out by the new guy (he wants to throw him in a fire ring or something, the fuck is wrong with this dude), but after some (a lot) of insistence from laios, he accepts.

The great thing about that is that thanks to laios’s massive corpulence and strenght and chil’s super light frame they can do couple figures usually VERY hard to pull off, if not impossible, making them a force to reckon with in competition.

And somewhere along the lines, they fuck, and fall in love. (In that order)

I HOPE THIS ISN’T,,, CRINGE (eng dub chil’s voice), I genuinely adores making up aus and I love ice skatings aus and THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES….. all the nices poses to draw laios and chil, laios holding up chil in intricate and beautiful position on the ice…

If you like it, i’ll draw more 🥹

Also, yes, most of those are modeled after Yuzuru Hanyu, because he has exactly the body type i picture Chilchuck with for this au.

[nocturnesmoon]

And no room for error (2/2)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader Word count: 5.7k Tags: Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Happy ending, Established throuple, polyamory, military inaccuracies, Mental instability, Ambiguous reader CW: Trauma, Panic attacks, Paranoia/anxiety, Insecurities, (let me know if I missed anything) A/N: Part 2 is heeeereee, hope you enjoy, I recommend reading the first part first, but I suppose you can read this as a standalone too. (Part 1) (Read on Ao3) -They help you through the recovery process-

It feels like you're drowning.

There's no air left for you in the world. All the oxygen that was reserved for you, has been stolen right out of your lungs, leaving them burning. Everything feels like it's on fire, making you long for the days when any pain you might feel would be so much less.

Someone's arms are around you, but you don't recognize them. All you can feel is the muscle in them, how strong they must be, how easily they could overpower you without leaving a chance to fight back.

They're telling you something, something about being safe, that you're home, that nothing can hurt you. Lies. It's all lies being fed right to you, nowhere is safe, not anywhere has been safe for a long time. The moment you show weakness is when they'll strike, you have to keep it in, keep it together.

But being broken down into a heave of sobs isn't exactly keeping it together. Your hands are clutched against your chest, pulling at the fabric of a shirt that's definitely not yours. The hands that had been circled around your body like a cage, moved to help you pull the shirt over your head and take it off. Leaving your upper body naked, but finally feeling able to breathe, you suck in a large amount of air that almost does the opposite of its intent and makes you cough.

You turn your head away from the world, into the chest of the body that a few moments ago felt so threatening, now turning into a beacon of light that wants to guide you. Their voice fills your ears, no longer muffled and incoherent, but filled with a comforting familiarity.

"There ye go love, ye're alright."

You breathe in their scent, light smell of aftershave and something else that you can't place, but it's familiar it's home. You're home. The realization finally settles itself back into your skull, making your inherent panic slowly make its way down.

When you look up and stare into those beautiful blue eyes, you find an adoration and love that's tinted by guilt and sadness. It makes you want to break down into a sob again, his sad blue eyes and his sad mohawk was making you frown. How can a mohawk be sad? You don't know, it just is right now.

"Johnny…" your voice breaks just as you call his name, you're not even sure what you want from him. For him to let you go, for him to hold you closer, get you something for your dry throat, or to wipe your tears away. Everything feels like a big blob of nothing in your body, something that feels so painful, and yet also feels like nothing at all.

He shushes you quietly, tugging you impossibly closer, encouraging you to cry it out and get it out of your system. You sigh against him, letting your body turn from rigid to soft and malleable, molding yourself against him to get comfortable. Your breathing slows, coming back from your wild state once you realize where you are.

The bathroom lights hit sharply in your eye, making you turn away with a wince. You lay half naked in his grasp, only a towel hastily draped over you, giving you a little decency. Not that it used to be a problem, both your partners had seen you naked too many times to count.

You look towards the bathtub, filled up and ready. It threatened you, looking endlessly deep and ready to swallow you whole. It whispered to you, that as soon as you dipped your toes in, you'd be dragged under, filled around with a black mass until the water would enter your lungs. That no matter how much you tried to rise up for air, someone would be holding you down.

The second sigh you let out is a lot shakier, the panic is replaced with guilt quicker than you can recognize it. Shame creeping across your chest in a prickly feeling that makes you bow you head away from him.

He interrupts you before you can say it, "It's okay, no need to feel guilty." He shifts slightly on the floor, being careful to not move you too much. "Doctor said it would take time, we'll take it at your pace okay," he says in a quiet comforting tone.

"You ready to try again?" he urges quietly, placing a kiss of encouragement to the top of your head. He rests his chin atop your head, patiently waiting for you to gather yourself and give him a response.

When you gently shake your head against his chest, burying yourself into him once more, he merely nods. There'll be time to try again later in the day, all he cares is that you feel safe enough to try again.

The pancakes are coming out weird. Normally Simon would say he's quite good at getting a round shape and a fluffy look, but today the batter and the pan don't seem to be working with him. Maybe it's the stress, but he doesn't want to admit it.

You've been back for a few weeks now, finally back in their grasp, back in their arms where you're safe and where you belong. Though he should be relaxed now that you're back, he's tense in an entirely new way.

He's no longer afraid that you might be dead, but there's a new fear that has taken residence within him. Ever since you got back you haven't been the same, understandably so. You were put in therapy promptly whether you wanted to or not, weekly sessions that you haven't expressed much opinion about yet.

It’s hard seeing you like this, you're eerily quiet way more often, staring off into space, and no matter what you refuse to be in any room alone. It doesn't matter if you're sleeping, showering, or doing nothing at all. The biggest struggle has been on that matter, they support you in every way they can, but they also know how much you hate it yourself.

How you so easily go in a panic if you're left alone in a room, how hard it is to get you back to a state of calm. It's exhausting on your psyche, and they can see the toll it takes on you. It's bad enough they're not keen on letting you out of their sights for long anyway.

Your therapist said that it would take time, but eventually you'd be able to work yourself back to a state of normalcy, and that until then, all that Simon and Johnny could do was give you all the support you needed. And so, they did, no questions asked.

Simon sighs as he flips another wrecked pancake over, the sizzling of the pan getting to him, the noise grating something disgusting in his brain. He tears his eyes away from his deformed child pancakes and looks towards the couch in the living room.

He smiles at the sight of you and Johnny snuggled up on it, fast asleep the both of you. Stray rays of sunlight comes through the closed curtains, painting your cheek and Johnny's chest in a soft golden glow.

Johnny's arms are secured around your waist, holding you close to him, your head on his bare chest listening to his steady heartbeat for something real for your mind to grasp at. You've been sleeping a lot more recently.

Johnny theorized that you're just catching up on sleep, finally being able to rest and recover now that you were safe. Simon thinks that your brain finds it easier to exist when you aren't conscious most of the time. Though he wishes that Johnny's theory is all it is.

