#while still technically ‘accommodating’ them

[dollfacefantasy]

Imagine a private anatomy class with college tutor!Zayne... it would be very educational of course. Just for the sake of medicine and research and having good grades.

zayne x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fingering, possibly incorrect scientific facts (i looked them all up but just in case)

“in order to complete the lesson, you need to remain still,” zayne directed, his voice calm and quiet like it always was.

“‘m trying,” you whined. “you’re not making it easy.”

“i’m doing exactly what you asked,” he said. “you told me you were having trouble retaining the facts from the textbook, even when i read them to you. you said you needed something more hands-on.”

that was true. you had said that on the phone to him last night when you called in a fit of anxiety, stressing beyond a healthy level about your upcoming anatomy test. your professor was a tough grader, it was multiple choice and written, timed as well. you could not get yourself to remember the vocab terms to save your own life (or grade point average).

you’d spent hours upon hours trying to label blank diagrams of the human body, attempting rewrites of your notes from memory, and downloading dozens of practice tests all to no avail.

luckily, you were blessed with a tutor in the form your boyfriend. he’d passed his anatomy courses with flying colors two semesters ago. and he knew you were struggling now. he’d offered to help. you’d just been too prideful and set on succeeding on your own.

however, barely getting by with a C on your last exam broke your will and pushed you to cut your losses. you had to do better next time if you wanted to pass the course with a grade high enough to advance.

this little tutoring session had started off normal. you’d prepped notecards, bookmarked your textbook, and spread an array of highlighters across the coffee table. but somehow you’d still ended up flat on your back with your ass in his lap and his fingers swirling around your clit.

his arm stayed hooked over your waist to keep you secure as he toyed with you. it held you in place despite your attempts to squirm.

“the clitoris has ten thousand nerve endings,” he mused as his fingers danced around your little swollen bud. “it’s the most sensitive organ on a woman’s body.”

“sounds about right,” you whimpered with a pointed look.

a faint smirk ghosted across his lips. “unlike other parts of the reproductive system, its sole purpose is to provide sexual pleasure.”

as a mark of punctuation, he gave your clit a gentle pinch. you arched your back off of the couch below and let out a whine.

he hummed, rewarding your noise with more pressure to that pulsing bundle of nerves.

“you’re getting so wet for me,” he said. his thumb delved lower to rub up and down over your slit.

“fuck,” you mewled. your chest heaved with heavier breaths as your hand came up to rub at your face.

his freehand pet soothing stripes onto your hip. “as you become sexually aroused, glands near the vaginal and urethral openings secrete lubrication-“

“to decrease friction during intercourse and improve the environment for a man’s sperm,” you finished.

“ah-ah. the cervical mucus aides the man’s sperm. technically a different fluid,” he corrected.

“oh whatever,” you pouted.

that smug look on his face grew, and he swiveled his hand so that his thumb was on your clit while his digits were level with your entrance.

“it’s alright, darling. your test isn’t for another week. i’ll make sure you get it by then,” he said just as his index and middle fingers slid inside of you.

a gasp burst from your lips. you shuddered as your body accommodated his intrusion. he pumped them back and forth slowly, giving you time to get used to the feeling.

your walls clenched around him in response. his thumb continued those tight little circles up above.

“fuck, zayne,” you whined.

without missing a beat, he went on. “the depth of the vagina ranges from about two and a half to six and a half inches.”

“wow,” you choked out. listening to his little lessons were beyond you at this point. he could spout off the most nonsensical points and you’d nod along just so he wouldn’t stop moving his hand.

luckily for you, that didn’t seem to be part of his plan. he kept up his movements at a consistent speed. he twisted his wrist, wagging his thumb over your clit. all you could do was dig your heels into the couch and curl your toes.

your body felt hot all over. the heat originated in your belly but it had spread throughout your limbs and up into your chest and neck. the weight of his stare only added to it. his piercing eyes were constantly on you, studying you through those thin glasses as if you were the subject of his teachings.

you had just acclimated to the constant stream of sensations flooding your body when he rotated his arm a certain way and curled his fingers within you. a burst of white hot bliss smacked into you, causing your hips to buck and a loud moan to flow from your mouth.

“did that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, almost mocking.

you nodded eagerly, whining out “mhm” and clutching at his forearm.

“you know, experts debate the existence of the g-spot, but many people report the intense pleasure that comes with stimulating that area of the vagina” he practically purred.

then he nudged his fingers upwards again. and again. you nearly rolled off his lap from the force your body reacted with. his arm tightened around your waist just as your grip on his forearm did.

“are you close to release? your muscles are spasming and your breaths are getting faster. you’re sweating a little too,” he teased.

if it was anyone but zayne examining you so thoroughly, you might have felt embarrassed. but every word spoken in his silky tone of voice brought you closer to the euphoric edge.

you could barely get out a yes before you felt yourself burst. that heavenly feeling crashed into you hard and washed over you slowly at the same time. your heart skipped a beat or two as your lashes fluttered against your waterline.

he continued with his efforts throughout your high, working you through the climax with precise attention.

as you started to come down, he withdrew his digits from your hole and scooped you upright into his lap. his arms wrapped tight around your frame, and his lips pressed gentle kisses onto your temple.

“the quick rushes of hormones during sexual activity can leave you feeling particularly vulnerable afterwards. it’s important to have a partner that cares for you during that time,” he murmured.

you smiled and glanced up at him. “that’s not really anatomy.”

“it’s still important,” he said in return before kissing your lips.

you responded on instinct, and it was then that you realized in this position, you could feel a solid bulge pressing against your ass. you pushed your hips back slightly.

“i wanna care for my partner too,” you mumbled, pulling away to see his eyes.

he met your gaze and cupped your cheek, speaking lowly. “well if you’re in the mood for another lesson, i suppose we could go a little deeper.”

[ambiguous-avery]

Cold Front

Dean Winchester x gn!Reader/You x Sam Winchester | WC: 796

Summary: There are multiple ways to stay warm when it’s cold outside. But nothing quite beats sharing heat with your two life-sized furnaces.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, established polyship, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: As a gremlin with eternally cold toes, I would absolutely use the Winchesters as my personal space heaters. Y’all should know me by now. I love writing the flip side of scenarios! Technically a companion piece to Too Hot to Handle.

It was colder than a witch’s tit.

Whoever made the decision to chase down a vengeful spirit in Wisconsin during one of the worst cold snaps ever recorded in US history was about to have another one on their ass when you inevitably froze to death. The thin motel blanket may as well have been tissue paper for all the insulation it gave you, and no amount of shivering or rubbing your hands together was enough to keep you warm. The thermostat across the room flashed a smug little 53° at you like it hadn’t committed a war crime. 

Even buried beneath the scratchy motel blanket and tucked between Sam and Dean, the cold still found its way to you. Specifically to your toes. You were pretty sure that if you flexed too hard, they’d snap off like the frigid little icicles they were. Sam was turned slightly towards you, chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths and looking unfairly comfortable. Dean was on his back, one arm flung above his head like he was posing for a Renaissance painting.

Both of them were still dressed to the nines, all flannel and denim and comfort. And while you weren’t exactly underdressed, your thin pajama pants and oversized t-shirt were doing absolutely nothing against the arctic assault happening in this godforsaken room. You shifted slightly, testing the waters, before sliding one ice-cold foot towards Dean’s thigh. The moment your frozen toes made contact with the warm denim, he jolted like he’d been electrocuted.

“Jesus Christ!” he hissed, his green eyes snapping open to glare at you in the dim light filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. “What the hell is that?”

“My feet are freezing,” you whispered back, trying to look innocent while simultaneously working your toes deeper between his thighs, seeking out every bit of warmth his body had to offer. “You’re like a human furnace. Share the heat.”

Dean’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted towards you, accommodating your frigid invasion with a low grumble of, “frost gremlin.” He slung his arm over you, and the heat radiating from him was intoxicating. You hummed happily as feeling slowly returned to your toes. At least… to the toes on one foot.

Your other foot was still a block of ice… and Sam was right there, all broad shoulders and warmth just waiting to be utilized. Before you could overthink it, you adjusted slightly and slid your remaining frozen foot towards Sam’s hip, working it beneath the hem of his flannel shirt until you found skin.

Sam’s reaction was immediate and visceral. The entire length of his body tensed as your ice-cold toes pressed against the warm skin just above his hip bone. He sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes found yours immediately in the darkness.

“Really?” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep. But even as he protested, his large hand came down to cover your ankle, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

“You’re both ridiculously warm,” you murmured, nestling deeper between them as Sam’s body heat began to thaw your second foot. “It’s only fair.” Sam’s tired chuckle was low and gravelly.

“Fair, huh?” His fingers tightened slightly around your ankle, holding your foot against his skin rather than pushing it away. “Pretty sure using us as personal space heaters wasn’t in the contract.”

“It was. Under the ‘Emergency Circumstances Stipulation.’ Didn’t you read the fine print?”

“You know damn well he didn’t,” Dean’s voice rumbled from behind you. He was spooning you, with your one leg folded up so your toes were still tucked between his thighs while your other leg was outstretched towards Sam. “Stanford Law and he still can’t read the fine print.”

You smiled into the darkness, feeling victorious as both men adjusted their positions to better accommodate your heat-seeking mission. The chill that had been gnawing at your bones began to retreat, replaced by the delicious warmth radiating from the two bodies bracketing yours.

