#they couldn't even hear the bastards

[to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky]

fuucck me i'm pretty sure there's some form of rodent(s) living in my walls/ceiling. last time it was squirrels in my floor. now it's the mystery rodent in my ceiling.

[leatherbookmark]

actually i have discovered the only true and correct reading of md/zs: wgxn are the true Evil Men of mdzs. just look at how they’re dealing with lxc post-guanyin

[myladysapphire]

Solace

As the daughter of Alicent Hightower you had been fed stories of your older sister and her children, so when you are bethrothed to Jacaerys you arent too sure as to what to expect, and go into your courtship expecting the worse, only to find out you couldn't have been more wrong.

word count: 5,908

CW: MDI 18+, smut, fluff. p in v, fingering, loss of virginity, oral (f reciving), incest not beta read!

Jacaerys Veleryon x Fem!reader

a/n - no war au

Masterlist

She had been betrothed to Prince Jacearys since they were both children, before most noble children even knew the expectation of one day getting married off and yet since the day of said betrothal, they had not spent a single moment together. Nor had you exchanged a single letter nor a single thought of the other, at least she had not. 

In all honesty she had simply lived as if he and their impending marriage did not exist, so when he returned for his brother's hearing and for their courtship to officially begin, they were at a complete loss of where to begin, they knew of no common interests, and there family’s had been pitted against each other their entire lives.  Seeing as they had never been close in their youth, nor present much time together, seeing as she had kept to herself or Heleana, and Jacearys having spent most of his time with his brother and hers.

She had always preferred solitude, preferred to keep to her books, painting, and her beloved dragon Gaelithox. Gaelithox perhaps the only being she would spend day after day with willingly. 

she had hoped he would be similar. Though from what she could remember, he always seemed to find himself surrounded by others, not once does she remember seeing him alone. Perhaps if she had then she would have gotten to know him. But for her crowds were her worst fear, talking to more than one person or anyone was really. But Jacearys was always the centre of attention, with his good looks and charisma, it seemed he never begged for attention, it just always simply found him. She hoped marrying him would not force her to become the same.

How they expected her to one day be queen confused her. With Jacearys as the future king she would have all these responsibilities and have to do everything she hated. Her mother had made sure to tell her that, to start to show her what would be expected of her.

For all she knew it was a scare tactic from her mother, y/n knew her mother hated them, she would call them bastards and would whisper in her ear more and more rumours about her eldest sister and her eldest son. 

So, when he arrived all she could do was watch him. Scared to start a conversation, and too nervous to make any moves towards him. So she stood from the sidelines as he found himself surrounded by the keeps inhabitants. 

As she watched him at dinner, following lucerys victory of being declared the future lord of the tides, she very much doubted he would like solitude as much as she did. The few moments where he found himself not in conversation, he almost seemed nervous. She feared he would never understand her fear of crowds, or her hate for balls and feasts. Nor understand what her mother referred to as her quirks. He was loud and charismatic, all traits she lacked. He was drawn to crowds and seemed to thrive at the events she hated. But he seemed to suffer in the moments she loved the moments alone, the quiet moments.

She had been forced to sit away from her usual seat and sit nearer to the centre, a place where all eyes were on her. She sat opposite her eldest sister, Rhaenyra, with Jacearys on one side, and Aegon on the other. 

Aegon had been making crude jokes all evening, whispering and taunting her. Though she had become extremely talented at ignoring him, it was starting to bug her, and all she wished was to retire to bed. 

Luckily, he seemed to be the only one interested in her, until Rhaenyra decided to start a conversation with her. She had never really known her eldest sister, having always been stopped by her mother. She remembered when her and Rhaenyra would have bi-weekly garden tea, until her mother found out and banned her from even going near Rhaenrya chambers.

Over the years her mother had told her only the worst about Rhaenyra, and forced her own hatred or mayhap envy of her onto y/n. And yet she only ever seemed to be kind to her when they did interact. 

“Sister?” y/n heard her call out.

“Yes princess?” she responded, stuttering from being addressed. 

“Are you quite alright, you look quite pale?” her face was concerned, as did Jaceaerys when he turned from his seat to face ger at his mother’s words.

“i-“ you looked down starting to pull at the skin on your fingers, “i do not find i fit in well in such gatherings, it's just stress” she spoke, voice shaking as y/n looked down and bringing her fingers to her mouth biting the skin around them.

“Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?” She heard Jacearys ask in concern. 

At this her mother’s attention was captured, as she snapped her head around, ending her conversation with her grandsire, in doing so capturing the whole tables attention “what’s wrong dearests?”

“i- i would like to retire mother?” y/n almost begged, desperate for the offered reprieve.

“of course Aem-“her mother began, before being interrupted, clearly offering Aemond to escort her to her chambers. 

“I shall escort her,” Jacearys interrupted, standing from his seat and offering his hand that

she took it nervously.  These were the most words either had spoken for each other, at least that she could remember. 

Walking down the halls of the keep, she found herself in a comfortable silence.  Though Jacearys seemed to find it rather uncomfortable as he began to ramble on about gods knows what.

“so i told Luke -“

She hummed, responding to a question she probably heard minutes ago, she hated to admit it but she was seriously struggling to follow whatever he was talking about. The topic of which changed near every second. 

He stopped walking suddenly, causing her to be pulled back as their arms were still interlinked. He seemed to finally realise he was talking nonsense and had lost her completely “I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling on and you can’t even follow a word of what i was saying i-“ 

“oh no i- i, well yes, but I believe you are just nervous… as am il” y/n spoke softly. 

He nodded, “your right, i- i have been trying to think of anything i know about you, any shared memories and yet i can not find a single thing” he shook his head, seemingly ashamed.

“oh well… we never really talked until today, i always much preferred my own company to that of others”

“oh i- really?” he sounded confused as if spending time by himself was beyond him.

“i always found i was always more myself when with others, in fact i find myself nervous when I am alone '' he spoke, slowly making sure not to ramble on once more.

“I suppose I have never found such solace with another person as to feel myself with another person” you looked down, she too seemed so polar to one another and feared her solitude would always be interrupted once she married him. 

“I understand that, Luke is the same way” he looked at her then, “i hope that i can be the person you find solace in, one day..” he took her hands, stoking them softly, it was always a hard thing for her, touch. Always avoiding it, and only taking hugs to shaking someone’s hand when she knew social construct dictated she should. And yet with him it was fine it seemed nice almost, something she could get used to, even find solace in.

“I would like that”  she nodded, and he gave her a sweet smile, relief almost washing over his face. He took her arm once more and led her back to her chambers, this time instead of rambling, he simply asked her questions about herself, and for once she happily answered them.

The next day she was awoken to the sound of rapped knocks on her door. Though she normally slept in, it was still rather early for such a thing. Opening the door she saw Jacaerys standing with a bouquet of flowers, more specifically peonies, a flower that you would often find embroidered on several of her dresses. 

“Prince-“

”Jace” he interrupted “ please call me Jace, we are to be a married soon it is only right” 

“Jace” she said slowly, getting used to the informality she lacked with even her own family , “what are you doing here so early?” 