Simon knows all too well what it's like to come back from something as traumatic as that. Some days he feels like he hasn't even fully recovered himself from his own past. It's something that still lives with him all these years later, and it kills him to know that it's likely to be a similar journey for you as well.

At least he can give himself the small reprieve in the knowledge that both he and Johnny will be there for you every step of the way, no matter what you might need from them. However, even then it never escapes the back of his mind that it might as well have been their fault that you got taken.

He pushes the thought away just as quick as it arrives, he's already spent so long entertaining the idea, but the facts are also staring him in the face. You had been targeted almost randomly, at least in the sense that it had nothing to do with them or their job. The men had been revealed to have no connection to the 141 or anything even closely related.

More or less, it was one terrible, terrible coincidence.

He flips over the pancake one last time before putting it on the plate with the rest of the deformities. He turns off the stove and moves the pan off the heat, looking over everything to make sure it's alright to leave.

With a sigh he grabs a towel and dries off his hands, walking out of the open kitchen and into the living room. It wasn't any of their choices, this apartment was not the best fit for the three of you, but it was what they could get on such short notice.

Only having you back home for a few weeks now didn't exactly invite mental space to consider apartment hunting. Though Simon knew you wouldn't thrive for long here, you had already expressed your dislike of the bathroom, and of the window placement. It gave him a little hope that you'd be able to go looking with them soon, that they'd be able to get a full new start soon, but for now it was still too early.

He crouches down next to the couch, carefully reaching over to gently caress your cheek. His thumb glides over a forming scar that’s still visible near your ear. His eyes search over your face, watching the way the light falls on your skin, the way your complexion is, the color of your hair. He maps out the way your face looks, the new changes that weren't there before, he wonders where every little new crease comes from.

You haven't spoken a lot about what the traffickers did to you, also understandably so. You said you were working through it in the therapy, but it didn't make them any less anxious about what happened to you.

"Mh…Welcome home Si…" Johnny's sleepy voice ruffs out, quiet and careful to not wake your sleeping form in his arms. He looks to Simon through half-lidded eyes, he swallows through his dry throat, moving just a tad to try and wake his sleeping limbs.

"When d'ye come back?"

Simon let's out a huff of a sigh, a small sound coming from deep in his chest. His hand moves from your sleeping face to Johnny's instead. His fingers gently gliding over the rough stubble, as he watches his partners soft blue eyes get more and more visible as he wakes up.

"An hour ago," Simon mumbles in response "didn't wanna wake the two of ya, made some pancakes though… " he looks towards the opening to the kitchen and winces, "Well I tried to."

"Hm, am sure they taste delicious, like always" Johnny says with a smile on his lips, his eyes closing as he leans his cheek against Simon's hand. It's a moment of bliss for the both of them, their own little cocoon of happiness, all neat and wrapped up with you in the middle.

It doesn't take long before you're stirring as well, sensing both their presences to be awake. Simon retracts his hand when you start moving your head, to make sure you don't bump into him. "Mornin' love" he whispers quietly, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your lips break into a soft smile, an even softer sigh escaping you as you mumble something back that was probably supposed to be a good morning. Your eyes remain closed for as long as you can stand it, basking in Johnny's warmth and burying your face into his neck, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"C'mon loves," Simon grumbles rising himself back up to stand, hovering over the couch "let's eat yeah?"

The bedroom is dark and quiet, the only noise that could be heard above the ringing tinnitus in your ears would be Simon's heartbeat. You had always loved being smushed between the two, now more than ever it helped you feel grounded, safe.

You had been awake for a while now, softly listening to their breathing, Johnny's soft snoring and Simon's deep air flow. It's comfortable, nowhere else in the world you'd rather be in this moment. You just had one tiny hang-up about it all.

You needed to pee, really badly.

Johnny's arm was firmly draped around your waist, keeping a pressure that you usually liked while he pressed his chest into your back. You could feel his soft breath on the back of your neck, his presence is overpowering alone already, and next to Simon it's always like things are doubled for better or for worse.

Simon on the other hand, wasn't holding onto either of you per se. His arm was draped out to the side, allowing you to snuggle up to him and lay your head on his warm chest, meanwhile Johnny could use his arm as an extension of his pillow.

You could easily wiggle free if you wanted to, but that was the thing. Even though your brain screamed at you to get a move on to the toilet, you knew that as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom it would be screaming for different reasons.

You had a tendency to really hate your brain lately, and a sudden surge of indecisiveness didn't help the subject either. You don't know how long you've been laying here and thinking about getting up.

You had considered waking up Simon, he said you could, if there ever was anything yet your muscles didn't move.

There hadn't gone more than two nights between, before you had another nightmare that would wake you up. They'd always be there of course, either talking you back to sleep with kind words, or if sleep avoided you, they'd take you to the living room to watch a comfort movie, leaving the other to continue sleeping had they been so fortunate as to not wake up.

You felt beyond guilty about it. You knew that their sleep tended to border horrible already, and you certainly weren't helping it. They were exhausted from it, you could see it, maybe even more exhausted than you, and yet they never complained.

With a soft sigh you manage to wiggle free from Johnny's grip, wincing and recoiling every time one of them seemed to be waking up. Slowly but surely, you managed to get out of their hold, and both of them seemingly still asleep.

You could still remember earlier in your relationship with them when it was all still new and fresh. They'd be much more easily woken up by the tiniest movements, always on alert. They still were occasionally when they had just gotten home from deployment, but it didn't usually take long to get them back into that sense of comfort and safety.

The bed creaks as you settle in the end of the bed, crossing your legs and looking towards the little bathroom that's connected to the bedroom. It's right there, maybe if you're quick, close your eyes, hurry and maybe you can be faster than your fears.

Yet not a single muscle in you moves.

All you find yourself doing is sitting there and staring at the door. You've never felt more pathetic than you do now, and it's not even something you can control. Because god knows you wish you could control it, that you could will it away with a flick of the wrist.

Tears press on your eyes, and you snap them shut to stop them from falling. You refuse to cry, not now, not over something that's so stupid to you. You let out a heavy shaky sigh, your hands coming up to rub at your cheeks and smooth out to your neck. You let your head hang low, trying to get your brain to make up its mind.

You freeze when the bed creaks again but not from your movements this time around. You don't need to look back to know who it is, and another sigh escapes you when you feel his burly body mold itself against your back.

His blonde curls coming into view when he buries his head against your neck and places a featherlight kiss to your skin. He still seems half asleep, his body heavy against your back, using you to lean himself against as he processes what's going on.

"Bathroom?" he asks in a hoarse voice, his tongue smacking against his lips to wet them along with his throat.

You nod quietly, not finding it in yourself to answer him verbally, you have no idea what kind of tone would come out from your vocal cords. His arms tighten around you briefly to mimic a hug, his chest humming against your back when he acknowledges it.