“Must’ve been written in invisible ink,” Sam said softly, his hand sliding up from your ankle to cup your calf.

“It was microscopic,” you corrected, wiggling your toes against his warm skin, earning another sharp intake of breath from him. “Right next to the clause about sharing food and shotgun privileges.” Dean’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Sam followed you across the mattress, tucking his head beneath your chin and curling slightly. You tucked your legs between his and nuzzled your nose into his hair.

“Shotgun privileges are non-negotiable,” Dean muttered, his breath warm against the back of your neck. “But maybe we can make an exception for the human space heater thing.”

You settled comfortably between them, cocooned in happiness, warmth, and love.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @jollyhunter @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101 @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @alexfms97 @jbear750 @tinysnacklefan @chevroletdean @pisces-celeste @springflwer07

Sam taglist: @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @voodoochildthings @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @theamuz @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @alexfms97 @jbear750 @myceliumsunshine @bananapocalyps3 @tinysnacklefan @pisces-celeste @springflwer07

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

[izzibeeb]

sometimes seeing the accommodations my school offers is like. genuinely insane. one of the accommodations for test-taking is bathroom breaks which really only leads me to wonder why were bathroom breaks banned in the first place? why is drinking water “an accommodation” and not just like. a basic right

[prokopetz]

Not to be a technical writer on main, but I've been bumping into the idea lately that the only reason explaining yourself in more detail never seems to work is because neurotypical people are misunderstanding you on purpose, or because they have short attention spans, or because they just hate listening to you talk – and sure, occasionally that's even true, but most of the time the problem you're running into is more fundamental.

Every time you add more detail, you're running the risk of tripping over a bad assumption on your part about the listener's prior knowledge, or hitting the tipping point where they become overwhelmed with new information (and remember that you don't know which parts of what you're saying will be new information for them), or making a leap of logic that isn't as self-evident as you think it is, or any of a dozen other potential snags which, by definition, you will not see coming until it's too late to correct course.

Basically, every piece of information you add multiplies the odds of you getting blindsided by some vector of misunderstanding you didn't anticipate, even as it addresses the ones you did anticipate. The point of diminishing returns where continuing to elaborate increases the odds of unexpected miscommunication more than it decreases the odds of expected miscommunication is much nearer than you'd like.

The most effective act of communication is not the one which contains the most possible information, but the one which contains the smallest amount of information it possibly can while still getting its point across. It sucks, but it's the reality of the situation. People far more autistic than you have been trying for hundreds of years to invent a way of communicating which doesn't work this way, without success.

All of which is to say that "getting to the damn point" is legitimately a communication skill, not just an accommodation for people who aren't paying attention. If it's any consolation, it's something neurotypical people struggle with just as much as anyone else – if it was easy, technical writers wouldn't have jobs!

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 5 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in DC au. Tw: discussions of sa and child sa

[Part 4 here]

Danny is not sure how he got talked into this. Sure, he's been steadily getting better at "normal" interactions over the last 2 and a half years, and he's met or is family with everyone here, but it's still a lot. It's Dick, Wally, Kori, Raven, Jon, Damian, Kon, Bernard, Tim, Jason, Roy, and him all camped out in the second largest family room for a sleepover. Sort of. As overwhelmed as he feels, it's still rather fun.

They have movies playing in the background while they all play different games. At first, different groups split off to play board games or card games, but Dick decided they should play something all together. It was hard to find something that accommodated so many players, so they decided to play never have I ever.

Danny could even play honestly because everyone here knows about his "second set" of memories. So there's no questions if he puts a finger down to something he hasn't technically done from their perspective. But it does mean they hone in when he hesitates.

"Never have I ever lost my virginity." Damian said it because he knew Tim, Jason, and Dick would put their fingers down, but his eyes widen when Danny debates if he should. "Seriously?"

"I'm not sure it counts.." Danny shifts uncomfortably.

"Oh-ho! You lose it to someone Before?" Jason teases, "Who was it? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

"Jason.." Dick scolds while staring hard at Danny. He's clearly pieced it together. There's this look on his face that isn't sympathy, but empathy. Danny feels sick knowing his eldest brother knows exactly what he means because he's also been through something similar.

"I've actually never made it past kissing with a romantic interest." Danny can see the exact moment his very specific wording clicks. He starts trembling as a bunch of ugly emotions make themselves known.

"Shit."

"Danny-"

"I don't think it counts." Dick cuts everyone off, his sunshine smile nowhere to be seen. "No more than my assaults should be considered cheating."

The way Kori flinches leads Danny to believe that's exactly what she accused him of at some point. He knows they're exs, but didn't know the details. The guilt written all over her over this topic is reassuring, though.

"Sometimes things happen outside of our control." Dick gives a small sad smile. "Which means we can't blame ourselves. We just figure out how to live in the aftermath."

The fact Dick has been sexually assaulted seems to be news to everyone, but Wally and Kori. The anger on both of their behalves is heartwarming, but Danny just feels the need to scrub his skin raw. The images of the pedophiles pretending to be scientists flashing before his eye and their phantom touches making him feel dirty.

"I'm never going to escape what that lab did to me.."

"You already are." Kon pipes up. "Look around you, kid. Even just a year ago, you wouldn't have agreed to be part of this hangout. Sure, the scars will never go away, you'll have moments where you feel like nothing but an experiment or a tool, instead of the kind and bright person you are, but that's okay-"

"Whenever you forget. The people who care about you will just have to remind you!" Jon's bright grin has sadness mixed in it.

"Danny?" Tim shuffles closer. "Can I hug you?"

Danny doesn't verbally answer, just nods and crawls into Tim's lap. Danny curls up tightly and whispers. "I think I'm done playing for now."

"Alright.." Tim hugs him close, rubbing soothing circles on his back. A glance towards Dick reveals Wally and Kori have him sandwiched between them, giving him comfort.

"How..." Jason starts slowly, clearly still recovering from the information that his eldest and youngest brothers have both been assaulted. "How about we play Uno? We have 3 packs worth, so there should be enough."

Danny knows this won't be the last time the topic of their assaults are brought up, but it's a weird sort of painful healing to even just acknowledge it happened. It'll probably also stop them from trying to push him into relationships like they do with Damian. He can't stomach the thought of dating currently. He's happy just sticking to platonic affection for now.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

ONE RULE AT A TIME

pairing: aaron hotchner x lawyer!reader summary: you and hotch have barely had any alone time—and he just can’t wait (no, like literally, he cannot wait) to get his hands on you, based on this request. warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, oh boy here we go... semi-public p in v sex, public fingering, public orgasm, slight corruption & free use kinks, extraaa horny hotch, slight d/s undertones, r has to sit through dinner with come in her underwear (yay!!), established relationship. word count: 3.8k (lol)

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

You considered it rude to leave the table mid-conversation.

It was one of those rules, leftover from a mother who believed proper manners could carry a girl further than ambition. Elbows off the table. Napkin in your lap. Don’t interrupt. Don’t leave before dessert.

Of course, those rules technically didn’t apply here. Not with this group. These weren’t stiff-lipped dinner guests or white-gloved patrons of a country club. These were your friends. Or, more accurately, your colleagues—though you only ever called them that when you needed distance.

Still, the habit lingered. Your spine straightened every time someone new spoke, you nodded politely, you laughed at all the right cues. But it was getting increasingly harder to feign interest in anything anyone was saying, not with how close Aaron was sitting next to you.

It was criminal, really, how little time you’d had alone with him lately. Between your caseload, his travel schedule, and the world’s general refusal to accommodate a few uninterrupted minutes, tonight had been the first time in weeks you’d managed to make it into the same photograph. 

Unfortunately, the night you could both conjure up happened to involve other people. Talkative, never-quite-leaving people.

And you were trying your hardest to remain composed, executing your best poker-face saved for the courtroom to keep your thoughts and facial expressions appropriate. But then you felt Aaron’s hand brush your thigh under the table, and you forgot what someone was saying about….something. 

You didn’t look at him right away, you knew better. Instead, you set your fork down and reached for your wine glass, agreeing to God knows what conversation was happening. The question could’ve been ‘Have you ever committed perjury?’ and there you were, nodding along because the man you couldn’t wait to get alone was currently trying to initiate foreplay at the dinner table. 

His hand never paused, fingers tracing idle shapes above your knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake like breadcrumbs to your undoing. The room began to feel violently hot, and unfortunately there didn’t seem to be enough air for everyone to share. You reached for a cream napkin, blotting your mouth but also using it as a barrier from everyone else.

This wasn’t you. You had rules, standards, a personal code built on discretion, discipline, and never fooling around in public with a man who could get you to confess to crimes with just his fingers. You turned towards him, napkin still raised.

“Aaron,” you warned. “Stop that.”

He did just the opposite, his fingers pressing down a little harder now. 

You had never been the kind of woman to lose her head. You didn’t do public groping during candlelit dinner while someone ranted about office politics. You followed your rules. You were judicious, you were composed, you were the kind of person who scheduled spontaneity. 

And yet, here you were, pressing your thighs together under the table while Aaron Hotchner slowly pushed every moral you’d ever held into a shredder with one hand and a neutral expression. 

You turned to him again. “I’m serious. You need to stop.”

The bastard had the gall to tilt his head and furrow his brows like he couldn’t possibly imagine what you meant.

“I mean it. Quit that,” you chided, setting your napkin down. 