“Early?” he laughed, as if if the idea that nine in the morning could ever be considered early,  “i suppose it could be”

”Why are you here?” She asked, almost irritated.

“Sorry,” he spoke, reaching his arm out to present her with the peonies'' i simply came to ask if we may break our fast, with the hope you had yet to eat and yet it seems i woke you,” he shook his head “i apologise, i am used to waking up early for training. I should have thought you may have preferred to sleep in” he looked down nervously.

Sniffing the flowers, she moved into her room, leaving the door agar as an invitation for Jace to come in. ”I would like that” she nodded, “Though this is still rather early for me, so i shall need to call my maids to help me dress and prepare our breakfast”

”early?” He again asked, “what time do you normally wake?”

”Mostly before noon, but not before 10,” you looked up with a small smile, “i find i can sleep the days away if allowed, it is one of the few things i can never seem to get enough off”

He laughed, the nerves leaving him slightly. “I find i am always awake by eight, at the latest, sadly i do not possess the same skill to sleep in, a skill i am much jealous of.” He smiled, “ i shall have the guards fetch your maids and order breakfast, and perhaps tomorrow we may share lunch instead” 

“I would like that,” she nodded.

Their fast was spent with the exchange of shy smiles and timid questions asked, as time went on  they grew more comfortable and found their rhythm, and she found the tiredness she felt from talking to others never came. 

The next moon was perfect, each day she would wake, dress, then Jace would meet her and she broke her fast and he took his second meal. Then they would walk the gardens. After a few days, she confessed how typically she would ride Gaelithox the second she awoke, and soon they found they were going for dragon rides every morning. Vermax and Gaelithox enjoying each other's company. Every second was filled with chatter, and those few that were not, neither felt any awkwardness, just contentment, solace.

They seemed to spend almost every second of every day with each other and yet she not once found it tiring, or wished for a reprieve, she simply wished for more.

There were even days where she wished for no talking and Jace was more than happy to spend the whole day in silence, simply enjoying each other's company, as they went about their own tasks.

She felt as if she was learning everything there was to know about him, through his stories she felt as if she knew his brothers, his family, like she had grown up with them , and not just watching them. She learnt his quirks and he learnt hers. And every day they seemed to learn something new. 

But today was the first day she would spend without him since his arrival, with her father , the king, asking for Jace to accompany the small council meetings from now on. 

So she had planned to spend the day alone, resuming her old daily routine even on the days where Jace was not in her company. 

That was until her mother decided to skip the small council meeting and spend the day with her.

”Do not ever trust them, dearest” her mother tutted, brushing through her hair. “They only wish for you and he to grow close so when the time comes you are on their side-“

She had tried to tune her out, but the instant comments answered messing with her head. She felt as if she was falling in love with Jace and yet they way her mother spoke of him, it was as if he was worse than Aegon, a fact she knew was not true.

“mother!” she finally  snapped , shaking her head she pulled away from her mother, “i do not care! Jace shall be my husband and as you have reminded me since the day I first bleed, that my duty is to my husband and his family before my own.” she then whispered to herself “a fact you do not follow yourself” continuing she said “ so why now when it is the son of the woman you despise, am I to do the opposite?” It was so out of character for her and yet years and years of hearing the words bastard and betrayal and whispers of war, she was finished. 

She fully pulled away from her mother and stood up, straightening her dress, “this past moon i have felt more seen and known by Jace than anyone my whole life. My whole life I have detested company, and chatter, and have at any and all attempts avoided events. and now i find the one person i do not detest, and would falsely attend any event he wishes me to, someone i enjoy spending time with, my future husband! You wish to ruin it for me! Do you not want me to be happy?” She nearly yelled, her face turning from the sweet, shy and docile face it had always been had turned angry “you clearly do not wish for Heleana to have happiness, as clear with her marriage to Aegon at three and ten!” She was steaming, years of biting her younger so as to not gain attention, or do more talking that’s necessary, bitterness flowed through her.

”dearest i-“ her mother started, moving towards and reaching for her to pull her in a hug, only to be met by an instant rejection.

”I simply wish for whatever war you are making up in your head to end, so you can finally allow me the happiness I deserve!” And with that she walked about, only to be met with Jace and Rhaenyra's face as she walked out. 

Jace chased after her, leaving his mother left to deal with Alicent.

”y/n” he called out, “y/n stop!”

“No, I can't,” she said as she continued down the halls, though she did slow down, allowing Jace a chance to catch up with her. “if i stop walking I’ll march right back in there and apologies!” she proclaimed.

“I'm sure you won't, you did the right thing '' Jace spoke, still trying to catch up with her.

“i have bite my tongue my whole life, never expressing my thoughts or opinions, and today i did!” she spoke, as she realised she was walking towards Jace’s chambers. She didn’t even think of where she was going, having stormed out of her own rooms, it seemed that in this past month his room had become a comfort to her.

Finally catching up in time to open the door to his rooms. “y/n you don’t have to explain, you didn’t do anything, you just spoke up for yourself and…for me” y/n swear she saw him blush.

“i know it was hard for you, that talking and expressing yourself is something your struggle with…but you stood up for yourself it’s nothing you have to feel bad about it’s something you should be proud of” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips “and in all honestly  i was rather impressed”

“you where?” she blushed, stepping one closer. 

he nodded, “ you know me and my mother were coming to your chambers to discuss the wedding” he said wrapping his arm around her waist. a movement and touch she had now grown to love. “ We are to be married in a fortnight” his face moved closer to her.

“We are?” she questioned, her breathing getting heavier. 

he nodded, there faces so close they were sharing their breaths “yes, soon you will be my wife, and i your husband and your mothers silly little rants will have no sway any longer” 

she gasped, he leant forward and finally kissed her, it was soft and sweet, leaving them both a blushing mess. 

The next two weeks moved slowly, filled with wedding planning. 

Her relationship with her mother was strained, finding most of the planning to be with her eldest sister Rhaenrya and even Heleana more so than her own mother. And the few times she was there she simply sent a glare in their direction and took at every laugh and smile.

She found that she rather enjoyed her sister's company, the two having a few similar interests. Rhaenyra seemed kind and cared for her children a great deal and as a result she did with her too. 

She knew her mother cared, but watching her mother interact with Rhaenyra highlighted that most of her mothers objections were actually ones of jealousy. She was Jealous of Rhaenyra and more so of Daemon, as he received more glares the more he and Rhaenrya showed affection to one another. So much jealousy that she swear she saw some longing in her gaze whenever she stared at Rhaenrya.

The day before her wedding she finally found herself alone with her mother though from the way her mother barged into her room she knew the conversation the pair were about to have would not be a pleasant one.

“sit down dearest” she spoke as she herself got comfortable.  Doing as her mother bid, she sat beside her. Her mother quickly took her hand in hers, tight enough that even if she were to recoil it would not break her free. 