"C'mon love," he leans back and rubs the remaining sleep out of his eyes. When he moves out of the bed you don't immediately follow him. Your eyes going back to Johnny as if to check that he's still sleeping, that you didn't ruin both of their cycles this time.

Simon's hand gently cups your cheek, guiding your gaze upwards to meet his own. "He's still asleep, c'mon" his hand moves from your cheek to your arm, hoisting you up to your feet. Once you get steady it moves again to settle on the back of your neck. A soft and guiding grip that he knows helps you relax, allows you to stop thinking about anything, and put your trust in him to get you to where you need to go.

It's a simple thing, not really needed in this context but you appreciate his attention to detail anyways.

You both quietly move to the bathroom so you can do what you need to do. He slowly sinks to the ground with a sigh, leaning up against the white wall while he lets you do your thing. He almost looks like he's fallen back asleep sitting up by the time you’re done.

You slide down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder before he moves his arm to pull you into his chest. "I'm sorry," you whisper quietly against him, feeling the need to say it over and over again.

"Don't," he stops you quickly, squeezing you closer and placing a kiss to your temple. "You can't help it right now,"  he sighs and gently runs his fingers over your scalp. "You know that we'll always take care of you right? No matter what you need, big or small it's not a problem," he cranes his neck to look you in the eye.

"I know…" you whisper quietly, "I just feel like I'm ruining everything, nothing has been the same since…well you know…"

"What was done to you was cruel, and completely out of your control dove," he pauses briefly as if to think about the words he's going to say next. "None of it is your fault, a lot of things are different now yes, but it's not changing anything between the three of us, you needing a bit of extra help is not you ruining anything," he reassures you.

You let out a heavy sigh, curling into his body as his hold tightens around you. "It still doesn't feel good," you mumble into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his warmth. He had always been a bit of a human furnace.

"I know love, I know" he presses another kiss to your head, "It'll get better though."

A calm quiet settles over the two of you while you rest against each other on the ground. Your hands gently fiddle with his shirt while his own hands tap over your scalp. It doesn't take long before it starts hurting to sit on the hard ground.

"Let's go back to bed…" you suggest with a deep sigh, feeling him nod against you and begin to move to get back up.

You're not surprised to find that Johnny is still fast asleep, having not even moved an inch. He was always such a heavy sleeper when he finally was home, the safety it brought giving his body reprieve he wasn't able to get anywhere else.

Though he didn't fail to notice as you and Simon fell back into bed. He stirred slightly, groaning sleepily as you molded your body to his once again. He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck and breathing you in.

"Where'd ye go" he asks quietly, his voice breathy and almost incoherent to you. His accent always got thicker around certain times; mornings included. Your back arched as you stretched out and got comfortable in his hold, pressing yourself into his chest while Simon comfortable next to the two of you.

"Bathroom," Simon answers slightly groggy, already feeling the pull of sleep beckoning him back under. Johnny mumbled something in response, but you didn't manage to catch it, already off in your own little world of dreams and sleep wrapped up nice and warm in-between them.

When you finally started getting better, it began looking up again. Both your boys were happy with the progress, and for once, you were too. You still had a long way to go, but small steps, one at a time showed progress. It also helped more of your usual personality come back, and of course not to mention the amounts of complaints you had about the apartment they had temporarily found.

Enough so that they finally decided to look at different listings and get a move on the whole process.

Johnny looked on with a smile, as you quietly went through the empty apartment like a cat on the prowl. It was the fourth place they had been to, each one before you had been unsatisfied with, and though Simon had liked the third place shown, he agreed it wouldn't be enough space.

So far you hadn't had any complaints about this one, it was spacious, had a little more room than the old place, and checked off almost everything in your checklist. As far as Johnny could tell, this could potentially be it.

He could definitely see it, lazy mornings spend in the bedroom, Friday movie nights on the couch, Simon and Johnny baking your favorite cake in the kitchen for your upcoming birthday. It was a life he could envision in this apartment, a happy space that was just for the three of you.

You had disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes now, and it got him curious enough to follow you. He walked over and leaned against the open doorway, his eyes landing on you standing in the middle of the room.

Having sensed his presence, you spoke without bothering to turn around and look at him, "There's no tub." His eyebrows creased, as his eyes scanned the small bathroom. There wasn't a whole lot of space, most definitely smaller than the last place, but not any worse in Johnny's humble opinion.

"An absolute need?" he asks you curiously, making his way over to you and sliding his arms around your waist. You let out a sigh and let yourself lean back against him, feeling his chin come to rest on your shoulder.

"Well, no but…" you chew on your lip while you try to formulate your words, but you never get a chance to finish your sentence.

"Right, I've had enough of this prick let's go," Simon appears in the doorway, his arms crossed and even with the black surgical mask on it wasn't hard to see that he was pissed off. Johnny moved to the side, keeping one hand on your hip as he looked back at his other partner.

"Why what's wrong?" you ask concerned, looking back at his darkened eyes, and crossed arms. As much as you had always enjoyed the muscles on his body, he had a very special way of looking threatening when he was angry.

You quietly went over to him through a few steps, Johnny gently letting you go, only being a few steps behind. "Prick's not worth our time, we'll find a new realtor" Simon grumbles, his stance becoming less standoffish as you come into his space.

His eyes soften as he looks at you, and then Johnny behind you. Whatever the realtor did or said really didn't sit right with him. "What'd he do?" Johnny asks in a tone that's as concerned as your expression.

"Doesn't matter," Simon answers his tone laced with annoyance, "we can find better than this place anyway, no tub." He uncrosses his arms to gesture around the bathroom, your own gripe with the place having no tub wasn't only yours.

"The both of ye really want that tub huh…"

Johnny's chuckle makes you smile, turning around to face him and crossing your arms to mimic Simon moments prior. "Of course, the tub is the most important part," you say cheekily looking over your shoulder again to see if Simon agreed with you.

"Obviously" he backs up you up proudly, watching on as Johnny looked at the two of you like you were ridiculous.

"Well, we better get goin' then, clearly this place would be better burning" Johnny laughs, his infectious happiness making you smile even when he ushers you out of the bathroom. You don't get all the way before you collide with something that might as well have been a brick wall.

You blink twice before realizing that the brick wall was a human, and the human was your realtor. You take a quick instinctive step to the side to get out of his way, but at the same time he takes a step back as well.

"Ugh finally, are the three of you done, I've got other appointments you know" The realtor barely even gets to finish his sentence before he's pushed back by Simon. He lets out a pathetic yelp when he drops his clipboard.