And his hand did move. He lifted it from your thigh and returned it to his side of the table. You exhaled—relief, technically—but it came threaded with something that felt suspiciously like disappointment.

Because yes, this was about professionalism, about decency, about not letting the I-haven’t-seen-you-in-too-long hormones reduce you both to a cautionary tale in public misconduct. Still…you couldn’t help but mourn the loss of that spark he had managed to light in a place it had no business burning. 

Though you didn’t have time to dwell or dissect your traitorous feelings before Aaron was abruptly standing and pulling your chair back for you, mumbling a curt, “Excuse us,” to the table. 

You looked around, mouth wide as your legs brought you up. “I’m so sorry,” you said, passing a look to everyone at the table who didn’t look the least bit fazed. “Back in a sec.”

Aaron’s hand found your wrist, his misbehaving fingers curling around yours as he started pulling you towards the back of the bar. You were so flustered your legs could barely keep up, tripping over themselves every second step like they were also struggling to process what was happening. 

“Where are we going?” you hissed, stumbling slightly as he rounded a corner. “You can’t just pull us away from dinner mid-conversation. What’s gotten into you today?”

“You looked a little hot,” he muttered, glancing back as he steered you past the bathrooms and down a corridor that was definitely for staff only. 

“Because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!”

He continued weaving through the turns and bends until you reached a narrow staircase that looked like it was in dire need of a health inspection.

“Think it’s this way,” he mumbled to himself, and all you could do was follow as he all but dragged you up the least stable stairs your feet had ever stood on.

“You are insane. We shouldn’t even be up here. You’re going to get us banned and I come here for drinks more often than I go home for dinner.”

“You come here to network,” he corrected.

You glared at the back of his head, noting his deliciously broad shoulders under the navy suit jacket he was wearing. “That’s what I said. Which is all the more reason we shouldn’t be on anything that’s not the ground floor.”

You reached the top of the stairs, and Aaron let go of your hand to use both of his to open up the fire exit door planted at the end of the stairwell. It opened with a creak of protest before you felt a gush of cold air greet you. 

“What is your pla—” You didn’t get the chance to finish before Aaron was manhandling you again, hungry hands ruching up your dress as they groped all they could reach.

“Aaron, we can’t do this here,” you breathed, head tilting up to the sky, the stars above shining down like innocent witnesses to your wildly inappropriate, excessively horny boyfriend. 

“Missed you.” He nipped your neck, nose brushing the pendant that rested on your collarbone. “So much.”

“I missed you too, fuck, but we can’t possibly do this here. Let’s just—wait until we get home.”

He grabbed your hand, bringing it down to his crotch. “Does this feel like it can wait?”

You should’ve pulled your hand back, should’ve ignored the feeling between your legs, but your immediate response was to curl your fingers around him. “This is so inappropriate.”

“I know.” His mouth was on your neck again and you felt him nudge and grind into your hand, then into your thigh, the hard press of his cock knocking all your sensible principles loose one by one. “You smell so fucking good.”

“You’re not listening,” you tried, weakly, because that’s what you were supposed to say. “I’m trying to be rational.”

“And I’m trying to make you feel good.” He grinned into your skin. “Guess we’re both busy.”

You made contact with the brick wall, just as Aaron pushed you up against it, hand dipping beneath your dress.

“We’ll get caught.”

He kissed your jaw. “No one comes up here.”

“We could get arrested.”

Another kiss. “I’d make sure you didn’t.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” you muttered, but your voice dropped when his thumb pressed down onto your clothed clit.

“If you really want me to stop, say the word.” The word. Your safe word. Not that you’d ever had to use it before, because Aaron had never decided to pounce on you on a restaurant rooftop like the idea of waiting for a cab repulsed him. 

You said nothing.

Little protests had left your lips when his hand landed on your thigh, but now that you had the chance to actually make all of this stop, you didn’t. You couldn’t. And you knew it was wrong. So deeply wrong and anyone could walk in, and there could be cameras and—

“Turn around,” he instructed, taking half a step back to slip off his jacket, his white shirt almost glowing in the dark. 

“What?”

“Against the wall.” 

He was already guiding your hips, manoeuvring you to spin your back to him. Your palms braced the scratchy brick wall, the one you were about to get very well acquainted with if you were to let Aaron have his way with you. Which, let’s be honest, has happened since the moment you walked into this place.

“What if someone comes up?” you asked quietly, pausing when you heard the buckle of his belt come undone, like that sound was your final chance to put a stop to all of this.

His response came in the form of hoisting your dress up, his chest keeping your back warm. “Can feel the heat through your thighs.”

Your breathing was already ragged and he hadn't actually touched you yet, not properly. You hated how easy it was for him to reduce you to this. 

“You ready?” he murmured, fingers finding the waistband of your underwear. 

You nodded, barely.

“Use your words.”

“…Yes.”

You folded into the wall, forehead grazing stone as he slipped your panties halfway down your legs. One of his hands rested on your hip, while the other gripped his cock, and you could feel the motion of him pumping himself a few times before his tip nudged between your thighs, thick and wet. 

Normally, he would tease, drag it through your pussy, because he knew you loved hearing the lewd sounds of how wet the both of you were. Loved the feeling of his veins burning your clit. But tonight, he just pushed in, the stretch knocking the breath from your lungs. 

It had been over 2 months since you'd felt him. 73 days, if you wanted to be exact. And somehow, he felt bigger than you remembered.

“Christ,” he groaned, forehead resting on your shoulder as he sank deeper. “You feel so fucking good. Tightest you’ve ever been.”

He pulled out just to slam back in.

“Can’t believe I waited this long. Should’ve had you like this the second we got in the car.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-moan, your body jerking with the next thrust. “I would’ve killed you.”

“Look at you, you’ve been fighting me all night just to end up like this.”

And he was right, which annoyingly, was the case with him nine times out of ten. You fought him because that’s what you’d taught yourself to do. Fight everyone in some form or another, directly or indirectly. It wasn’t even a conscious decision you made anymore, just part of your operating system. 

But then came Aaron. 

He was someone who didn’t hold back, who didn’t let you win arguments just to keep the peace. He pushed you, gently of course, and you could tell he took some smug satisfaction in challenging you when he knew you were wrong (a rarity). You hated it at first, the feeling of being matched, but also of being completely understood. It made you feel exposed, like he’d see your true colours and run. But instead, he was fucking you against a brick wall while your friends laughed over drinks downstairs. 

Your fingers scraped the brick and your knees buckled when his hand slid between your thighs again. “Aaron—”

“Oh, you’re close. You’re gonna come just like this, aren’t you?”

“I swear to God—”

“Right here?” he asked, his fingers dragging slow circles. “Where anyone could walk up and see how good I’m making you feel?”

The noise you made was inaudible. A whimper, a moan, a curse all jammed into one.

“Thought you had rules,” he mocked. “Thought you didn’t do things like this.”

“I don’t.”

“No?” He pinched your clit, and you pressed your forehead harder into the wall, teeth clenched, your thighs squeezing around his arm, like you could trap him there or stop him—you weren’t sure anymore.

Every part of your body felt like it was on fire, the breeze of the night doing you zero favours. You were close, so close, and there was nothing left to give him. You couldn’t match his pace nor his efforts, all you could do was stand there and take it. 

The moment his fingers quickened and his strokes pushed deeper,  your hand flew over your mouth, muffling a moan, then another. And before you knew it a cry was spilling into your palm as you came, toes curling in your heels, your entire body going rigid.

“Aaron,” you cried out, feeling both of his hands move to your hips, holding you in place. 

“I know, honey,” he panted. “Almost there.” 

He kept going, hips rutting in you as he chased the high you were still coming down from. Your cheek was pressed to the brick now, one heel slipping as your body fought to recover while he kept moving. 

“Just a little more. You can take it.” 

And you did, until his thrusts slowed, a series of curses lacing into your hair as he pushed himself flush against you. You felt him twitch and spill inside, his thumb tracing soft circles into your hip like a silent thank you.

He waited a minute, maybe less, before he was pulling out of you. Your brain scrambled to organise the next steps, cleaning up screaming the loudest, right before you felt Aaron’s calloused hands around your thighs, tugging your underwear back into place. 

“What are you doing?” you managed, looking down as he adjusted the fabric for you.

“You’re wearing them,” he said, smoothing your dress back down over your hips. “Just like this.” 

You spun to face him, watching as he fussed with his belt. “This is obscene, Aaron. I’m going to the bathroom to clean up and then I’m going home.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You’ve already made it this far and you know it’s rude to leave early.”

"You expect me to just go back out there like this?" 

He slipped his jacket on and then leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. "I expect you to sit there, make conversation, and pretend you're not still full of me."

Your mouth fell open. If your mother had been there, she’d have told you to close it before a fly flew in.

Aaron smiled gently, snaking a hand around the small of your back. “You’ll be fine.”

You had no choice but to move, one foot in front of the other as Aaron held the bulky rooftop door open for you. You took the stairs down far slower than you went up them, wincing with every step. You could feel exactly what he’d left inside you beginning to leak, trickling slowly from the cotton of your panties and down the inside of your thigh. 

Once you made it to the bottom you paused, glancing over your shoulder just as he reached you. “Head up, honey,” Aaron cooed. “You’re still the most put-together one at the table.”

You rolled your eyes but straightened up anyway because you’d be damned if your posture had to suffer.