“When I had this. Conversation with your sister, she already knew some of what was to come, with her Marrying Aegon, and will he loved to taunt her with the gory details for moons before their wedding” Alicent took a deep breath. “On the morrow you will be wed, and with that shall come some expectations” 

she nodded, not quite sure what her mother meant. “not only will you be taking on some of my duties but there is also the expectation of an heir…” she looked at her then, expecting her to interrupt in some way. She stayed quiet, she knew she would have to have children but how the act itself was done was peculiar to her.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, “once you are wed the marriage must be consummated” she awkwardly grabbed at her hands, “it will be uncomfortable but some pleasure can be found in the act” she sent her mother peculiar look, causing her mother to cough uncomfortably and once again move to explain “your husband will…insert himself in you, and spill his seed, allowing a babe to be made, though it can take some time so i shall prey you are lucky and conceive soon…”

she looked down quietly “mother “she spoke slowly, “Aegon is my brother, though he and i aren’t close i have…walked in on him numerous times, time enough to know what sex is” 

Her mother was shocked, looking down and shaking her head, “your brother has no shame-“

“mother, i also have a septa who taught me” she laughed, Heleana only did not know because she was young mother, i am aware, in fact me and-“ she cut herself off not wanting her mother to become more shocked at hearing how her and Jace have already talked of the wedding night.

They were both inexperienced, though Jace had been taken to brothels by Daemon he had never actually done anything, wanting to save himself for his wife. A fact she was most happy about. 

She loved Jace, she realised. He was everything she did not expect, though he was chatty and loud, he was also kind and sweet, a perfect gentleman. She and him had more in common than not, they both loved to read though Jace found little time to do so, so was more than happy to listen to her ramble on and on about the last book she read. She had shown him how to paint and draw, a skill he, though terrible at, found rather enjoyable, especially when he got the flicking paint at her. She herself had even found she loved a few of his hobbies or well if you can call sword fighting a hobby. 

she remembered the morning, it was still early in their courtship, the first week in.  She and Jace had yet to sleep and yet they could see dawn breaking through the windows in his room. They had spent the whole day and night talking, getting to know each other. “it’s dawn already?” Jace sighed as he moved from his spot on the sofa. she sighed from the movement, missing his warmth. 

“it’s seems so” she hummed 

“it’ll be time for training soon.” he spoke, not necessarily to her. 

“Do you train alone?” 

“Here I do, On Dragonstone Daemon is typically dragging me and Luke out of bed the second the sun begins to rise but here he has no desire to train” he looked at her, “why don’t you join me?” he asked.

“i have never even touched a sword” she exclaimed, as if the idea was a mad one.

He grinned “exactly, it’ll be most entertaining!”

she laughed, “fine, but you must promise to show me your high Valyrian!” y/n declared, he had been complaining how bad his Valyrian was but refused to show her, despite her being fluent and offering to teach him.

He sighed, then a big grin filled his face “very well, let us teach one another, i teach you in swordsmanship and you teach me high Valyrian” 

she laughed “very well! though i make no promises to these swordplay lessons!”

They met again in the training yard, both in training clothes. She had borrowed hers from Jace and she was sure he was trying to sabotage her. His clothes hung from her in an almost comical way, he himself had laughed as she nearly tripped netting the training yard.

“you look beautiful” he said though his eyes were full of mirth as he took in the way his clothes hung from her.

“Perhaps you could have given me some of Luke's clothes instead” she sighed, a frown forming her face as she hung her arm up to show just how big his sleeves were compared to her arms.

“Next time we shall!” he declared, stopping his laughter to then pass her a wooden sword “for now it’s fine.” 

The sword was heavier than she was expecting, as shown by how she nearly dropped it.

“do you do any exercise?” he asked, seeing her near miss with the sword.

she scoffed “no, do i look like someone who does?” she asked bewildered.

he laughed “no i suppose not, and knowing you it doesn't surprise me that you do not” he took the sword off her “perhaps we should start with some exercise”

“what?” she asked, she hated doing anything that could be remotely referred to as exercise. 

“Don’t worry, just some light exercise, to build stamina”  he looked at her then, something passing through his eyes. something she had yet to see. 

He had made her run ten laps, stretch in more easily than she knew possible, And then finally let her hold the sword. “You know I was hoping you wouldn’t take this so seriously” she sighed, hitting the dummy repeatedly. Jace corrects her technique with each hit. “really?”

“Of course not, when you said it I had hoped we would just be jesting around” she sighed dramatically, before moving to place the sword down on the rack. “I think that this ‘lesson’ is over.” she started to walk away only for Jace to grab her arm.

“Wait!” he said, pulling her back to him gently. “Are you really not enjoying yourself?” he asked with a sad smile on his face. 

y/n sighed, before a small smile graced her face “no, but perhaps hearing you speak some high Valyrian may make it more joyous.” she spoke, though she was enjoying herself a little, though it would definitely not be a hobby she would be taking up, though watching him practice his swordsmanship, that is a hobby she will be taking up.

“I- really?” he asked, his face unsure, “nyk-e don’t ȳdragon ziree sȳr”

She laughed, his accent and pronunciation were all over the place, perhaps she was better at swordsmanship after one lesson that he was at high Valyrian after years of lessons, “it’s gaoman daor ȳdragon ziry sȳrī”

I do not speak it well

“See what I mean!” he exclaimed, as she continued to laugh.

“oh Jace, gaomagon daor worry nyke sure kesā jiōragon sȳrkta isse daor jēda” she taunted. 

do not worry I’m sure you will get better in no time

“I have no idea what you just said '' he sighed, shaking his head, “but at least i can hold a sword properly” he taunted back to her.

“Hey! It's my first lesson, have you been learning high Valyrian for how long?” she questioned, a gleam in her eyes.

“hāre jēdri” he replied, a smile as he realised he had pronounced it correctly

Three years

She hummed, beginning to circle him, “hāre jēdri? funny seeing hae heleanas riñar ȳdragon sȳrkta eglie valyrain than ao se issi balrey hāre pōntāla”

three years? Funny seeing as Heleanas children speak better high Valyrian than you and they are balrey three themselves

“I- well, stop taunting me!” he protested.

“Only if we can stop this, will I have reached my yearly exercise limit.. For the year!” she joked, dramatically falling, conveniently into his arms. 

“Fine, fine!” he said, “but you can not mention to anyone about my high Valyrian.” he brought her back to her feet.

“Oh please who would i tell? se lo nyke gōntan, skorkydoso would ao sesīr gīmigon?” she laughed, starting to walk away, only to have Jace chase her back all the way back to her chambers.

and if i did, how would you even know?

It was safe to say she never participated in his training again, but on the odd days she was awake when he went, she found she did in fact enjoy watching him.

It took a few attempts before they found a hobby they both loved equally. Painting. She had been painting for as long as she can remember, Jace however had taken it up about two weeks ago, but seemed to love it as much as she.

“Let's paint each other!” Jace declared, as he saw the paints y/n left out. 

She hesitated, “have you ever painted before?”

“No, but how hard could it be?” She laughed at that, but said nothing.

They sat opposite each other, their art facing only themselves. They gave themselves an hour before they would show each other what they had painted. 