"Now listen here Mark, if you ever as much as look wrong in their direction again, let alone even try to actually insult them, I will personally make sure you never see the light-"

"Oookay, time to go love," Johnny's voice filters through Simons hyper specific threats, his hands resting on your shoulders as he steers you towards the door, leaving Simon to it. Despite your struggling and tries of looking back to call for your partner, you don't get free of Johnny's grip before your out in the hallway again.

"Christ…he's not gonna bash his teeth in again?" you ask nervously, trying to ignore the urge to go back in there and drag him out here. It wouldn't be much use, unfortunately he was a lot stronger than you.

"No of course not…the idiot isn't…well he's not that dumb, I think he's just gotta get the threats out of his system…fucker kind of deserved it," a crooked smile decorates his lips as he gently pulls you closer to him.

"He wasn't that bad…he's probably just stressed" you tried to reason, one hand gripping Johnny's forearm as you leaned into him. You had always been rather seeking of touch, even before what happened, but even moreso now, it always felt nice when they instigated it first.

"Darling he…"

"Okay but still, he shouldn’t get worked up so easily…" you decided on, leaving little room for arguing, not that Johnny ever wanted to on purpose.

"Ah know love…" Johnny sighs, his head perking up when Simon comes back out as well. He had always been a bit prone to anger, most of the time it was a quiet simmer inside him, but occasionally it would bubble out.

It was something he said he was working on, but sometimes you wondered how exactly he was doing that. It usually wasn't a problem, so he probably was in control of it, but it never failed to surprise you how quick he was to go off on someone if they were rude to either you or Johnny.

"We done here?" he asks clearly still in a mood, as he looks between the two of you.

"If you're done chewing his head off" Johnny said in response, knocking his head in the direction of the stairs so the three of you could get a move on. He moved away from you and started making his way to the stairs.

Simon took his place at your side, looking to you with a tinge of concern. "You aright?" he whispers quietly, as if he wasn't the one that had spouted a rather colorful threat to someone else. You let out a small, amused huff, nodding your head yes in the process.

"Yeah, I’m just fine."

"And uhm…how long is it gonna be?"

You're sitting quietly on top of the kitchen counter, your back leaned against the wall behind you as you watch Johnny cook. The new apartment suited you; it didn't take long for you to start decorating it with everything that screamed you. Both Simon and Johnny were happy to see it, it was going really well, until they got called for another deployment.

"Price said it would only take a few days, maybe a week" Simon pockets his phone and crosses his arms. He avoids your eyes like they'd burn him if he looked back, he knew he'd buckle so fast if you were using that soft disappointed look.

You hadn't been happy at all when Price made contact with the boys to let them know they'd be deployed for another mission. Theoretically you knew that they'd have to go back eventually, it wasn't like that part would change, but it still felt so soon.

You had only gotten fully integrated into this apartment for a few days now, and while you had done your best to make it home, it was still new. You didn't like the idea of having to be alone in it for even that amount of time.

Johnny hadn't spoken a word about it yet ever since Simon emerged in the kitchen with the news. Though his silence was a pretty clear indicator of his mood about it. Just moments prior he had been chatting away about everything and nothing, now he was quieter than a mouse.

"Look we don't want to go any more than you want to see us leave, but it's nothing we haven't done before," He moves over to stand beside you, his hand running over your thigh and giving it a squeeze. "I'll help you make a list, so you don't get lost in your head," he adds when your hands lay on top of his.

You both look towards Johnny, observing his movements that have become distinctively sharper. He moves the pan off the heat and turns off the stove, not turning to look at either of you for a good few more seconds.

"Don't ye think it's a bit early…" His nervousness is the first the Simon notes. He knows what he's thinking about, the fear of coming back home to you being gone once again. Simon wasn't too keen on the thought either, but their lives couldn't be stopped completely, they had to return at some point.

"We'll be back in no time, just like usual" Simon tries to reassure, at this point not only you and Johnny, but himself as well. Johnny nods, moving closer to the two of you and settling in-between your dangling legs.

He knows they don't have a choice in the matter, it's their job, it's what they signed up for and they have a duty to fulfill. They upped the security on the new apartment, and they've helped you learn some self-defense techniques, he has to put trust in those and in you. He has to believe that your safe, even on your own.

"Love…d'ya pick a movie yet?" Johnny changes the looming subject that puts dread in your mind, to something less thought consuming. You smile for yourself, turning slightly sheepish as you nod your head yes.

Simon seemingly already picked up on it, chuckling quietly at it "Your favorite?" At your confirmation, he scoffs amused, he didn't have anything against it, but you had been watching it on repeat the last week. He was surprised you were still able to watch it without getting bored, but it was your favorite for a reason.

"Aright love, let's go put it on the TV, let Johnny finish our dinner," he pats your thigh bringing Johnny in for a kiss before stepping away and leading you to the living room. You immediately aim for the couch, plopping down and making it creak a little from the sudden impact.

Your eyes go around to the various decorations and pieces of home you've placed around. You've done anything you can to make it feel like your old place, you knew it wouldn't have the exact same feel, but you could still make this new feeling a good one here.

Simon finds the remote and takes a seat next to you, allowing you to cuddle up to him while he flips through streaming services to find the right movie. Before long Johnny would come in with the food, you'd all watch the movie, talk and joke around before falling into bed, cuddling each other until each one of you fell into deep sleep, safely nestled in each other’s arms.

And even though you knew they'd have to leave on deployment again soon. You also knew that they'd come home safe and sound like they promised, and when they do, just like you promised, you'd be here open arms and warms smile, ready to bring them in to the sanctuary you've built.

[spoiled-slutt]

Helo hello! Soso I have a request.. can I have a Ayano x fem chubby reader?? I think Ayano would kill literally anyone who makes fun of reader <3

♡ Teddy Bear ♡

You are my teddy bear..

A/N: AHH I LOVE THAT IDEA. TYSM FOR THAT 🙏🏾🙏🏾

Ayano Aishi × Shy!Chubby!Fem reader!!

Characters aged up to 18+ (Senior Year)

CW: Blood, Knife play, Sub & Dom, Killing (its Ayano Aishi 🙄), Sub Reader, Dom Ayano

SFW

I think Ayano would absolutely kill someone if they messed with you for your looks

She would figure out a way. After she got with you, she would make them like a suicide.

She loves you. Every single part of you is perfect to her

And if anyone tries to talk you down and tell you you're not?

Let's just say you won't be seeing that person anymore.

Ayano is BIG on PDA. She LOVES to show you off. Cause you make her actually feel something. She doesn't want to ever let go of you

When you're talking to somebody, she always comes up and holds your hand or holds your waste or just lays her arm around your neck

You're the person who made her feel normal! To make her feel feelings. She wants to show you off to the world

One time. A bully was messing with you. Drew all over your desk. Calling you names when you walked by. And Ayano could tell it was seriously bothering you. Since you always wanted to hang out in close places. So she was able to convince Info-Chan to give her the address of the bullies and lit their houses on fire. You felt bad, but she convinced you that karma was only coming after then after what they did to you

She definitely loves to lay on you. She hugs to so much. You're a Teddy Bear to her

Your nickname is Teddy Bear. She just thinks it fits you so much. You're sweet. Beautiful. Amazing. Caring.