Everyone looked like they hadn’t moved an inch back at the table, and Aaron, ever the gentleman, pulled your seat back. You did your best to sit in it as graciously as you could, trying to keep everything to yourself. You crossed your legs, which made it worse, so you uncrossed them. Then you sat forward. Leaned back. Nothing helped.

“Dessert menus came,” one of your friends said, sliding an embossed card your way. “But we figured we’d wait for you two.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” you smiled, still trying to get comfortable. You started reading through the options, gladly taking the distraction. And you thought, foolishly, that you might at least make it through dessert with some semblance of normalcy. That was until Aaron’s hand landed on your thigh. Again.

You stiffened, eyes snapping to him, but he was mid-conversation with someone across the table, something about funding, completely unbothered, like he wasn’t slowly trying to finger you into oblivion at the table. You moved in your seat, tring to squeeze your legs together but the pressure only made it worse, your underwear still damp and clinging across skin that was already far too sensitive.

It made no difference. He just laughed at a joke someone made, all while his fingers traced lazy patterns from your knee to the hem of your dress. Your heeled foot found his under the table, and you gave it a kick. He looked at you then, all smiley. 

“Breathe,” he said quietly and entirely unhelpfully. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“You’re crazy,” you muttered, your thighs already tensing as his hand slid higher, swallowed by your dress.

His fingers pressed the soaked material of your underwear, and you dropped your head, hand coming up to your temple like you were nursing a headache. He leaned in then, nodding towards the dessert menu before whispering, “So good for me, sweetheart.”

You disguised a whimper as a cough and felt his fingers dip beneath the fabric. You bit your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Listen to yourself,” he mumbled, right as he started circling your clit again. And you heard it, exactly what he was referring to. The wet sound of him mixed with your arousal, embarrassingly loud in your own ears even over the clink of cutlery and conversation. He was using one of your biggest turn-ons against you and you hated how well he knew it…hated even more how well it was working, that familiar feeling already making itself known in the pit of your stomach. 

Orange was your safe word. All you had to do was mention oranges—how they’re in season, how they’re not, ask if anyone liked marmalade, hell, just casually bring up vitamin C. No one would question it. Aaron would recognise it immediately and he’d stop.

But the syllables wouldn’t come. The tip of your tongue was useless, and your brain had apparently filed for resignation. So instead you shifted in your seat, spreading your legs a little wider. You lifted your eyes to meet his, seeing what looked close to pride.

Across the table, someone asked you a question and you nodded vaguely. You hoped it was a yes or no question because you absolutely could not be trusted to speak. Your mouth was too dry, and the rest of you was, well…not. 

Your hand reached for the cool glass of water, and you wrapped your fingers around it, absently smearing through the beads of condensation. But you didn’t lift it, for fear of dropping it straight into your lap and dragging every pair of eyes to exactly where Aaron’s fingers were now knuckle-deep inside you.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a second too long as he fucked into you, slowly. Not enough to push you over the edge, but far too much to pretend like you were functioning normally.

“Aaron,” you breathed, eyelids heavy, forehead clammy with sweat. 

“Need me to go faster?” he asked, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, focusing on the simple mechanics of breathing in and out, as if oxygen alone might be enough to hold you together. You just had to make it five more minutes. Five more minutes without gasping or moaning or knocking a water glass into your lap and revealing everything.

But then his fingers curled just right and your hips lurched forward helplessly. Aaron’s arm bumped the underside of the table, making the plates clatter and shift, not that anyone seemed to notice or if they did, they were polite enough to not comment. 

You dropped your hand to your lap, nails digging crescent moons into your thigh. Someone across the table laughed, and then someone else followed. Apparently there had been an endless stream of jokes while you’d been too busy getting off on your boyfriend’s thick fingers to notice.

“Are you alright?” one of your friends asked. 

“Yeah—yeah, all good.” You nodded, forcing a smile that was too tight. “Just a little hot, that’s all.”

Aaron hummed beside you, low and pleased, as though your answer had been for him and rewarded you below the table, curling his fingers deeper. You let out a sharp gasp, eyes snapping to the friend who’d asked if you were okay, checking to see if she was still watching. She wasn’t. You relaxed, only slightly, because your second orgasm was right around the corner.

You felt it in the way one of your heels had slipped off under the table, your toes curling against the floor. In the way one hand stayed pressed into your thigh, while the other clung to the edge of the table like your life depended on it.

“I’m gonna–”

“Shhh,” Aaron hushed you, leaning into your shoulder. To anyone else, it would look like the two of you were simply having a private conversation, huddled close to hear each other over the noise, leaving no clue, aside from your frantic breathing, that his hand was still buried inside you.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he murmured. “So fucking desperate. What would they say if they knew you were dripping down my wrist right now?”

That was all it took. You were already close and he nudged you over with just a handful of syllables. Your eyes squeezed shut, like a secret you couldn’t hold anymore. Your breath left you in a wobbly exhale, and you forced your head to stay upright, even as your muscles went soft, your body completely spent.

You could still feel your pulse pounding in your ears but you blinked through the heat behind your eyes, trying to calm yourself with shallow sips of air. Aaron withdrew his hand, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

“You okay?” he asked, without any trace of smugness. 

You nodded, a little slow. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

“I’ll call us a cab,” he said gently. “We’ll take the desserts to go.”

He started to stand, but your hand landed on his thigh, stopping him. “I’m going to need some help,” you muttered, partly because you were afraid your legs might give out… and partly because you weren’t brave enough to look at the state of the chair.

Aaron leaned down, placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and whispered, “Okay, honey. I’ll come get you once the car is here.”

And then he was gone, walking towards the waiter you’d had that evening while simultaneously pulling his phone from his pocket to call a cab. That gave you a ten-minute window to come up with an excuse for why you were leaving early, which, you noted with a vague sense of resignation, was just another one of your own rules you’d managed to break tonight.

You adjusted your dress, avoided looking at the chair, and mentally crossed dignity off the list of things you’d be leaving with.

At least the dessert was boxed.

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[thydungeongal]

Anyway this is relatively minor in the greater context of transmisogyny but sort of a demonstration of the fact that having good and inclusive policies only means so much when put up against all the rest of society being nakedly transmisogynistic.

I have been working out at a gym lately because it helps with my physical and mental health both. At this point in my transition I pretty much exclusively boymode in public and thus far the whole dressing room issue has not been an issue for me. But I recognize that at some point it is going to be both a comfort and a safety issue for me, so I've been looking for information about you know. What the policies of various service providers here in the metropolitan region of Finland are.

And the thing is, that information just isn't anywhere to be found. Like, that information does exist, but it simply isn't posted anywhere publicly. I know that the city of Helsinki has extremely inclusive and affirming policies when it comes to the use of gendered spaces in their sports and recreation services. Because I asked them through private channels (thus technically also outing myself to the person who answered my email, which just adds another layer of messed-up-ness to it). But because that information isn't posted anywhere it just doesn't actually do anything, right?

Like, I've been reading lots of literature about how trans folks, especially trans women, often don't feel comfortable in sports and recreation services for various reasons, and like I can't help but think of the fact that so much public discourse circles around how we're seen as invaders in gendered spaces, how other customers will target us with abuse and how service providers will often do very little to help us in the face of that abuse (and will often actively side with the person who finds out existence to be a threat). That is the ambient background noise we constantly live under, so we're inclined to believe that most service providers would, if a conflict should arise, take the side of a cis person who found our presence objectionable. This has actual measurable effects on trans people's health outcomes and we know a lot of the obstacles are not due to direct discrimination but due to structural and cultural obstacles.

So when some place actually does have an extremely inclusive and accommodating policy and their internal policies make it clear that their support for trans people is unequivocal and uncompromising and you know that their actual policy has got your back. It still doesn't help when that policy is nowhere to be seen.

It's always good to be critical of performative allyship. If a gym says that they welcome everyone and puts up pride flags for one month every year and then still asks a trans woman to leave the women's dressing room because a cis woman got scared, that's performative allyship. This is the opposite. These people have a clearly articulated policy that confirms that they will have your back if you're caught Exercising While Trans, but that information is nowhere to be found. I do think part of it is caution: they can't advertise that trannies are not shot on sight at their gyms because that would draw the ire of the right wing hate mob.

Anyway I'm glad the city of Helsinki is Woke and I have also relayed this information to some of the other dolls in the area, and apparently it's found its way to other queer groups here. But I have also told the lovely city employee I was in contact with that they should really have this information available somewhere, because not having it out there does represent an obstacle.

[suigenerisisadiva]

Y/N Wayne Runs For Mayor....And Wins! We don't know why but we have the how! F.t Batfam

Pairings: Batfam x Batsis!reader batsis!reader centred fic! Content: Swearing, crack yet again

A/N: Guys I am not dead, I'm v much alive, also! I made this as Y/N running for Mayor and not for prez cuz imo it just made more sense to me! It's not necessarily their reactions tho, but rather the crack that is present if that makes sense lmao Fine shyt I tag- @watchmakerhippo (sorry it took me so long to make this babe)

"Y/N Wayne for Mayor" — The Campaign No One Saw Coming

Y/N (in a campaign speech): I’m not saying I’m the best choice. I’m just saying I’m petty enough to get things done out of spite.

REACTIONS OF THE FAMILIA -

Bruce: blinks once “hm.” (he’s already building you a panic room in city hall.)