Jace went first. He seemed so proud of himself. To give him credit it was fairly good, though it looked nothing like her. 

“It's good!” she exclaimed, “i like it” she reached forward to grab it “i shall have it framed” she hummed. Jace smiled widely at that.

“Show me yours!” he asked, or more declared as he turned the canvas around himself. 

His face was shocked, mouth wide, “i- wow” he was at a loss of words. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed, his face one of awe, “and you said mine was good!, you were lying!”

She laughed, “no-no it is, i promise” i grabbed his art then, comparing the two, before throwing his on the floor, “oh please, mine is rubbish, yours is wow! I think it shall become my official portrait!” he exclaimed standing up and walking to the doors with it. 

“woah ! where are you going?” she asked standing up to follow him.

“Too show everyone” he stated as if it was the obvious answer.

He showed it to everyone he saw, a blushing y/n on his tail.

“Mother.” she spoke, back once more in the present, “i trust him, more than anyone and anything” at that her mother relaxed, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, she saw a real smile gracing her mothers face.

The day of the wedding came, she had expected nerves and jitters, and yet all she felt was contentment. She knew she was lucky, most brides barely knew their husband before they wed them, and she knew Jace and he knew her. She knew his quirks, his hobbies, and he knew hers. They were polar opposites, and yet they fit so perfectly together. She was excited for this day, and as was he.

The dress she wore was her mothers dress. A white dress with sleeves coming down to her elbow before dropping down to the length of her dress showing a deep red. On her shoulder sat two dragons, dragons she had changed to represent Vermax and Gaelithox. The dragons were joined together and connected in an intricate pattern on her bodice. She wore no jewellery, only a small head piece, woven into the braids on her hair.

“You look beautiful” her mother declared. “Are you ready?”

y/n nodded, taking one final look at herself in the mirror, one last time before leaving her room.

The wedding was a blur, it went by so fast and before she knew it, Jace and her were declaring their love and sealing it with a kiss. They exchanged giddy smiles as they left the 

sept, their hands never wavering from their grip. The night celebrations went by quickly. The only time they never once left each others sides. It was the first event y/n ever truly enjoyed, they had danced four times that night, feasted to their heart's content, and enjoyed the first few hours of being newlyweds. 

Then it was time for the bedding. She had never been more grateful than when Jace shouted at the men attempting to drag her away, and he himself picking her up and taking her to their now shared chambers. 

“I am sorry for that.” he spoke, taking her hand in his, “I had made it clear we would not have a bedding, but -”

“Aegon had other plans' ' she interrupted, “do not worry, it's just who he is' ' she laughed.

For the first time in weeks the silence between them was awkward. Both knowing what was to come, but not how to start.

After a few moments Jace finally moved forward, he reached for her slowly, one had wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to caress her face. They both looked at each other shyly, before Jace moved in closer, his lips capturing hers. It was soft and slow.

His lips still joined with hers they moved further into the room, his hand moving from her waist to her back, reaching and slowly unlacing the binds of her bodice.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, breaking away from her lips.

She nodded, “yes.”  As she slowly reached to pull of her dress, leaving her in just her chemise.

Jace groaned his pants tightening, he reached forward once again capturing her lips in his.

 They slowly moved towards the bed, her hands reaching towards his clothes, slowly taking them off and leaving him in his small clothes.

There lips breaking apart, they both took each other in, before finally lying on the bed. Jace continued to kiss her slowly moving from her lips to her neck, his hands reaching down to her should and moving the straps of her chemise down, revealing her breasts.

“gods” he groaned, “you’re so beautiful” he said as he moved down to kiss her breasts. Slowly moving down her body, removing her chemise as he did, leaving her bare beneath him.

He was level with her heat, he had heard of kissing there and the thought of tasting her in such a way made a groan escape him. “Can I?” he begged, unsure of what he meant y/n nodded.

Jace dived in, giving a cautious lick through her folds, he groaned at the taste and quickly went back licking and tasting like a starved man. She herself was moaning in pleasure, her hands clutching the back of his neck, tightening when he finally found her bud.

Releasing the reaction form touching the small bud of nerves, he made sure to focus his efforts on it, sucking it into his mouth, and bringing his fingers up to her entrance, beginning to circle her juices and slowly tease his way into her.

Tensing at the feeling of the intrusion, she gripped further onto him, and started to move away. With his spare hand he gripped onto her and pulled her back to him. His finger now pully in he instead started to focus his intentions of pumping them in and out of her. Causing her to start moaning once again in pleasure, even more so when his second and third finger entered her. Soon she was reaching her peak.

He slowly backed away from her, pulling down his small clothes to revel his hard, thick long length.

“gods” they both groaned at the sight of the others naked body. He slowly crawled back onto the bed, his body covering hers. He once again took her lips with his, in a passionate and heated kiss, his legs slowly parted hers as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he once again asked, caressing her face.

She nodded, covering the hand on her face with her own and reaching forward to kiss him again, “yes” she consented.

He nodded, kissing her once more as he slowly entered her.

She groaned at the stretch, feeling at slight sting as he slowly entered her. Her face contorted in quick discomfort, but quickly faded as he settled himself fully inside her, allowing her time to adjust.

“gods, you feel amazing” he groaned, moving his head to her neck. “can I move?” he groaned, near begged.

“yes” she said, and he wasted no time, slowly pumping in and out of her. Slowly the discomfort faded and all she could find was pure pleasure.

Moving in and out of her, Jace was moaning, kissing her neck with each thrust, he had never felt such pleasure as he did in this moment.

Slowly picking up the pace, he soon found that sweet spot inside her, that turned her into a moaning mess. Wrapping her arms around his neck she was soon grinding her hips against his, chasing her peak, and he was soon reaching one of his own, spilling his seed inside of her.

Slowly pulling from her, her moved to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her towards him, he kissed her slowly and whispered, “I love you”. In that moment she felt what could only be described as solace.

That night, they did not sleep a wink, nor would they in the moons that followed. Their marriage was a harmonious one, one of love and joy. And when the king finally passed, and Rhaenrya was queen, there was no division of factions of house Targaryen, she liked to think that their marriage has helped branch the units, and make them once more a family.

Even more so when nine moons after their wedding she birthed their first child.

Taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99

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[sugugasm]

☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

[baeshijima]

— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[jellinuy]

trapezing the line between a good nap and staying awake, laid atop your boyfriend's chest, curled up in his t-shirt with droopy eyes — that was your picture-perfect setting. it's late afternoon, the blue of the sky bleeding into pink and orange giving the living room that oddly-nostalgic ‘early evening’ glow. satoru, pretty ocean eyes focused on the top of your head and the visibility of drool through your slightly-parted lips, rambles on about something — or maybe it's nothing; he loves to hear himself talk. your body is too lead-heavy to care, anyway.

“…’nd you're so pretty," he murmurs against your hair, voice fuzzy, soft kisses punctuating just how much his sweet nothings really meant something. “i don't mean jus’… pretty, i mean like out-of-this-world, baby.” another kiss. “every star in the world could come out all at once” — another kiss — “and none'd be half as gorgeous, 'm so serious.”

he'd only really soften like this when you were asleep and he was sure you couldn't hear him.