Unlike her mother. After she killed all the rivals. You actually like her from the beginning. You liked how she was quiet and kept to herself. You sometimes caught her staring at you and you smiled

You were in Ayano's house since she called you over, begging for you to be by her side for the 10th time this week. But you don't mind and so dosent you mother (means your mother gets the house all to her herself. She is also happy you found someone). You were making lunch. Just a little something that didn't take long. And you knew Ayano would love it (she loves anything you cook). You felt someone hug you from behind. You jumped slightly and then realized it was Ayano. You smiled. She kissed your neck and face. "Yes, Love?" You said,"Smells yummy..." she said, looking at the food. "It's just a little something," you said as you took it off the stove. "You done,,,?" She asked. You nodded and felt her grab your arm. She dragged you to her room, throwing you on the bed. You had to have the most confused face, but you soon felt her crawl onto you, hugging you. You smiled softly. Her face in your chest and your arm around her. You saw your phone start to scroll on it as she cuddled onto you. You looked down at herm she had a smile plastered on her face. This is what she wanted. And she was so happy

NSFW

She definitely punishes you if you ever talk to someone to long or you wear something inappropriate

She loves to tease you. In public she sometimes would rub your thighs and squeeze on them

If you were feeling insecure she would put your mind at rest while giving you slowly sex

"Shhh.. it's ok, my dear.." Ayano said softly as she brought the knife to Your leg, slowly digging it into your plush skin. You squirm at the cold feeling at the knife. "What? Isn't this what you wanted..? You dress up so nice for your interview.. tsk. I know those men were looking at you, " She said as she dragged the knife closer to your neck. Your breathing was uneven as you felt the blade on your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she smiled at you. "I don't blame them, though.." she said as she brought her other hand to your inner thigh. She felt you move your hips closer to her hand. "Stop." You immediately stopped staying still as the blade she placed on your neck had more pressure. She kissed your forehead as she began to rub your clit through your clothes. You let out a quiet moan as she places the knife on your thigh. She went closer to your ear. Her breath was fanning over it as she whispered in your ear. "I'll make sure they know who you belong to.."

That was the night you had her name carved into your thigh. It's faint now but you can still see her name there

Ayano slowly thrusted her fingers and out of your soaking cunt "That's a good girl.." she praised you as you moaned out her name. "So pretty.." she whispered. She leaned forwards catching your swollen lips to connect to hers. You tasted intoxicating. So sweet. So delicious. She wanted to keep you under her forever. She pulled away while looking at you. She smiled. "You're a masterpiece, my dear.." she spoke. Tears screamed down your face, your hair messed up in a frezzy mess, your neck and body littered to the brim with marks, and your swollen clit that is making your legs shake. You looked stunning. She did this. She made you feel this good. And she wanted everybody to know.

She loved your body so much

It's an understament actually.

She loved your body so much

Your rolls. Your thighs. Your tits. Your plush face. You're like a masterpiece for her skinny body

She loves how your tits bounce as she forces you to ride her strap. She loves seeing the tears fall from your eyes. Them running down your round red face. Her holding on your thighs and hips helping her give you the best pleasure you've ever had. OMGGG

She loves her teddy bear<3

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Why am I still reading so many people believing that Galadriel actually “shut the door” on Sauron!? Did you all miss the part where he stabbed her above her heart with Morgoth’s crown and, in the next scene, he’s mind communicating with her!?

This is the scene that starts Sauron’s “grouping” of Galadriel’s mind not her “closing the door” on him.

‘I know what it was that you last saw,’ she said; ‘for that is also in my mind. Do not be afraid! But do not think that only by singing amid the trees, nor even by the slender arrows of elven-bows, is this land of Lothlórien maintained and defended against its Enemy. I say to you, Frodo, that even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my thought. But still the door is closed! The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 7: "The Mirror of Galadriel"

This only happens in the Third Age, thousands of years after Season 2 finale. Galadriel can't "close the door" on Sauron, on her own. She doesn't know how. She didn't even kick-out her magical arc, yet. And when she says “the door is shut”, Sauron wrecks that door wide open by having them bind together via Morgoth’s crown.

And why is everyone ignoring "Dark Galadriel"? In the Third Age she can walk between the Seen and Unseen world, and is a powerful elf-witch. Did you all see any of this happening in "Rings of Power", already? The correct answer is: not yet.

Tolkien describes Galadriel "dark form" in "The Mirror of Galadriel" chapter: [she] stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful.

Peter Jackson took this to the next level, and drew inspiration of Glorfindel's form in the Unseen World, when fighting the Nazgûl (in the "Fellowship of the Ring", his role is taken by Arwen), and we see it again when she fights Sauron in Dol Guldur:

Caught between fire and water, and seeing an Elf-lord revealed in his wrath, they [the Nazgûl] were dismayed, and their horses were stricken with madness.

I thought that I saw a white figure that shone and did not grow dim like the others. Was that Glorfindel then?' 'Yes, you saw him for a moment as he is upon the other side: one of the mighty of the Firstborn. He is an Elf-lord of a house of princes.  Gandalf and Frodo talk about Glorfindel's form in the Unseen World (Frodo was able to see it because he had the One ring on). The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 1: "Many Meetings"

[stationintern]

Hello all!

This month was, truly, a beautiful month for me reading-wise. The birds were chirping, I found smut that made me sweat, and I revisited some old favorites. Let's jump right in. I am so excited to share these with you. (Hence why I am posting this a day early.)

Strap in!

Dwelling On Dreams by @the-sinking-ship for H/D Big Bang 2021, 135k, E

I reread this fic this month, and it was just as delicious as I remembered. There are aspects of this fic that felt burned into my memory, so it came as a shock to me when I realized that the last time I'd read this fic was over a year ago. Everything about it feels so vivid. Harry's magic, his raw sexual energy. Draco's ability to make me scream at my phone and throw a mini temper-tantrum. I love flashbacks, and this fic has them in abundance. If you're looking for a thick read with complex characters and an interesting case to solve, look no further!

Hear Me Out by @rainstormradish for @dronarryfest 2024, 5.2k, E

I am pleased to announce that I have officially bought my ticket and jumped on the Dronarry train. You've all convinced me. This fic, in particular, is what really got the ball rolling. This was... immaculate. When I said I found smut that made me sweat, I MEANT IT. I had to, like, physically reconnect with my limbs after I read this. A bit of fake dating to start you off, and it only gets better from there.