Dick: “I TAUGHT THEM TO RIDE A BIKE AND NOW THEY RUN A CITY.” (he’s crying. also trying to get free coffee off your title.)

Tim: “this started as a bet. how did we get here.” (still doing your spreadsheets. unpaid.)

Jason: “does this mean i can punch a senator?” (he already did.)

Damian: “finally. gotham has a leader worthy of its chaos.” (has a sword in your office desk. no one questions it.)

Cass: smiles, hands you a knife for your inauguration gift

Steph: “I’M DESIGNING THE PRESS OUTFITS. sequins or slay-black?? be honest.”

Alfred: “I suppose I’ll be adjusting the formal tea service to accommodate city council.”

groupchat name change: 🗳️ Mayor Menace & Her Feral Cabinet 🖤

Y/N AS MAYOR — Aesthetic

Press conferences at night (Bruce Wayne in Arkham Core)

Never on time. Always iconic.

Threatens the corrupt city council with a smile.

Voted “Most Likely to Beat Crime AND Gentrification”

Refers to themselves as “Gotham’s Problem Solver and Professional Hater.”

Y/N’S GOTHAM CABINET:

Commissioner of Chaos: Jason Todd

Press Secretary: Tim Drake (lies horrifically well)

Head of Public Affairs: Dick Grayson (smiles while distracting the media)

Secretary of Defence: Damian Wayne (Do I need to explain?)

Head of Sanitation: Cass Cain (cleans up corruption. Literally.)

Coffee Budget Coordinator: Alfred Pennyworth

Mascot: Titus in a mayor sash (He looks so cute stop)

Unofficial Diplomat: Selina Kyle (she’s not technically on payroll, but somehow has a desk)

CAMPAIGN SLOGANS:

“Vote Y/N. I Can’t Be Worse Than The Last Guy.”

“Elect Hot People Only. Starting With Me.”

“I Can Fix Gotham. Or Break It Better.”

“Because You Know I’ll Actually Fight Somebody.”

“Bringing Gotham Together Through Fear and Slay.”

“Justice Is Blind. I Am Not.”

“I Am Bruce Wayn'es Daughter”

GOTHAM GAZETTE HEADLINES:

“WAYNE HEIR WINS BY LANDSLIDE, PROMISES NO PEACE”

“NEW MAYOR SWORN IN. REFUSES TO REMOVE HER VERSACE SUNGLASSES. VICKI VALE FIRED!”

“Y/N WAYNE ADDRESSES CITY: ‘GOTHAM’S MY CITY NOW. SIT DOWN.’”

“NEW MAYOR IMMEDIATELY CANCELS PLANS FOR UGLY MONUMENT: ‘THAT STATUE LOOKS LIKE A TOE.’”

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Header - Pinterest

Bat dividers - @sister-lucifer

Grey dividers - @cursed-carmine

Bow Divider - @dollywons

Property of suigenerisisadiva, do not repost my work pls & ty

[queers-gambit]

Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Poisoned Apple

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Poisoned Apple masterlist

[dollfacefantasy]

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fingering i am so down bad i had to get this out of my system

Everywhere he went, you followed Billy around like a puppy. Always watching him with adoring eyes, lingering by his side to see what he was up to. At first he pinned it on you looking for reassurance as the newbie in the group, but after a few weeks, it was obvious that your attachment ran deeper. You obviously had quite the crush. 

You spoke to him with more nerves in your voice. Followed his orders down to the letter and damn near saluted him when you received them. He could scowl at you or scold you, and you might scurry away with your tail between your legs for the hour. But give it some time, and you'd be back.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Sure it was... flattering, and technically, you were still doing your job well, performing on missions as you should. But at the same time, it was distracting having a sweet young thing like you prancing around him at all times, seeking his approval with each breath you took. He was supposed to be focusing on revenge, justice, saving the world and all that. But fuck, one look at you and that's all a distant memory.

At the end of the day, he's just a man. He needs to have a taste. One night when the two of you are out scouting, he gets you alone in the van. It only takes a tender look and a few words in a lilted tone of his voice to have you cumming on his fingers and your panties in the pocket of his coat. A few days later, you blow him in a public bathroom while you wait for a target to show up. After that, he eats you out at your desk in the office.

Tonight he gets you back to his place. He's sat on the sagging couch, thighs spread wide enough to accommodate you between them. He holds you there. You're bent in half with your legs up in the air. One of his arms is hooked around them for support while his other is curved around your bottom to get at your dripping pussy.

His thick fingers pump in and out. He works at a moderate pace for now, not enough to break you just yet, but the perfect rhythm to make you squirm your ass against his solid bulge. You have your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with droopy, glazed eyes. All he can do is smirk in return.

"Feel good? You like gettin' that little cunt stuffed full?" he teases.

His voice comes out hushed despite the fact that it's just the two of you. The words rumble up from his chest against your back. You just nod in response. Any words that would have been suitable have turned to mush in the pit of your belly.

The wordless gesture doesn't stop him at all. It only spurs him forward. His entire hand is coated in slick by now, your arousal seeps out with each pump and slips over the expanse of his palm. Wet, erotic noises emanate from your center while soft whimpers pour from your lips. He squeezes your legs up tighter, smooshing your breasts down.

"I know you do, pup. Such a needy thing," he says, "Following me around like I got you collared and leashed."

You moan at the image of that filling your mind. If he wanted you to, you would. You'd kneel at his feet, bound and pretty, displaying your devotion to him around your neck. You'd rest your empty little head on his knee and zone out while he pet you and called you his good girl.

"Oh, she likes that," he chuckles as your walls clamp around him.

You nod eagerly before arching your back and yelping as his thumb starts swiping across your puffy clit.

"Atta girl. Panting like a bitch in heat for me," he murmurs and nuzzles your temple.

You whine like one too, trembling in his arms as the coils of pleasure tighten in your tummy. Your eyes flutter, lashes dusting your cheeks as you look up at him. He watches on with his own lust blazing in his eyes.

He fucks his fingers into your tight heat faster, curling them a bit to stroke that sweet spot inside you. Some drool slips from between your lips at the onslaught of stimulation. His fingers were just so fucking thick. Only two of 'em were in right now. He hadn't let you take his cock yet, but you could only imagine how snug of a fit it would be if this was any indicator.

"There you go, love. You're getting there," he praises as he continues sliding his fingers in and out while massaging your bundle of nerves.

"F-fuck," you whimper, "Gonna cum soon."

"I can tell," he rasps, "Go head and do it. Wanna see you come apart for me."

Soft noises of ecstasy bubble from your lips. You were nothing if not dedicated to pleasing this man, so you give him what he wants. It only takes a few more flicks and thrusts of his digits to get you to crash into bliss. 

Your head tilts back as you cum. Your legs kick lightly in the air, but he keeps you in place. You squirm against his broad, warm chest. Your cunt locks tightens around his fingers, wishing so fucking badly that it was his cock.

He kisses you as you start to come down. His lips land on yours and capture every delicious sound you make. Your breathing calms and returns to a normal pace along with your heart rate slowing down. Your legs bend over his forearm before he lets them down gently and allows you to just sink back into his body.

You're soaked between your legs, inner thighs slippery with release. As he withdraws his fingers, your pussy is already aching for another part of him to fill it up again. You turn and slide your grabby hands beneath his shirt, but he simply boosts you up to sit fully on his lap.

"You're insatiable, sweetheart," he teases before pecking your lips.

"Cause you keep teasing me," you mumble.

"Yeah? Think so? I think I'm just taking my time with you."

"Takin' too long," you huff in response between kisses.

"Maybe you're just greedy and spoiled," he says.

You're about to reply with another bratty comment, but he flips you over and spreads you out on the couch. You hear the zipper on his pants slide down, and you're almost certain it's the most thrilling noise you've heard in your life. One look up at his eyes tells you you're not gonna be complaining in a couple more minutes.

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Engineer

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.5k, fluff, a little violence.

• Being a talented inventor meant your skills were sought by many (both good and bad), but then you catch the attention of Dynamight.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mention of weapons, post time skip.

>>>>——————————>

"You can't be serious Bakugō-san."

The pro snapped to his trusty assistant, raising an expectant brow when replying like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You said they're the best. That's who I want for my agency."

"Yes but—"

"But nothing! Do you know where I can find them?"

"Everyone who has tried has been refused. Their infamous talent has been sought by heroes, big companies, and even villainous characters... All of whom failed to hire them."

"’Cause I haven't asked yet."

"Bakugō-san, I know there's no convincing you otherwise but, I'd recommend having other options available at least."

True to his assistants' warnings, you were no easy recruit, all his efforts at communication were futile. Emails? Calls? Letters? You hadn't replied to any of his professional outreach methods and he suspected this was a common occurrence for you.

Fine then, he'd turn up the heat. Your workshop address wasn't a secret to those with connections and Bakugō wasn't one to give up without a fight. Literally, if need be.

———

It was a perplexing thing in the middle of nowhere, your workshop. A metal-like building heavily lined with obscure defensive weaponry as well as having access to your own personal scrapyard it seemed. But it was yours. A rumoured mechanical talent for crafting hero gear and inventions, one that drew attention from far and wide. However you were content in your independence, it was less hassle this way you'd hoped.

Alas, the confident banging on the metal entrance doors with conviction was far from unusual.