“how’d a bastard like me end up with an angel like you, huh?”

satoru would tell you all the things he normally couldn't say when you were conscious — at least, not without hiding it behind some stupid joke or unserious comment or goofy smile.

“i’m so shitty at playin’ it cool,” he chuckled, fingers slipping under your back, tracing his love for you into the skin curled around your spine. “i dunno how you haven’t caught on yet, pretty girl. i’m a fuckin’ mess when it comes to you.”

these were things he could say raw and unfiltered and without having to worry about defacing them with humor and brushing it under the rug. it was easier to tell you while you were asleep. you couldn’t proved he’d ever waxed poetic to you, because, 1.) nobody would ever believe you, and 2.) he’d just blame it on your grogginess and never bring it up again.

you stir at the familiar tingles that shoot up your vertebrae, lashes still resting against the sun-coated apples of your cheeks when you hum, “mm?” so sweetly, because you thought you’d heard him say something. satoru’s body melts into a puddle: “nothin’, baby.” lithe, gentle fingers swirl from your spine, back over your shirt, and across your scalp to lull you back into your nap, hoping you couldn't hear the bass drum that had replaced his heart when you'd woken up.

he kissed your head. drank you in in a way he could never even verbalize if he tried. “nothing,” he repeated. another kiss. “go back to sleep.”

[pearlymel]

Need to know !

sum. That dick is a ten out of ten! Calm down girl, they're yours.

pairings. Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne.

warnings. NSFW, MDNI, threésome, oral sēx (m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sēx, slight nipple play, no plot. 1.4k words.

notes. Sylus x zayne next??? Jk.... Unless.....

How did you even find yourself in this situation?

But were you complaining? No.

“You both need to calm down,” you glance at both men, hands firmly on their arms as you find yourself almost particularly sandwiched by them.

"Easy for you to say." Zayne spoke first, he would never admit it out loud, but god, he couldn't help but immediately relax under your touch. Sylus, on the other hand, was more cocky.

Instead of relaxing like Zayne did, he leaned down, tilting your face upwards to look at him. His smirk widening, "How could I possibly be calm when I'm about to get you all to myself? I feel like I already won.”

Zayne races you first before you could even reply to him, “we're supposed to be sharing.” Zayne pointed out with a stern look to Sylus, who was already crawling on top of you to hold you closer.

“We are sharing." Sylus' eyes darkened. His voice was so smug, it sounded downright mocking. But he wasn't looking at Zayne, he was looking at you. He leaned right next to your ear to whisper, "You don't mind us sharing, do you, sweetheart?”

You could literally feel the shiver running up your spine. Too weak to answer back, you only nod slowly.

Zayne could only watch as Sylus smirked and leaned down to capture your mouth in a deep kiss. Sylus' hand moved to your jaw, keeping your head tilted up before running his thumb to your lower lip to pry your lips open as his tongue slid into your mouth.

It's like he wanted Zayne to hear the quiet sound of your gasp, of you melting into the kiss, and of you letting out a whimper only he could hear.

Zayne held back a sigh as soon you slipped your hand under his shirt, reaching out for him, feeling your hand against his chest. He was desperate to touch you, however, his patience was thin. He would get his turn.

It was Sylus who broke the kiss first, "You're so easy to get riled up. I could watch you like this all night, but I know someone who's dying to taste you for himself, Sweetie.”

Zayne's hand wasted no time to your face to cup your jaw. Lifting your head up to him as he kissed you. He kept his tongue in check, as much as he enjoyed having you whine into his mouth. He was so damn jealous, it was almost unbearable.

"Well, well, well," Sylus drawls, "looks like our girl is enjoying the attention." He lifts your shirt before trailing a finger in between your already bra less breasts, and down to circle yournavel teasingly.

Zayne scoffs when he leaves your lips for a moment, "of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?" He leans back in to capture your mouth in another dance of a dizzying kiss.

You didn't even know what was going on. You were in an entirely different world.

Sylus chuckles, "Jealous, Zayne? Don't worry, there's plenty of her to go around." To prove his point, he dips his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently. And you arch your back while gasping against Zayne's mouth how kept a firm hand on the back of your head.

Zayne's hand soon joins the stimulation of rolling your other nipple, his hand giving your breast a firm squeeze and you whine softly with a whisper of his name.

"Heard that, pretty boy?" Sylus cooed in a low, mocking tone, his red eyes flickering up to Zayne.

Zayne would have rolled his eyes if he had the willpower to look away from you. But as he mouthed and nipped at the skin of your neck, he simply huffed in annoyance, "Shut up, you smug bastard.”

Sylus only grinned against your skin, giving your tits one last kiss before lowering his head down to tear your panties down using his teeth, “lift up, sweetie," he instructs, and you complied.

Sitting up, he presses your legs apart to take a better look at your weeping cunt, "Come closer, sweetheart. Come here.”

Zayne already had you on his lap, slightly grinding his hips up to your ass, while Sylus pressed himself right onto your pussy, making you completely sandwiched between both men.

Your arms are wrapped around Sylus’ neck while your head is rolled back to Zayne's shoulder as you pant and moan into the air everytime Sylus would bump his clothed dick against your clit.

“F-fuck me—” you whisper breathlessly, mostly to yourself, but it makes both men snap.

“you heard her.”

You gasp when your vision flips upside down, Sylus and Zayne effortlessly positioning you on your hands and knees with your ass presented perfectly in the air.

They're both… well… naked, and you feel like you're going to die any second if you take them both.

Your eyes squints, and your lips part involuntary when you feel Sylus’ fat tip push inside your welcoming cunt.

Meanwhile Zayne’s cock is literally right on your face, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head towards his cock. "Tell me if it hurts," he whispers softly to you, and you look at him through half-lidded glossy eyes.

Fuck, Zayne can't ruin such an angelic face.

But once you take him into your mouth, he immediately forgets everything.

You moan around him, the taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue. At the same time, you feels Sylus thrust into you from behind to fill you completely, making you feel like the air has been taken out of your lungs.

"C-careful,” Zayne hisses, and Sylus only groans, setting a steady rhythm as he starts pounding into you. Each thrust forcing you deeper onto Zayne's cock, and you struggle to breathe, to the point tears gather around your eyes.

Zayne tugs on your hair gently, guiding your movements. "That's it, you're doing well," his praise shoots right to your fluttering pussy, and his hips rock slightly to meet your now eager bobbing head. "So good, pretty.”

You whimper around him with every praise Zayne send to you, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. You can feel herself getting close, the dual stimulation of Zayne's cock in your mouth and Sylus' in your tight hole was pushing you closer to release.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, muffled moans, and the creaking of the bed. Everything sinful all at once.

Sylus leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he buries himself deeper. "Come on," he urges, his hand snaking around to rub your clit. "Come for us. Let us feel you. How good we make you feel.”

With those words, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you, you cry out around Zayne's cock, your pussy clenching and creaming around Sylus as you come undone.