The Way You Say My Name by InnerLilith 5.3k, E

Ya'll ever just bark at your phone? Sometimes, a girl just wants to read about Harry Potter going absolutely bonkers over Draco Malfoy calling him sweet little names. Very hot, very important to me.

Please hold. Your call is very important to us./Bloodlust and Bureaucracy by @goblinmatriarch 5k, T/8.5k E

DOUBLE FEATURE! I love the smell of wizarding bureaucracy in the morning. What a little world you have built! Authors who can create a new little piece of the wizarding world to explore mean the world to me. Very interesting in regards to how the medical system in the wizarding world relates to its real-world counterparts. Also, some biting action. Very smart, very hot.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites 11k, E

Critics are raving. "Literally ripping up the wallpaper in my home," says one reviewer. "Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure," says another. Bureaucracy lovers win forever and ever. Also, Draco gets to wear many suits. Harry Potter the reluctant politician. I couldn't have wished for more.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses 46k, E

BOATS, REPRESSION, MORE BOATS, EDGING (for sports purposes), EVEN MORE REPRESSION, AND WILL YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAY THERE'S MORE BOATS. I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to parallel the epic highs and lows of college rowing with the literal wizarding war. If that isn't talent, I don't know what is babe.

Truth or Dare? by @lettersbyelise 3.4k, E

There is truly nothing more intimate than jerking off your childhood rival while a party goes on around you. THAT, my friends, is the key to post-war, inter-house unity.

Borrowed Time by @the-starryknight for @dronarryfest 2024, 7.6k, E

Oh this was fire. What do you know about body swapping threesomes? Would you like to know more? Yes. Yes, you would.

Alrighty, I think that's all for now, folks. Very thankful to be in a fandom with so so so many talented people. You all blow my mind. Here's to another month of fantastic fiction!

See ya!

XX, Moon

[xythlia]

↳ THE FEVER

› HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR SICKO HUSBAND ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER <3

› satoru x stepdaughter!reader [reader is like early twenties bc it was easier to write with my own age in mind idk]

› word count : 2k+

warnings : dark content stepcest, voyeurism, male masturbation, possessiveness, inherent power imbalance, peeping, showerhead masturbation, yandere ish, he's just a mega perv if I missed anything lmk!

Truth be told Satoru never thought he'd be the marrying type, if it were solely his decision he probably wouldn't have but with the external pressure to marry and produce a child he ultimately chose the path of least resistance.

A readymade family so to speak, a cheeky loophole to those unrelenting demands he'd heard since he was in his late teens. Not that he didn't care for his newfound family, he did of course. The solid golden band around his ring finger, tangible proof of his commitment. A smart, lovely, accomplished spouse with a daughter already on her way to becoming equally accomplished, if not more so.

He'd only been introduced to you a few months before the wedding date, he didn't push you for any earlier interaction because your mother had already warned him you were surly about the whole thing, distrustful of him as a would be father figure. And yes, it was a slow road to minimal acceptance but you'd made progress in the time after the wedding. For instance you no longer glare and pointedly ignore his presence in the house.

A win is a win, after all.

But as time has gone by Satoru found himself plagued by thoughts, not of his wife, but of his adorably aloof step daughter. He couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you were, strikingly similar to your mother but with the dewiness of youth making you all the more enticing.

Maybe getting married wasn't such a bad thing.

At the same time it's become tortuous living in the same home together. Its a test of resolve, the way he can't help but stare at the way your sleep shorts have ridden up your ass when you blearily pad around the kitchen in the morning, grumbling about coffee. The way you routinely wear no bra in the comfort of the home without a second thought, although his every thought focuses around how it would feel to palm at your breasts, squeeze them and hear you whine in his hold.

All this early morning rumination comes to halt when he hears the gentle splashing sound of the shower from across the hall, pausing his endless train of thought as his cock throbs.

You're in the shower.

He can picture it: the way the water beads on your skin like rhinestones, the smell of shampoo and conditioner filling the room with the distinct scent of you, and the way soap would foam almost obscenely against the planes of your body.

If someone had the ability to print perfect snapshots of his thoughts they'd rival even the raunchiest porn publications in existence and his hand flexes against the satin sheets, fisting them in an iron grip as his cock throbs. His imagination isn't enough, the train of thought is veering into insatiable territory but it makes his pulse pound through his entire body. Lust and adrenaline mingling into a dangerous shot that he's already swallowed whole.

He has to see you for himself.

As he flings back the sheets and pads towards the bedroom door the tiniest sliver of guilt pierces the haze of desire wrapped around his brain like saran wrap. Of course he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be considering it. He's your stepfather and you're his stepdaughter, struggling to adjust to the upheaval of your life and finding your place in the brutal world you inhabit parallel to the normal one. Fuck, h should be helping, not daydreaming about-

His eyes catch you in the mirror first, back turned to him as you fiddle with a bottle of body wash. Satoru has to stop himself from gasping not just at the sight of you but at the flood of rapid fire thoughts that speed through his head.

Do you touch yourself? Surely you must, a woman in her early twenties is hardly unaware of self pleasure but do you finger yourself or are you partial to toys? Have you fucked someone? It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility, and he's seen you get dressed up for dates here and there before but it makes his blood rush thinking about some faceless nameless man getting to look at you naked, kiss that pretty pussy he's dreamt of, or god forbid be inside you.

The perfumed steam wafting from the cracked bathroom door makes his eyes flutter shut, hands flipping the waistband of his boxers down just enough to slip his aching cock out. He hisses as it springs free, lightly smacking against his abdomen. The pressure of his hand is only a bare, fleeting sense of relief considering he'd much rather see you soaking wet and on your knees in front of him, have your hands wrapped around him.

Spitting into the palm of his hand he wishes it was your mouth mapping the veins of his cock instead as he strokes himself, spreading saliva along the thick length of his shaft and his thumb swipes against his overly sensitive head feeling the warm precum leaking from his slit and it feels like he's made of hardened sugar that's now dissolving in the warm steam of the shower.

The pleasure is heightened both by the fact that this is beyond perverse and by the sick way his eyes can't move away from your reflection. The water rinsing down your body should be his fingers trailing burning paths over you, teasing adorable little noises from your lips and making you beg for him. The way your breasts look soaking wet is enough to make him nearly forget himself as his strokes become more frantic, panting in harsh, heaving breaths as his muscles scream to shove open the door and push you against the slick tile wall.

He can practically hear it, the yelp of surprise that he'd shush from you and the way you'd moan helplessly as his fingers swiped through your folds, tactile admiration of your pussy before stuffing you full of himself. It wouldn't be kind or romantic, not with the way you make him feel like a rotten dog, all starving neediness and if he sunk his teeth into you it's doubtful he'd ever be able to let go.