"I told ya, I don't—" You paused once sliding open the door and taking a look at your visitor, lifting your goggles and shifting to a smile. "Haven't seen you at my door before."

"Since ya didn't answer my calls or mail, I don't have a choice." The man seethed through gritted teeth, trying to be more 'accommodating' like advised.

"Oh? Which one are you again?" Your gaze flicked to a pile of (some charred) letters in a nearby bin, smile growing more smug by the second.

"Bakugō Katsuki. You might know me as Dynamight though."

"Yeah you're fun. I like you." You smirked proudly, honesty and bemusement present. "The way you yell at people resonates with me."

The man rolled his eyes with scoffing sound, choosing not to say anything rambunctious enough to have you slam the door in his face - still, he was surprised when you welcomed him in.

"Tch. S'pose you know why I'm here then."

"You, and many others. Had Lemillion here last month, least he bought me a welcome basket with cake and such." You joked, easing the caution the blonde seemed to be upholding around you with his natural personality showing.

"Tch, ain't gonna get you none of that crap unless you start working with me. I did bring something useful though because I'm better than the other extras you've dealt with." He held out a bag, one you quizzically explored to find a peculiar item to win one over with.

"A spanner...?"

It wasn't just a spanner, it was one of the newest, top of the grade, multi tool sets crafted by one of the big brands. Thoughtful. Very thoughtful actually...

"I appreciate it, but I can't accept something this expensive. Especially when I'm going to decline your offer."

"S'fine. It's a gift, but if you feel that guilty about it then you can fix my gauntlets." Bakugō justified rather abruptly, shoving the bag into your arms to ensure you took it.

"Alright. That sounds fair."

"I'll grab 'em from my car, get your shit ready."

That afternoon, you sat beside Katsuki as he talked you through the technicalities of his weaponry whilst you worked on them together. All the while diverting onto conversation tangents and making drinks mid way, he demonstrated his quirk - tiny sparkles of explosive lighting up his hand.

"They're pretty, your explosions."

"They’re deadly— I don't— shut up nerd!" He dismissed you briskly, turning away with an irritated growl.

———

Fixing his gear would be the first and last time you'd see Bakugō in person you assumed, considering you declined his job proposition and all.

So when you received another bout of rapid banging on metal the following week, you were surprised to find a smirking Dynamight rather than another recruiter.

"Shocked to see me or something?"

"Well I— yeah. Figured you'd take my refusal and go."

"Nah you did a good job with my gauntlets, wanted to see what else you're up to." Dynamight flexed his wrist for example, openly pleased with his gauntlets but seemed more so by your genuine reaction.

"Oh really?" You sounded truly perplexed, but also excited to share your work with someone. "Sure, I'll show you my latest ideas!"

Bakugō stayed a while, a couple of hours discussing applications for your inventions and inquiring as to whether there were any materials you were unable to obtain recently. Then it moved on to his occupation, his agency, and then to trivial matters such as popular restaurants around town.

“So, wanna join my agency yet?” The blonde threw over his shoulder on his way out of the door.

“No Dynamight, but thank you for asking and visiting.”

“Fine nerd. I’ll be back then.”

Now you didn’t believe that for a second when he slammed the door behind him, and you felt like he’d only asked for the sake of it - fully expecting you to say no. However, if he did decide to visit again, you wouldn’t be mad about it you concluded.

———

Unfortunately, your next set of individuals weren’t so welcomed. You’d seen them multiple times previously, each visit coming with its increase of pressure to work exclusively for them. A dealer who specialised in exporting weaponry to villains on the black market, they had both the money and power to pose either a threat or a reward. Except, your constant refusals had only fuelled their growing impatience which led them crashing down your door tonight with violence in their wake.

"C'mon (L/n), I came here personally just to hire you. We'll certainly pay you well enough~" The dealer slammed you into the wall, digits digging so deeply into your neck you barely managed a disgruntled wretch.

"I'll neve— ever work— for you assholes!"

"Too bad, the consequence for that is death y’know." You were slung across the floor, a gasp for breath futile when he aimed his pistol at your heart. "Want to reconsider yet?"

"Fuck you."

The gun safety clicked off, one of the henchman's quirks keeping you painfully immobile. If these were your final moments you were furious you hadn't completed your latest invention, maybe a little irritated you hadn't hit the code red before you were taken over by a damn quirk. You avoided pledging alliances to avoid this bullshit! You didn't work for any competitors, you weren't in the line of fire for sharing information, but now you can't even refuse work without getting caught in a crime web?! Society and talent is a sh—

Then an ear splitting bang echoed in the facility, dust clouds and debris forcing through the room like a tidal wave, leaving two intruders knocked out and the remainder covering their faces and yelling confused curses. That's when you saw sparks of light, a familiar explosion you had the privilege of seeing in person only once before.

He came back.

"That's why they call me Great Explosion Murder God!" He grinned menacingly, teeth bared like a predator with a dangerous glint in those crimson eyes. Sparks and smoke danced around him, the hero lowering both his stance and voice when he spoke what sounded like a protective threat.

"Now get away from my agency's' new engineer."

Oddly you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you'd narrowed that down to the whole situation being an absolute bombshell. You watched as Dynamight immobilised them effortlessly, the quirk being lifted allowing you to utilise your inventions - mechanised laser snipers pointed at the foreheads of your unwanted company, all programmed to fire with a snap of your fingers.

"Couldn't have done that sooner nerd?" The hero shot back to you tauntingly, but you didn’t miss how his gaze flared up at the sight of bruising on your neck when he’d scanned you for injury.

"Then you'd be out of a job, hero."

It took no longer than ten minutes for the authorities to arrive, during that time Dynamight had retrieved any information he’d wanted. As well as issuing basic first aid to you contrastingly softly in comparison to the deathly interrogation the dealer experienced.

You’d be taken to hospital for a check of course, (Bakugō personally walking you to your escort since he couldn’t drive you himself right now) but before you bid farewell you had a burning question.

"When can I start?"

"Hah?" Came his classic recall, snapping to you with a look of angry curiosity.

"You called me your engineer, I was wondering when that begins." Your voice was quieter now, but upon realising Katsuki seemed a little embarrassed with hand rubbing his neck and honest answer spilled.

"It's your choice, but I figured saying that would get others off your back when word gets around. You'd be left in peace for a while to continue your work."

"And if I want to work with you, when would you want me at the agency?

"All the time." Just as quickly as he spoke, he realised his lack of hesitance, awkwardly huffing and rephrasing all in one. "I'll send over a contract, you can move stuff into the lab if you like the terms."

"Then I look forward to working with you, boss." Gladly, you held out your hand to him, pleased smirk plastered on your features.

"Call me Katsuki." He shook your hand, victorious grin in play. "And the pleasure’s all mine."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

# day 1 — dp 1 hole.

s. having the attention of two of liyue's strongest women isn't so bad when they keep you as their pretty pet.

cw. fem!reader, sub!reader, dp 1 hole, threesome, squirting, pegging, use of strap-ons, cervical stimulation, overstimulation, multiple rounds & dirty talk.

wc. 2154

You’d never really enjoyed attending the high-end parties that were hosted in Yujing Terrace, seeing as how a good majority of them were held for business reasons. Those were the absolute worst, with the suffocating stiffness drowning out any possibility of having any real fun. Thankfully, tonight’s party had been one of the rare occasions where no one was concerned about the other's so-called “status” and the mood was a lot more livelier. Even the normally stuck-up elites seemed to be more relaxed, though you suspect it’s because of the plentiful amount of champagne they’d indulged in.

Beidou hadn’t taken her eyes off of you the entire night ever since she’d seen you wearing that beautifully exquisite dress which perfectly accentuated your body in all the right ways. It was a gift from Ningguang, and an expensive one at that, so it’d be a waste to not show off. You’d seen her watching you with playful smirks and sending winks your way, to which you gave her your best coy smile and pretty flutter of your eyes.

Beidou always likes it when you tease her back. It always gets her all riled up, and you quite like it when your pretty little smiles get the captain all hot and bothered. It makes everything so much more fun.

Nigguang was much more subtle than the captain, her methods far more sneaky and sensual, but just as exciting and fun. When everyone was too busy enjoying themselves and chatting up a storm, she appeared by your side, sporting her usual sultry smile. Her voice is like a siren song, gloved fingers gliding along your shoulder as she whispers about how badly she wants to take you, how she wants to utterly ruin her sweet little toy, and so many other intoxicating words that make your head woozy with need. And just as quickly as she arrived, she left your side, only giving you another smile as she sauntered off.

Ningguang always likes it when you react so nicely to her sultry words. Knowing that you’d be stewing in your arousal with no relief until she provides it, gives the Tianquan quite the tantalizing thrill.

And of course, they cornered you when you’d least suspected it, exchanging knowing looks while they murmured sinful words and caressed you with enticing touches as they ushered you away so they could act on their intentions—

Beidou is under you now, barely moving, lazily grinning as she watches you quiver rapidly. You’d just let out a shrill cry, eyes now puffy with fat tears staining your cheeks as you so desperately tried to accommodate both of their sizes in your cunt. The strap-on that Beidou sports is thick, heavy, and brushed up against your g-spot without any effort; and Ningguang’s is long, slender, and a little too curved in a way that meant she hit your cervix each time.

“Hey, you gotta keep your voice down sweetheart,” Beidou chuckles heartily, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Don’t want anyone hearing ya and walking in on us.”