Zayne lets out a half moan as your constricting throat triggers his own orgasm, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he spills his seed down your throat. “S-sorry, love. Just swallow it all for me, okay?" He holds your head in place as he rides out his orgasm, his eyes rolling back slightly.

Sylus doesn't slow his pace just yet, continuing to pound into your fluttering pussy. "Not yet, you don't get to rest," he growls, his fingers pinching your overstimulated clit harshly. "I'm not done with you yet."

You cry out again, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. You try to focus on pleasing both of them, licking and sucking at Zayne's softening cock which makes him hiss quietly, and Sylus' relentless thrusts make it difficult to concentrate.

Your eyes widen when you feel Sylus' cock twitch inside you, his hot cum spurting into you.

As both men pull out, you feel empty, their combined release dripping down your thighs, and some on the corner of your mouth.

Zayne’s ears redden as his eyes roam over your cum-covered body. "You look…” he trails off, and he brings a thumb to wipe your lips.

“Gorgeous.” Sylus continues with a hum, making you pout before covering your face with your arms.

“now, now, looks like her highness wants more attention.” Sylus dips back next to you, taking your body and pulling your back against his chest. Zayne huffs before he joins you both, laying infront of you and pressing your face gently against his chest.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pure intense fluff, kissing, cuddling, squeezing, handsy pouty bastard, insisting you’ve been neglecting him, his is dying and it’s all your fault, how dare you do this to him, he will hold you accountable for your heinous crimes by cuddling you, toji is going soft for you, established relationship

Standing in front of your vanity, slipping your earrings off, sticking them with the rest. Glancing into your vanity mirror when Toji emerges from the bathroom.

Arms crossed over his bare pecs sticking his bottom lip out in his adorable pout. It’s one of your favorite Toji expressions. He huffs, “Finally someone figures where they live.”

He unzips the back of your dress. “You weren’t here!” kissing your shoulder. Slipping it down your body, trailing gentle sloppy kisses down your back. “The house was so empty and cold, I was dying of loneliness little mama.”

Stepping out of your dress, he tossing it into the hamper beside the bedroom door. “Is it even a home without you there?” His warm fingers brushing against your back unclasping your bra, gliding the straps off your shoulders. His touch comforting.

You insist, “Without you this place is just some walls.” Grabbing his hands, kissing his warm palms. Glancing into the mirror, Toji “It’s also not my fault you showed up two days early. Couldn't rush a planned girl’s night for your needy ass.” Turning around sliding your hand over his thick pecs, broad shoulder and into his soft dark hair.

“Im only needy when it comes you to mama. You’re so cruel neglecting me.” Grabbing your ass, lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his slim waist.

“We aren't leaving for the weekend. Tired of seeing everyone’s ugly ass faces and hearing their annoying ass voices.” He kisses the top of your head. “Just need to spend some time with you mama.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing your tightly.

Wheezing, “I'm all your’s Teddy Bear!” Your back pops several times. Gasping for sweet air when he loosens his gasp.

“Damn right you are.” Kissing along Toji’s jawline, softly biting his pouty bottom lip, melting into his gentle kiss.“It’s not fair mama I can't squeeze you like I want to.” Carrying you through the hallway, towards the living room. “Get good mama, lemme squeeze you tighter.”

“Nah Teddy Bear that’s a you problem.” Squeezing Toji’s slim waist with your legs, tightening your grasp around Toji’s neck. “I can hug you as tight as I want. Ha-ha-haha!” Ripping you off him and throwing you onto the sofa.

“Imma make it your problem little mama.” Carefully falling on top of you, pinning your body with his weight. Resting his head on your chest. “Hahah! Looks whose trapped now! I’m not letting you go anywhere beautiful.”

Pushing himself up, and leaning in for a kiss. “All mine.” Parting your lips, the gentle hunger of his passionate kiss replacing your need for air. Slipping your fingers through his soft dark hair.

When he pulls away, covering your face with kisses. You grin widelyz “I missed ya so much teddy bear, I’m all your’s for the rest of the week. I’ll make sure you get sick of me.” Giving your forehead another gentle kiss, squeezing your hips.

It’s comforting having his heavy weight pressing you into the bed. His large strong hands on your body making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and words ensuring you know how cherished you are.

His cheeks turn pink, spreading across the bridge of his nose, coloring the tips of his ears. “I can never get enough of you.” His eyes widen. “Listen to me, ya made me all mushy, gonna have to hold you responsible. Hmm how should I do that.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

Satoru’s verison!

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[toast-on-dandelioms]

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]

I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two

Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing. 

He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child. 

Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall. 

He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse. 

He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news. 

He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.

As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood. 

As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body. 

Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries. 

He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were. 

They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries. 

"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry". 

He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back. 

He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay. 

He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him. 

He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?". 

Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room. 

He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader. 

He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making. 

He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody. 

Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.

He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him. 

He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him. 

He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes. 

“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”

He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared. 

He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face. 

“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before” 

He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer. 

He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown. 

His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing. 

“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”

The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes. 

“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you” 

He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac. 

“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message” 

Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)

He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.

As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit. 

He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off. 

He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them. 

When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol. 

As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok. 

He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin. 

He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks. 

He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:

"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching  3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."

He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.

"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication." 

Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.

He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up. 

When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out. 

“I call dibs to share my room with them!” 

His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him. 

Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering. 

Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.

“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”

He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision. 

But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out. 

“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion” 

After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to. 

Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.

He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore. 

The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.

He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N]. 

His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room. 

He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name. 

"Master Bruce." 

Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.

"Mast-”

But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms. 

He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression. 

Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."

He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group. 

"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."

He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.

"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part." 

As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it. 

"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."

He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.

"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about.  However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."

He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].

"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”

He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay. 

"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"

Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away. 

"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?" 

He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.

His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train. 

He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud. 

“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?” 

To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay. 

As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something. 

When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door. 

Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room. 

The room is small.

As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic. 

Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric,  and metal constructions everywhere.

It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.

Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.

As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.

Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.

One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.

As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.

Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any  or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk. 

Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile. 

When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room. 

He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner. 

He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school. 

But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages. 

As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them. 

He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before. 

As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room. 

As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop. 

After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.

As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb  bounced out and fell onto the floor,  sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?

He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together. 

When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor. 

He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.

Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background. 

He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.

"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!" 

The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him. 

He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.

The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features. 

"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.

"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"

As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.

"Boris! Tell her!!"

The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life. 

"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!" 

Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter. 

"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”

To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment. 

"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."

Tim watched with a curious smile as  the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.

Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?

He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident. 

As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.

While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard. 

Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital. 

Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.  

When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.

He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet. 

In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders. 

But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back. 

When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said. 

He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore. 

He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its. 

When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos. 

He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man. 

The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N]. 

He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him. 

He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most. 

Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him. 

As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook. 

He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’. 

He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it. 

He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned. 

20-03-XXXX 

Dear Diary

Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object. 

I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him. 

You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much. 

I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them. 

Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham! 

I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him. 

But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes. 

I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence! 

Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince? 

Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited! 

I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up! 

Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke! 

I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja! 

Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read. 

He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris. 

But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool. 

He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed. 

15-04-XXXX 

Dear Diary 

You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him? 

Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”. 

I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!  

Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary! 

I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here! 

It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in. 

I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian! 

I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her. 

Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me. 

Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears. 

He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed. 

Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body. 

As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought 

He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault. 

He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle. 

He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it. 

He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N]. 

When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help. 

He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor. 

Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room. 

“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”

The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft. 

Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room. 

A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.

The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room. 

And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.

"This used to be a storage room."

Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence. 

"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”

Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed. 

He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed. 

He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.  

Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them. 

20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday) 

Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary. 

Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that. 

As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris. 

If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad. 

He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything? 

This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7! 

Well, I’ll tell you when I come back! 

Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing. 

Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women. 

I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom! 

As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there. 

He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it. 

He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around. 

He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist. 

He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life. 

He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her. 

He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line. 

31-09-XXXX

Bruce Wayne is my father. 

I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything. 

At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?

Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..

I don't like Bruce Wayne.

My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me. 

And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.

I don't like Bruce. 

He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children. 

He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom. 

I want to hit him.

It's not her fault. 

How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!

Why does he hate her so much?! 

Why does he hate me?! 

I don't even want to be here! 

I want my mom back! 

I want Boris back! 

I miss my house, I miss my room! 

I hate this.

I hate everything.

I hate him. 

I hate Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read. 

He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them. 

He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom. 

He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month. 

So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends. 

Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them. 

He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago. 

08-07-XXXX

Dear Diary 

As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name. 

This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking. 

I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true. 

I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy. 

Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me. 

I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it. 

I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce. 

I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others. 

What did I even do to them?! 

I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed. 

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.

I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago. 

I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again. 

But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy. 

Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice. 

He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.

The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor. 

You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face. 

You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm. 

You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast. 

You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm. 

After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space. 

As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed. 

You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down. 

You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room. 

You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference. 

You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it. 

You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider. 

When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled. 

Tag List

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[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[pricesprincess]

mdni | part one

"wife? " you hadn't meant to ask that out loud, nor did you mean to add a bite to your tone as you held the spatula when your gaze met john's, hurt gracing your features and a pout on those lips he couldn't get enough of last night.

your dad was oblivious thankfully as his attention turned to the food you were making peeking over your shoulder. he was grateful for you to be staying with him, his cooking skills have never been the best.

john cleared his throat and took a seat on the barstool. "we're in the middle of a divorce, she's been dating her coworker since the beginning of this year." he confessed and explained to you in one breath.

"what? you two have been together for years." it was impossible not to turn around and glance at the man you now felt sympathy for, she was cheating on him and going through a divorce because of it.

before john had the chance the answer the doorbell rang pulling your dad away from the kitchen but not leaving without kissing your head and patting john's shoulder. once the coast was clear you sighed.

a thick tension filled the room as you struggled with what to say.

well, at least he wasn't a cheater. "sorry i didn't tell you doll, i didn't think you were interested in an old man like me anyway, last night took me by surprise." john murmured gazing at you wearily.

"old man? good thing for you that the geriatrics are my thing and i'm sorry to hear your wife is such a bitch, why would she cheat on you?"

your dad seemed to have a knack for interrupting your conversations and you thanked your lucky stars his habit didn't shine it's ugly head last night as you were bouncing up and down his friends dick.

the questions that burned the tip of your tongue were beginning to start to ache, you wanted to know more about john. you were too busy with your mouth on his cock last night to ask anything else.

you two started to flirt a bit after dinner then when your dad went upstairs for the evening your flirting became more erotic and graphic then you finally bared your tits for john and that's how you ended up spread eagle getting your pussy ate like it was his last fucking meal.

you could still feel the soft ache between your legs making you flustered. "duty calls, i have to go in and help real quick. you'll two be okay without me?" your dad asked not knowing about the plans you made.

john answered for you and graciously took the bowl from you daring to give you a wink when your dad's back was turned, it was a bastard thing to do but when your pussy was milking him for everything he had it was too good not to get addicted to.

as soon as the door shut and locked you were on john like a moth to flame, your arms wrapping around his neck to smother him in kisses. "i was going to rip your dick off after i told my dad about last night.'

he held you close as you stood between his spread legs. "last night you barely gave me time to say anything then you were waving your nipples in my face and you started it first sweetheart." john hummed.

"i suppose i did but you were giving me 'fuck me' eyes, and you flirted heavily with me too!" you laughed and tossed your head back making john feel much younger than he has, it's not often he wanted to have sex before but now he wouldn't mind taking you again.

[maidragoste]

Aerion

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Part 3 of I miss you

I honestly didn't think it would take me more than a year to decide if I wanted this to have a happy ending or not lol

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥹🙏🏻💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

The gods are cruel, Alicent Hightower thought as she watched her youngest daughter enter the throne room. The plan was that Larys would get you out of here with Aegon, Jaehaera, and Maelor but of course, the cursed baby had to ruin everything again. You went into labor and couldn't get away.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” said Alicent, horrified as she saw how the traitorous golden cloaks escorted you. It was obvious that you had barely finished giving birth and were brought here to swear loyalty to Rhaenyra. They hadn’t had the decency to let you clean yourself or wait for you to rest. Your always perfect hair was now a mess. Sweat and blood could be seen on your nightgown and legs. Not only that, but you looked like you were about to collapse. If it weren’t for the master holding your body, you probably would have fallen. Even though you wanted to appear strong, Alicent knew you and could see that you were confused and scared. No one should see a princess like that.

Alicent wasn't the only one horrified by the situation. Rhaenyra was too, remembering how she once had to bring Joffrey to the queen after his birth.

But the most shocked one was Jacaerys. For months he had been going crazy because no one could get any information about you, worried about your well-being and it turns out that you were pregnant with his child. He had no doubt that the baby you hold against your chest was his because he knew that if it were another man your family would have instantly made you marry but when it was him, Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's bastard, they hadn't wanted the news to spread.

“This is a shame! We are dealing with a princess of the kingdom!” said Jacaerys furiously at the guards as he approached you, drawing the attention of the court and disturbing the newborn.

“¹Ziry iksos sȳz, ziry iksos sepār aōha kepa,” you whispered, trying to reassure your baby. Jacaerys had missed hearing your voice so much but what moved him most was being called Kepa for the first time. He never thought it would be possible to have this with you, of course it wasn’t the best time being in the middle of a war and the child having been born out of wedlock, but he couldn’t help but feel happy. Was it wrong that after months of so much misery and loss, he felt happy to know that now in the world there was someone who was half the woman he loved the most and half his?

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, ivestragī nyke gūrogon ao naejot aōha chambers. Ao should clean bē se rest” Jacaerys said, ignoring the glances of his mother and stepfather. He knew he would have to have a conversation with them later, but right now all he cared about was you.

You nodded, moving away from the maester and Jacaerys took you in his arms and lifted you being as careful as possible. You felt your body relax as you rested your head against his shoulder. Finally, after months you felt something other than sadness and fear, you felt warm and safe with Jace. You needed him so much during all this time.