His breathing becomes so labored it's like a stone is pressing against his chest as he lets himself run wild, cerulean eyes blown wide but unseeing as the mental images over take him like a small vessel helpless against raging waves.

How would your hand look wrapped around his throbbing cock? Would you struggle at all, would it be new for you? Those impossibly wide, ravenous eyes are all devouring as he watches you run hands down your body. It's the sheer thrill of this entirely forbidden sight that has him nearly doubled over now, jaw clenched so hard surely his teeth would shatter if he were an ordinary man. His hand pumps his cock faster now, grip tightening as he swipes over his sensitive, weeping head and god would heaven be more than just a word if he could feel you around him. Would your eyes get that glassy, cockdrunk look and would drool slip shamelessly from the corners of your mouth as he fucks you senseless? What he wouldn't give to slap your cheek with his flushed cock, turn you into nothing but a taboo slut.

As you grab for the showerhead it nearly stops him dead.

As if you knew what kind of questions your unwelcome observer was asking.

So you do enjoy self pleasure. Seeing you adjust the jet of water and angle it just right makes his nerves feel like someone spiked fishhooks through them and yanked them impossibly taut. If only that jet of water was his tongue, lapping at your wetness and nudging your clit with his nose while your fingers tug on his alabaster hair. He'd have you on your back before you could blink, thighs squeezing his head and toes curling mid air from how thoroughly he'd work your pussy over. Fuck if only he could taste you-

The coil in his stomach snaps and he can't help the bone deep moans that escape his lips, thigh muscles trembling from the effort of keeping him upright as his balls throb and thick cum spurts in his hand. As he pants his ears ring, every sound as if it's coming through a cardboard tube pressed to his ears.

You'd look so beautiful with his cum splashed across your chest, your face.

Its not until Satoru feels goosebumps rise across the back of his neck that he remembers himself, remembers exactly what he's doing. Glancing up his eyes catch yours in the reflection.

Its damning, but he can't help being defiant against it. Grinning back at you, seeing your eyes wide with shock and your hand frozen poised above you as you were slotting the showerhead back in its holder. His heart hammers so hard against his ribcage it feels like surely it would break loose, splatter across the floor. Its a defining moment, will you scream threats at him or will you cower away?

You say nothing, do nothing but simply turn back around. Your slightly hunched shoulders glistening with moisture tell him enough, you feel exposed and vulnerable but lack the conviction to stand against the feeling. It shouldn't make him feel so elated but now he's got confirmation: you're weak in positions like this.

Would you be just as weak flat on your back?

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 1

Summary: Liv and Declan, Declan and Liv, or the story about how a born and raised Tottenham girl falls in love with an Arsenal player... and its consequences.

Author’s note: Best way to celebrate my birthday? By sharing a new story about my beloved 🥳🫶🏻 I started writing this story back in October after making this gif (that's how Declan looks on this first chapter), and I got so inspired that I even managed to write like a script with everything I wanted to happen from beginning to end, which doesn't happen very often or never tbh 😅 I hope you like it as much as I do, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"And don't forget about the national team staying with us next week. We need to be at our best, the club wants them to keep coming here and not go back to Carrington or any other training centre" our boss says.

"We always are at our best."

"I know, Alex. But you know what I mean.”

"Yeah, we have to kiss their asses" he mutters.

"Shh" I tell him, hoping our boss hasn't heard him.

"You know it's true" he whispers. "Since we don't have enough with our princesses, now we'll have new ones. And I'm sure they are even more annoying."

"If you dislike football and this job so much, why don't you quit?"

"I don't dislike football, Liv. I dislike football players, it isn't the same” Alex says. “And I don't quit because Tottenham is the team me and my dad support, they happen to pay really well, and I need the money. Besides, what will your dad say? He helped me get this job, I can't disappoint him."

"He'll survive" I chuckle.

"I don't think so. If I'm not here, who will make sure his daughter doesn't end up sleeping with a football player? Especially now that we are gonna have some Arsenal ones in the building. They are the enemy."

"That is so stupid."

"The rivalry between Tottenham and Arsenal isn't stupid, Liv. Please show some respect."

"Whatever" I reply, trying to focus again on what our boss is explaining.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ready to meet our new princesses?" I ask Alex.

"No."

"Well, too late. They are here" I say when the doors of the cafeteria open and the players from England's national team start walking in, Harry Kane leading them.

"Urgh, not him" Alex groans.

"Shut up and get to work. And don't forget to smile."

"I don't want to smile at him. Or at any of them."

"Hello, guys. Nice to see you again."

"Harry, hi!" I say. "How are the Germans treating you?"

"Good, all good. How are you around here?"

"All good too" I smile. "Same as always?"

"Same as always, Liv."

After Harry some other players like Rashford, Stones or Bellingham also come get their orders, and then…

"Hi, what can I get… you" I say, getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. 

"A latte, please" he smiles.

"A… a la… a…" I mumble.

"Liv… Liv… Olivia!" Alex says, hitting my arm.

"Ouch! What?"

"His order" he says, nodding towards the blue eyed God in front of me. "Didn't you hear him?"

"I… Yes. A latte."

"That's it" he smiles again, the most stupid giggle ever leaving my mouth. What an amazing first impression, Olivia. 

"I… Umm…" I mumble again.

"Liv, hey! Long time no see!" 

"Madders, we saw each other three days ago" I say, my brain remembering how to work after hearing his voice.

"It feels like an eternity" he smiles. "Have you met Dec yet?"

"Uh?"

"Mr. Declan Rice. The most expensive English football transfer in history" he laughs, wrapping his arm around the blue eyed God's neck and messing up his hair, somehow making it look even better than it already did.

"You… what?"

"You hadn't recognized him?" Madders says. "I know he's had a big glow up, but he hasn't changed that much since the Euros."

"Yeah… I…" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire and the stupidest person in the world. How did I not recognize one of England's best players?

"Anyway, can I get the same as always?"

"He asked first."

"But he plays for Arsenal and I am a Tottenham boy, Liv. What will your dad say?" Madders smirks. 

"Her dad?" Declan asks with a confused look.

"He's been working for Tottenham since before we all were born and hates anything Arsenal" Madders explains. "So if he finds out that you are favouring him over me…"

"You are so annoying, James" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Yet you love me" he smiles. "So, can I get my usual?"

"No" I say, turning around and getting Declan's order ready.

"You are so rude, Olivia…"

"Yet you love me" I reply, making Declan laugh. "Your latte."

"Thank you, Liv" he smiles as he takes his cup, our fingers barely touching but being enough to make my face burn once again. 

"You're welcome" I giggle. You are so lame, Olivia. Dear God.

"Can I get my coffee now or are you gonna keep smiling at each other like two teenagers in love?" Madders asks.