She’s right, as the party is still technically going on outside. Just barely above the loud buzzing in your ears, you can hear the clamor of the crowd and flowing music. But you could care less about the crowd outside and any potential intrusions on your sweet little afterparty. All that is on your mind is Beidou and Ningguang, and being their pretty little toy.

“M’sorry, f-forgive me…” Despite your timid plea, you were bursting with joy—you were just so happy to have your cunt filled to the brim—as evidenced by the woozy grin on your face.

“Oh my, you’re such a needy little whore aren’t you?” Ningguang croons, amused at the way you unconsciously grind your hips against their shafts, and she even thrusts into you—and oh, does she love how you moan when she does. “A shame I couldn’t arrange a punishment for you. But I’m sure that a toy like you would enjoy it.”

Beidou snorts so loudly that you jump in surprise—and you squeak in reaction to the movement of the two lengths that slide in just a bit deeper.

“Ugh, always on about punishments and whatnot. If you’re always doing that kind of crap, then it just gets boring after a while.”

“You’re one to complain, Captain Beidou.” The aforementioned woman rolls her eyes hard at the use of her title.”Don’t think I haven’t forgotten all of those times you would fuck (name) relentlessly just because some of your crew had flirted with her. Or when you’d done it in a public place. Such insolence.”

“You’re no fun at all, Tianquan. You sometimes gotta live a little.” Beidou huffed. Ningguang just smiled at her. “Besides, (name) enjoyed it, pretty girl even begged for me to do it again.”

“Did she now?” Her attention is back on you and you can feel the smirk growing on her lips before she hums. “As expected of our sweet pet, she even enjoys it in public, of all places. I suppose I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Make sure to invite me. I might get a bit jealous if you hog her the whole time.” Ningguang just snorts in response.

Having paid little attention to their quarrel (they’d always go back and forth like this even when you weren’t involved), you’re far too focused on rolling your hips, testing your body’s readiness for what is to come. It doesn’t matter that your cunt is still aching a bit—you need to be fucked like the little slut you are.

“Oh? Want us to move now?” The pirate beneath you raises her eyebrows, lips upturned with mirth.

“Y-yes, please move, I want it s’badly..”

And move they do. Their movements are a bit awkward, what with how they're positioned and how you try to grind against both lengths simultaneously, but they seem to get the hang of it. With your clit smooshed up against Beidou’s groin, the friction gets you even wetter, allowing the two women’s movements to be smoother. You can’t see what kind of face Ningguang is making, with how she pushes into you deep, deep enough for the slender tip to be giving your cervix little love pecks; and Beidou has a good view to watch your pussy swallow up her strap-on greedily, grinning at how soaked you are.

“Can’t believe you’re taking us so well. It’s like you were made for us,” she marvels, delivering the compliment with a playful squeeze of your thigh—she knows that your thighs were a weak point and had no qualms about teasing you just for you to whimper and jolt from sensitivity. She enjoys your yelps, loving the pleasured faces you make with hardly any shame. “You’re so wet. You must’ve really wanted us that badly huh?”

You blink back tears and nod fervently. Your panties were practically drenched by the time the two women had dragged you away. “M-mhmm, I wanted you s’much, felt like I’d die if you didn’t fuck me.♡”

And it’s the truth; if they hadn’t whisked you away when they did, you might’ve really died from how aroused and pent-up they’d left you. You know, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration on your part, but it was really hard to keep a straight face while you were dripping enough arousal that it had already begun to drip down your legs. And of course, Beidou responds positively like she always does, grinning her usual wide smile, though much sexier (if that was even really possible, she was already super sexy as is).

“You’re so cute, y’know that? You’re such a doll. Makes me wanna fuck you senseless until you can’t walk anymore,” she tells you, looking as if she wants to kiss you because you’re such a cutie. You do her the favor and sloppily kiss her yourself, having to lower the weight of your trembling body on hers. She doesn’t seem to mind, with her hums of amusement vibrating into your mouth as she dominates the kiss.

Beidou was always more fond of kissing than Ningguang, claiming that you were simply too cute for her to resist and she really couldn’t help herself. Not that Ningguang was one to indulge in such an intimate action, but when she did kiss you, it was the best feeling in the world. Kissing her was a very special privilege if you’d been especially good for her and she was feeling rather generous.

But it’s a bit hard to focus on the kiss when Ningguang pushes forward with a particularly deep thrust, and you have to break away so you can gasp and moan. Sometimes she gets a bit irked if you pay more attention to Beidou than her (no, no, not jealous, that’s not the correct word even if it’s kind of the truth), so she just angles herself to bully all your sweet spots—because she knows that you’ll be a goner if she keeps grazing your cervix.

Ningguang presses a kiss on the small of your back as she presses her entire upper body on top of you. This position seems to be a bit easier for her, especially on her back. The insides of your cunt are going crazy; squeezing, fluttering about from the pleasurable assault on your body—their shafts are compressed tightly in your walls and pressed snugly together. It’s so good, it’s too good..!♡

“Bei..dou, Ninggu—f-feelsh so good, wanna..” You wanna cum so badly. Even if they hadn’t fucked you for too long, you can’t help yourself in begging for release like the needy toy you are. The begging was also required since Ningguang wouldn’t be too pleased if you came before she said so. “Please, m’so full, s’so good…”

“It's alright.” Ningguang’s voice is a honey-sweet melody against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you as if you’re her stability. “You’ve been good for us today.”

And, like the well-trained dog you come off like, you finally cum, and it hits you hard. Your release gushes out from you violently, drenching Beidou’s abdomen and soaking into the bedsheets below. Consequently, you end up collapsing back down for good, tugging Ningguang’s shaft forward with you. You’d been so pent-up from tonight’s earlier events; the anticipation of getting your cunt fucked how it was meant to be having done absolute wonders for you. Even if you had rubbed your thighs together or taken a sip of cold water, none of it did anything to soothe the aching heat of your needy pussy.

But despite your intense orgasm, neither woman slows their movements; they move harder, burying themselves so deep that it doesn’t seem healthy but sure as hell feels good. With your hypersensitivity, the pleasure feels so good that it hurts. And yet you want more.

“You may be done. We’re not.” And Ningguang? She leans up, and nips at the side of your neck. It was pretty typical for Beidou to bite your shoulder when she was getting really into it, but when Ningguang bites, it stings, like the whole point was to hurt. At least it snaps you out of your stupor—you gasp, moan, beg for more (oh they both really like it when you act so needy for them like the dumb whore you are), and do whatever you can to satisfy them. Grind down into Beidou, wiggle your hips to make Ningguang go harder, and show them how good of a pretty little toy you can be for them. Overstimulation and exhaustion be damned; you were getting fucked regardless.

"Little.. more..." Ningguang gasps, and in response Beidou seizes your hips—and if she was adamant about shaping your pussy into her shape before, then now she’s engraving Ningguang’s into your walls as well. She's picking you up, pushing you down, treating you more like a hole to fuck rather than a person as her head is thrown back, and Ningguang buries her face into your neck, moans becoming breathier with a hitch and—

“Fuck, you’re so tight, better not pass out—”

You wouldn’t dare; neither one of them would allow you to just drop out when you were just getting started. You know, on the off-chance that Beidou's thrusting or all that dirty talk or the reminders of how filthy a girl you are for fucking two of Liyue's most renowned women isn’t enough to have set you off already.

Both women groaned in satisfaction, finally pumping their hips, hard, sharp thrusts to make you come for them and finish themselves. When you're freed from the kiss, Beidou looks relaxed. At ease.

They both still, panting heavily as they sink down bonelessly, soaking in the afterglow of the intense session. The air is filled with heavy gasps, faint moans, and whimpers (though most of the noise is courtesy of you).

After a while, Beidou speaks up.

“So, how ‘bout another round?”

🏷. @lakeside-paradise @sakurakiko @arissecretstash

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[whereserpentswalk]

Your partner was bitten by a werewolf a few months ago. You local monster hunter and sorcerer associations say there's nothing you can do, that it's best to just keep them as they are.

You didn't expect it to be so constant. There are times when the curse is stronger but there's never a time when it's fully away. You can try to keep them away from triggers like images of the full moon, but it's hard.

They change periodically, and incompletely. Sometimes they're fully a wolf, and sometimes they're fully a person, but useally they're a hybrid between both. Sometimes they have some fully human parts and some fully wolf parts like a Chimera, but other times it's a blend. Their mind likewise fluctuates, right now they're useally at a point where they're sapient but have pretty heavy wolflike urges, but early on their baseline was a lot worse. Their mind doesn't even always reflect their body, you've seen them acting entirely animalistic while being mostly human looking, and you've seen them in full control while looking mostly like a wolf. It was disturbing at first but you've gotten used go it.

They can't work anymore. You tried to get an accessible job for them but employers just don't understand how to deal with them. They'll come in on a good day when you couldn't even tell they were a monster of any sort, and they'll be accepted. But then a few weeks later they'll have to cancel because they're fully a wolf and don't have the limbs required to work, or because their mind is suddenly too animalistic to do their job. There are more vampires and demons in your city then there are werewolves so people are more used to accommodating them mabye. Or mabye people just aren't very accommodating. Your provide for them now, which technically makes you their cartaker, but you don't like that term.