Alicent hated Rhaenyra's bastard for dishonoring you, with this scene everyone would now know that your son was his bastard, but as she watched you leave the room in his arms she couldn't help but feel grateful to him for being the only one to come to your defense. She knew you would be safe from Rhaenyra as long as Jacaerys was by your side, he wouldn't allow anything to happen to you.

As soon as the handmaidens left, your old handmaidens before you got pregnant, you burst into tears. Of course, as they helped you bathe you and your baby, you filled them with questions about what had happened during all those months that you were locked away. You knew there was war in your family but it was still a shock to hear about the deaths. You were shocked to hear what they did to your nephew Jaehaerys. Poor Helaena, poor Aegon. Your dear brother was the only one who had mercy on you and came to see you during your confinement. You thought he was angry with you when he stopped coming but in reality, it was because he ended up so wounded in battle that now Aemond is Prince Regent.

The doors opened again, startling you and you instantly rushed to wipe the tears on your face with your hands. Not wanting to show yourself weaker in front of Rhaenyra and Daemon. You turned around and your body relaxed when you saw that it was Jace. The maids must have told him that both you and the baby were already clean. You didn’t think he would come until later. You were sure he would be busy for hours being questioned by his mother and your uncle.

“We will marry and my mother will legitimize our son,” Jacaerys announced, approaching you with a smile, but you could still see the tiredness on his face. You had no idea how he had managed to convince Rhaenyra to accept, but it couldn’t have been easy or a pleasant conversation. He must have had to endure everyone’s reproaches. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you worriedly when he noticed that you were crying.

“Is it safe for us to do that?” you asked instead. You should be happy after all, you always wanted to marry Jaehaerys but now you were just worried “Won’t it make Daemon even angrier? I don’t want our child to end up like Jaehaerys or for Daemon to end up poisoning me so you can continue your engagement to Baela.”

Jacaerys tensed at your words. And his head began to fill with different scenarios with you and the baby hurt or worse dead. He couldn’t bear to live with himself if that happened. He already lost his brothers, he couldn’t bear to lose you and his child. “That’s not going to happen” he declared caressing your hip. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you or our child. I will fight with fire and blood to protect you.”

“We will fight with fire and blood,” you corrected him.

He smiled at you and you couldn’t take it anymore. You kissed him, like you had dreamed of doing for all these months and it felt even better than you remembered. It was intoxicating, passionate, and warm. You wanted to kiss him forever, you would never get tired of the taste of his lips or his touch. You could feel his love and devotion for you and you loved him.

Then the baby started crying and the two of you instantly pulled apart. The two of you looked at each other before laughing at each other for being so scared by a simple cry.

“Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” you replied, feeling your heart race as you watched him take the baby out of the crib. You had thought that Jace would never meet his son and now you were witnessing him holding him in his arms for the first time. Thank goodness you were alone or you would feel foolish for watching with tears in your eyes as Jace held his son.

“What is his name?” Jace asked, staring in wonder into his son’s violet eyes, the same eyes as yours. That seemed to be the only thing you shared because later the baby had his nose and brown hair.

“I haven’t named him yet,” you admitted, feeling embarrassed at the surprise in his eyes. “I was waiting for you to choose his name.”

Of course, you had thought of some ideas during your pregnancy but now that you had Jace by your side you wanted him to choose the name.

“That's kind of you,” he said, feeling touched by such a gesture.

For a brief moment, Jacaerys considered naming him Lucerys but rejected the idea, not wanting his son's name to be laden with sadness and loss. His son is joy and hope in the midst of this dreadful war.

“Aerion,” Jacaerys said finally, kissing his son’s forehead, making a silent promise that he would always keep him safe.

¹It's fine, it's just your father

²My love, let me take you to your chambers. You should clean up and rest

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Part 1

Suguru couldn't believe the words that came out of his best friend's mouth. What the hell did he just say? He was in love... with his sister??? Who, what, when, where, how, and why? Suguru mouth was open in shock as he stared at his best friend. Water dripping down his hand from the water bottle, he crushed.

"You're in love with my sister." Suguru started slowly. "And you decide to tell me right before our game?" He may sound calm to anyone else, but Satoru knows that tone. A tone of an underlying threat. Deadly.

"Would you look at the time our game is starting!" Satoru quickly finished changing and burst out the door before Suguru could chase him. Satoru did not need a beating right before the game. Then again, it was his fault (not that he would admit it) for suddenly blurting out his love confession to your brother.

Throughout the whole game, Suguru was glaring daggers at him. Even when they won the game, the atmosphere filled with cheers and joy, Satoru could feel the cold air radiating off his best friend. He wonders if he could successfully sneak away from his prying eyes to go hang out with you like he promised. First, he needs to find you, push these reporters away, and sneak away with you without Suguru interfering.

Satoru looked around the stadium for you until he finally caught sight of you. He then looked back at Suguru, who was also crowded by reporters. Perfect. The kind, caring gentleman he is won't push these reporters aside! Unlike Satoru, who's always rude, this won't affect his image. It's as if Suguru knew exactly what Satoru was thinking because Suguru immediately pulled out his charming smile to the reporters and said–

"I would love to continue talking to you all, but my sister is here today, and she's waiting for me to go celebrate together. I don't want to keep her waiting." His eyebrows furrows slightly, and his voice trembling. His eyes were glassy like just the thought of not spending time with his sister would make him cry. Being the stupid reporter they are, they believed him. Cooing at him, saying it's alright and how loving he was to want to spend time with his sister. They were charmed by his act. That cunning bastard.

"Since I can't talk to you all, Satoru would love to give an exclusive interview to you all!" This immediately caused all the reporters at him to suddenly rush Satoru, doubling the reporters surrounding him. Suguru smugly smiled at Satoru and mouth–"I'm not stupid Satoru."

He then sees you coming up to your brother, giving him a hug, and a congratulations. How he would kill for you to be next to him right now. For you to say his name and congratulate him. Satoru was going to push away all these reporters at all cost to get to hang out with you, but there was too many. He was getting pushed farther away from you. He could barely manage to hear the conversation the two of you were having.

"Your friend looks like he's suffocating from the reporters Suguru. Don't you think you should do something?" Your eyebrows furrowed in concern for him. "He said he wanted to hang out after the game, too."

"My dear lovely sister, let's go out for some nice fancy dinner tonight to celebrate." Suguru completely ignored your question, put his hand behind your back, and started to push you toward the exit.

Satoru couldn't do anything but watch Suguru push you away from him. This was torture. He finally managed to talk to you. You were so close yet so far away. Shoko did mention how overprotective Suguru was, but c'mon! He is his best friend! Surely he can trust him with his sister! Like what happened to trust!! Where was the trust in this friendship!!! Satoru can feel how happy Suguru was keeping you away from him. His best friend is the incarnation of the devil. He swears it. And on cue, Suguru turned his head around, looked Satoru dead in the eyes, and smiled smugly before exiting with you. Fuck incarnation of the devil. He was the devil.

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