"What?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player, Liv… What will your dad say?"

"Shup up, James" I say, turning towards the coffee machine to hide that my face now must be the same colour as Declan’s Arsenal shirt.

"You are an idiot, bro" I hear him say before walking away.

"What? Why? What did I say? Liv, hey. What did I say?" 

"Just go drink your coffee, James" I sigh.

"But…"

"Go."

"You two are so weird… Made for each other" he winks, making me roll my eyes again.

Once I'm done with all the orders, I can't help but check around the cafeteria looking for Declan. During the Euros he had already caught my eye, but he didn't look as hot as he did right now. He was definitely aging like fine wine. 

When I finally spot him, he's sitting next to other Arsenal players, a soft smile on his lips while sipping his coffee. And then… Then he turns to look at where I am. At me. And his smile grows wider, making my knees feel like jelly. 

"Best coffee ever" he mouths, remarking each word.

"Thank you" I reply, definitely smiling like an idiot.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…"

"Holy shit, Alex" I jump when I hear him next to me.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player at work? And him among them all? Your dad is gonna be so disappointed…"

"Shut up, Alex" I say, giving him a push that doesn't move him from where he is standing. "I'm gonna go check that we aren't running out of anything, you know how picky the boss is with that."

"Yeah, run away."

"Fuck you" I reply, showing him my middle finger and hoping no one from the national team has seen it. The least thing I need right now is someone complaining to our boss because of my bad behaviour.

As I leave, I can't help but look at Declan one last time, and to my surprise, he also is looking at me. And when our eyes meet…

"Holy shit" I whisper. Can you get turned on by a wink? Because I'm pretty sure that just happened.

[river-in-the-woods]

i have a similar situation - i'm struggling to make my own correspondences, and i'm trying to draw from my pagan practices as well as my ancestral asian practice. i'm having a bit of difficulty with systematically going through a small dictionary, but maybe this can provide some ideas (and of course, if you have any critiques, i'm totally open to that as well!)

I usually just pick up any reference book and choose whatever I like the sound of and can get my hands on. I have a copy of The Encyclopedia of Natural Magic by J.M. Greer which I use a lot because it has minimal tangential waffle and is neatly laid out. I like Llewellyn's Charms, Spells and Formulas for the same reason.

For culturally relevant things, I like chinasage which has a symbol index of various flora and fauna. I'm not aware of similar resources for other parts of East Asia, apologies.

While I do think that different materials are endowed with particular virtues, I also think this is another area of magic where people get a little obsessed with categorisation.

It's not like Pokemon where lavender has +10 sleep magic points and chamomile has +12, or roses are exclusively for love and attraction and black pepper is only for cursing and banishing, and so on... It's a little more like cooking where there are many possibilities of creating a satisfying meal and yet it still depends on the individual tastes of who's partaking in it.

Cypress, yew and asphodel are strongly associated with the underworld; mugwort and wormwood are associated with night-time and dreams, but these plants will still die without the light of day. Sunflowers and oranges are very solar, but they still have roots that reach into the earth to anchor them. Chilli peppers are incredibly fiery, but they still die without water. Yarrow is for youth, love and beauty, except when you're allergic to it.

Every herb is a herb for protection, and wealth, and attraction, and fertility, and banishing – and so on, because every plant has its own strategy to survive, thrive and proliferate.

(And that's just plants, not even touching on the properties of minerals, animals, elements, colours and so on.)

They do have their specialisations, yes, and I wouldn't use mint to call on the element of fire, nor would I use coffee beans in a sleep spell... What I'm trying to say is: they're all multi-faceted, so set aside the reference books now and then, and just observe and make connections intuitively.

Reference books might tell you that basil or cinnamon or citrus (or whatever) have wealth-drawing properties.

But grass, plain old common grass, completely dominates the greenery of the earth. Crops like rice, wheat, barley and corn are staple foods that support the world's population. And dandelions, with their solar and ouranic qualities and how quickly they proliferate across an open field, are oft overlooked.

These never get listed in books, yet their literal and symbolic powers are undeniable.

Put these – grass seeds, rice grains and dandelion seeds – into a wealth working with a simple prayer. "Bless me with as much wealth as there are blades of grass on this earth, as there are grains of rice that sustain humanity, as there are dandelion seeds that fill the air in spring."

Correspondences are only part of what makes magic work. There's also your own ability and experience, the spirits you call and the relationship you have with them... I strongly favour the relationship part because reference books become less and less important, when you can just ask and the spirits will tell you what to use. Or even better when you don't have to do a spell at all, because you have spirits to take care of it in exchange for some cake.

It took me a long time to open myself up to receiving that kind of inspiration, but... honestly, don't overthink it. You know a lot of correspondences already because you interact with the world every day.

Good luck 🌿

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU) - Masterlist

With his hammer in his hand/He looked right clever… (‘The Blacksmith’, British or Irish folk song from the early nineteenth century)

Series Summary:

Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798 was brutally suppressed. In this seemingly quiet part of the country, the people work the land and stay quiet about the recent past. You are an unusual woman in this little world: married, but living alone; a widow, with no certainty that her husband is dead. You have made your own life since he vanished into thin air, managing the smallholding you live on and making some extra money through your skills as a seamstress.

This is a time when the local blacksmith is at the heart of any rural community. One such smith is a man of few words, whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals, but whose skills with hammer and anvil have rendered him indispensable. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel on to this man’s forge - and are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure…

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (eventual chapters)

Content: Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; references to violence; references to domestic abuse; period-appropriate terminology and misogyny; anti-Travelling people discrimination; alcohol; strong language; explicit smut (eventually); technical infidelity; almost certainly incorrect depictions of blacksmithing; some slightly dodgy history (I literally took advanced seminars in this topic but come on, it’s fic); most likely some not quite correct Irish language content (again, I studied it for years so forgive me and move on).

Cross-posted to AO3.

Author’s Note: I spotted a sign at Disneyland for ‘Rose’s Forge’ and @julesonrecord and @lunapascal were immediately on the “which P boy would be a blacksmith?” train. And there’s only one answer, isn’t there? It’s Din.

This is intended as a short series of around four chapters - essentially a chance for me to scratch the blacksmith!Din itch, while also indulging in some historical fiction set in my homeland. In part, it’s inspired by the image of the blacksmith in eighteenth and nineteenth century popular culture and their role in supplying rebel weaponry in the 1798 uprising against British rule.

And it’s also inspired by the image of Din sweaty and beautiful at an anvil, because why the hell not?

The image I’ve used for the header image, by the way, is a wonderful engraving from about 1833 by the French artist Eugène Delacroix, who’s one of my absolute favourites. It’s called ‘Un Forgeron’ (A Blacksmith) and you can see it in all its glory here. (Yes, it’s hot as fuck.)

Chapter List:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four