They've gotten more used to the transformations at this point. Accepted that some days they're going to have to be a wolf. And they're starting to actually enjoy parts of being a wolf, of running that fast, and having a wolf's hearing or smell when they do, of being so strong. And they're able to give themselves days where they have an entirely animalistic mind, so it's easier to keep their mind human on other days. They're even starting to be able to choose hybrid forms that they want, and have the confidence to go out in them, even enjoying how certain hybrid forms look and feel.

Still, there are times when they'll suddenly transform in public, or have a bad transformation and suddenly have to stop everything they're doing and pick the peices back up. You try to calm them down, and treat them nicely when you're there for them. You know that werewolves who don't have that type of support network have it a lot worse. Even on days when they're barely human, you still try to comfort and look after them, and make sure they're happy and safe, and try to give them affection in the ways that you can. It's not about trying to get them to turn back quickly, it's about making sure whatever form they're in they're happy.

And there are days when things are normal, when you can just hang out, or go out like you used to. Sometimes on days when they're very human they have to suppress every hint of transformation to make sure they don't change, other days they're better off keeping their teeth sharp, or their hair silver, or their eyes yellow, and not push themself too hard. And you can still enjoy those days, it helps to know that they're still here.

You're really happy you moved to a more densely populated area. If you had stayed in their hometown they would not have been treated well as a monster. Their parents still are super uncomfortable with them. Even in the city they get weird looks sometimes, and there are still some people who react weirdly to them. You haven't gotten that many people acting like they're a dangerous monster, though it's happened on a few unfortunate occasions. More often you have people acting weirdly sensitive about them, or treating them like a child, or like a constant object of pity. It's not fun having someone treat your partner like a tragedy when you're just going about your day. The worst comment you've ever gotten was your brother saying you're so brave and selfless for staying with them, it was meant in kindness, but it was the worst insult you could imagine them receiving. Luckily your city has a large enough monster population so they can befriend people such concerns are less likely to apply to.

Things are getting better. You're going to try to be intimate with them for the first time since they were bitten, though you're very ready to stop if anything goes wrong. At first you were waiting for things to suddenly be normal again, for them to fully gain control, you don't think they ever will, slowly you're becoming ok with that.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Headcannons for how the Harbingers (Separately) would handle a reader who gets overwhelmed after being around crowds all day and wants physical contact to recharge. Oddly specific but if you feel comfy writing thus I'd love to see it!

this one was interesting to think about so I did only two harbingers for now but you're free to swing back around and request others as well :D i tried to pick two on opposite ends of the scale to show the difference between them, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: This post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, relationship neglect, Dottore being an ass, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Pantalone: 

Your best bet is Pantalone, as he’s the most understanding and affectionate amongst the Harbingers. This isn’t to say he’s an absolute doll, but that he’d be the most accommodating. He understands that not everyone is made for crowds and parties and the large events he typically attends, which is why he always extends the offer for you to simply sit them out. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t want you to accompany him, because there’s no one he’d prefer by his side, but he knows that you don’t do well amongst others. If you do choose to go though, he is more than happy to oblige in your need for comfort. Whether there is a ride back or merely a walk back to your shared quarters, you can expect him to be touching you in some way. 

It could be a hand holding yours as you walk down the halls back to your bedroom, it could be holding you close to his side on the carriage ride back to the palace, it might even extend to him pulling you into a secluded corner and smothering your face in feather light kisses before re-entering the party crowd.

Regardless, Pantalone is the easiest and best to ask for comfort from, his job is one of the more stressful ones amongst the other Harbingers and he’s always more than happy to allow himself some relaxation time with you. 

Dottore:

While Pantalone is the best, Dottore is on the opposite end of the spectrum. This man is too busy chatting up elites for more funding to really pay any mind to your growing unrest. If you try to talk about it beforehand he’ll simply insist you stay, rather than be a burden to him. Should you refuse to back down and go regardless, he’ll brush off any requests you make of him for affection or to leave.

If the event is taking place in the Palace, he’ll simply tell you to wait outside in the hallway and send one of his segments to collect you. If it’s away from the Palace, he’ll tell you to either suck it up or go sit in the carriage and wait for him there.

When the event inevitably ends and he is no longer preoccupied with kissing the ass of those around him, you can still expect to be largely ignored. This man is a genius scientist who is always in the middle of a huge breakthrough! Do you really expect him to drop everything to cuddle up to you because you’re too soft? If you can’t wait for him to become so sleep-deprived that he finally gives in and crawls into bed, which can take days unfortunately, then you’ll just have to make do with being comforted by one of his segments.

It’s happened enough that his segments have come to know you personally. And while they are technically still Dottore, they’re merely fragments of him that have grown into their own partial beings. The comfort they provide doesn’t extend much beyond the physical aspect, but there’s a small bit of comfort in knowing that they’re here for you. That someone is willing to give up their time to be by your side.

[writeaboutit]

Thus With a Kiss, I Die

Firefighter Abby and Reader get trick-or-treaters

Wanted to get out one last Halloween-themed fic before spooky season ends(even though it's technically the 1st). I had a couple more ideas, one including a Halloween party that would bring in the other characters(Ellie, Dina, Jessie, etc.) but idk if I want them in this universe or not so lmk if y'all would be interested in that or not. Anyway, I hope you like it and happy last days of spooky season!!

Series: p1,2,3

Word Count: 945

Warnings: None

You tried and failed to walk down the hallway in a normal way—those damn wings. The costume was cute but you kept forgetting about the wings strapped to your back. You couldn’t really tell if that was a good or bad thing.

On one hand, they were light enough to endure wearing them for the next two hours while you and Abby handed out candy to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters and then three more hours for the Halloween party. On the other hand, you had already lost seven wing feathers to various walls, low-hanging light fixtures, and one door jam. 

You turned sideways and shimmied down the hall to accommodate the small space and expansive wings. You would get used to it… or at least that's what you keep telling yourself as you round the corner into your bedroom. 

Abby was sitting on the edge of your mattress struggling with a buckle on the arm cuff on her fake metal armor. Suddenly you thought you probably shouldn’t be complaining about the wings. You knew that Abby’s costume was a sensory nightmare but she was ignoring it to appease you and your dream couple's costume. 

It was your first Halloween in the new house and you were dying to dress up. You had only lived in apartments previously and being in a house this year meant trick-or-treaters surly. You'd be damned if you didn’t go all out with your costume.

So here you were wearing massive white wings and a long white dress, Abby across from you wearing a grey get-up covered in chain mail and fake shoulder/arm armor, a sword sticking out of her belt loop—the perfect Romeo and Juliet. 

Although you knew Abby was probably more uncomfortable than not you had to admit that she looked hot as shit and by the way she went still forgetting the stupid buckle to drink you in she was thinking the same thing. 

You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself against your wife's burning gaze and walked to the space in between her spread knees. 

“Let me help,” you motioned down to her wrist and loose armor. 

She raised her arm without comment. You could tell she was staring at you but you focused on feeding the leather strap through the buckle and tightening it. You guys did not have time to get…distracted. 

“You look so pretty, baby.” She broke the silence and you could no longer avoid her pulling eyes. 

“Thank you, so do you.” You said softly leaning down to press a light kiss to her cheek. 

She hummed at the contact and bracketed her arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you into her. 

You laughed at the sudden tug and braced your arms on her shoulders for support. The pair of you stared at each other for a long while, in complete silence. You spent the moment—what felt like ten years, debating whether or not the distraction would be worth it. You could just run downstairs and throw the candy bowl out on the porch for the kids to help themselves. 

Yes, that sounded like a very pleasant idea. Just as you were about to suggest it to your wife the doorbell rang. 

You squealed forgetting about that plan. You guys could do that later, right now you were too excited to celebrate the holiday. You couldn’t wait until you and Abby had kids one day and were able to take them trick-or-treating. For now, handing out candy would have to suffice. 

You pulled out of Abby’s grasp and tugged on her arms, “Come on, come on. We have our first trick-or-treaters!” 

Abby laughed at your excitement. She was glad that you were getting so much joy out of the night even though all you were going to be doing was sitting by the door and saying hello and goodbye to kids dressed as Disney princesses or video game characters. 

You guys rushed down the hall, well more like you and Abby just followed at a reasonable pace. You could hear the high-pitched voices of excited children on the other side of the door and you grabbed the fake cauldron full of candy and unlocked the door. 

Abby hung back just slightly from the open door frame making sure your guys' dog Alice didn’t become an escape artist and jump scare the kids. 

She smiled as you gasped and asked a little girl if she was the little mermaid. The little girl squealed excited that someone knew who she was and excitedly exclaimed, “Yes! Do you like my dress?” 

“I love your dress,” you dragged out the love for emphasis. 

Yeah, Abby was fucked. She wanted to make you a mom, like yesterday, despite the logistical hurdle regarding that. 

You finished dishing out the candy and closed the door a smile on your face. When you met Abby’s eyes you knew exactly what was brewing behind her eyes. 

“Nope. Stop looking at me like that, we definitely do not have time for that.” You waved a hand over her form. 

“Not even just a little bit of time?” She grabbed the center of your dress and pulled you in, “I can make it real quick baby,” She whispered against your lips. 

Your heart stalled in your chest. Well… when she put it like that?

Just as you went to answer her the doorbell rang again causing you to laugh and her to groan. She rested her forehead against yours and you answered, “Sorry baby, you’re just gonna have to wait until tonight.”

You pulled out of her grasp once more and placed a light pat on her ass. She groaned again.